Recently, it’s as if my husband and I are standing on stage with an attentive audience as we perform an organ recital of our own that has nothing to do with emitting musical tones but rather one that barks out body aches and pains. Our knees scream out in an A minor as our backs bellow in G. Not to mention the bass vibrations resounding tones that reflect our daily loss of memory as we search for our missing keys, phones, glasses and wallets.

It appears we have crossed the mid-life mark and seem to be hobbling down a path with arrows pointing “For Senior Citizens Only” …offering great discount rates by the way!

I noticed yesterday, most of what my husband and I say to each other has to do with our physical discomforts. Now given, he did have a free pass earlier in the year as he was battling cancer, which thankfully has been eradicated.  But as of late we seem to be in harmony as we perform a constant dribble of:

“My back is out again, My neck hurts, My sinuses are flaring up, I hardly slept a wink last night, I screwed my knee up, I’m so exhausted, I lost my keys”, et al. And the ending stanza, a quiet hum that whispers, “Where have I gone?”

I made a request of my husband upon which it was agreed: No more ‘organ recital’ complaining unless it’s requires immediate attention or is an emergency.

The first few days hardly a word was exchanged between us as we held back our physical profundities. I was surprised to realize that we had misplaced the ability to share thoughts and feelings that were not linked to our aging bodies!

A month has now passed and outside of a small detour of talking about other people’s aging bodies, I’m happy to say that not only have we regained the ability to orate on subjects ranging from light banter to weightier matters, but we have also noticed the aforementioned physical aches and pains seem to have become only light background noise to our ‘soul awakened’ days!

Perhaps proving it to be true as spoken of Sir Charles Lyell in 1863, “…the improvable reason of Man himself — presents us with a picture of the ever-increasing dominion of Mind over Matter” (The Geological Evidence of the Antiquity of Man)…

…and most assuredly had we continued to perform cantatas on our biological witherings, we would have produced only dissonant chords resembling dirges for the decaying, and in turn, disabling our purpose and numbing our joy.

A reminder: Aging is what we make of it. Now go climb a mountain or a hill or just go for a walk and let these words create a melody that resound in your mind and spirit as you sing, “These are the best days of my life!”

Occasionally bumping elbows slumped one next to her donning wrinkled, elastic-waist kakis, chipped toenail polish and a stained GAP ball cap obviously hiding roots that were screaming for a touch up. With pale, puffy calves peeking out from tattered Capri’s and blending into a buttered popcorn-grease stained seat, I observed her out of the corner of my eye.

I had lost interest in the movie. Glancing sideways as if there was something worth noticing, I took inventory of this faultless reproduction of a young Cybil Sheppard crossed with a pinch of Bo Derek (name’s only my generation will recognize) while I, with popcorn kernels nuzzled between my slightly whitened teeth wondered, “What the hell has happened here”?!? And I was curious. “How does she do that…and sit up so straight and make it look so natural”?

I sat reeling in Youth as it wafted from her pores. It was like an out-of-reach dream of a time long ago when all my joints worked together holding up unyielding flesh as it bounced from perch to perch without the now, all too familiar joggle, wiggle and waggle.

So, in the glow of the big screen, I sat up a bit straighter and made a vow to myself to get back to the gym thinking for a moment that this would perhaps alter time’s cruel corporeal erosion. Instead I felt jealous and sad. And I would love to say in this moment I gleaned a morsel of encouraging insight from this unkind awakening about accepting this thing termed as ‘best time of your life’. Instead I comforted myself with the thought, “She probably can’t spell and has trouble reading the Huffington Post”…

But then again, I must admit there was a voice in the back of my mind reminding me if I do want this to be the ‘best time of my life’, all I have is the ‘Right Now’…

because the ‘Was Then’ can make me sad…

and the ‘What Is To Come’ incite fear.

And isn’t it true that adjusting perceptions in the ‘Right Now’ can bring about the most amazing gratitude?

I’ll adjust tomorrow. My “Right Now’ is still pissed and confused.

Occasionally bumping elbows slumped one next to her donning wrinkled, elastic-waist kakis, chipped toenail polish and a stained GAP ball cap obviously hiding roots that were screaming for a touch up. With pale, puffy calves peeking out from tattered Capri’s and blending into a buttered popcorn-grease stained seat, I observed her out of the corner of my eye.

I had lost interest in the movie. Glancing sideways as if there was something worth noticing, I took inventory of this faultless reproduction of a young Cybil Sheppard crossed with a pinch of Bo Derek (name’s only my generation will recognize) while I, with popcorn kernels nuzzled between my slightly whitened teeth wondered, “What the hell has happened here”?!? And I was curious. “How does she do that…and sit up so straight and make it look so natural”?

I sat reeling in Youth as it wafted from her pores. It was like an out-of-reach dream of a time long ago when all my joints worked together holding up unyielding flesh as it bounced from perch to perch without the now, all too familiar joggle, wiggle and waggle.

So, in the glow of the big screen, I sat up a bit straighter and made a vow to myself to get back to the gym thinking for a moment that this would perhaps alter time’s cruel corporeal erosion. Instead I felt jealous and sad. And I would love to say in this moment I gleaned a morsel of encouraging insight from this unkind awakening about accepting this thing termed as ‘best time of your life’. Instead I comforted myself with the thought, “She probably can’t spell and has trouble reading the Huffington Post”…

But then again, I must admit there was a voice in the back of my mind reminding me if I do want this to be the ‘best time of my life’, all I have is the ‘Right Now’…

because the ‘Was Then’ can make me sad…

and the ‘What Is To Come’ incite fear.

And isn’t it true that adjusting perceptions in the ‘Right Now’ can bring about the most amazing gratitude?

I’ll adjust tomorrow. My “Right Now’ is still pissed and confused.

So, discussions ensued as to the benefits of using Botox to smooth out those ever increasing epidermoid flaps and folds. Although tentative on broaching my personal experience with said topic, I would have been remiss not to share my Botox malady.

I have worked on-camera as a spokesperson and actress for several years and the advent of Botox was for me an opportunity to spend several more years as a liar…regarding my age of course.

I injected a little here a little there, playing blissfully with this new miracle of botulism like I was six again playing with my new Chatty Kathy at Christmas. I learned you could inject the Botox just above your upper lip giving it a more plump appearance. So to gain a more youthful pillowy mouth, I injected away. ‘Hoy Matey, thar she blows’ I expressed with wild abandon as within 7 to 10 days my upper lip did indeed swell to a more youthful and zestful appearance.

The only drawback I had not anticipated was that the muscles in the top of the mouth would be frozen and as I stood facing the camera ready to shoot a commercial, I was horrified when I could not form the letters m, b or p. My first line was, “Hi, Jan Brehm here with Mason Motors (name changed) celebrating this magical time of year”.  What I was able to dribble out was, “Hi, Jan reh here with ason otors, celerating this agical ti of year.” The director at first thought I was joking but his ‘ha ha’ quickly dissipated into raw frustration as camera take after camera take, I struggled to make my lips meet. I did finagle a way to move my lower lip up to meet the upper one, an accomplishment of which I was most pleased but unfortunately gave me the appearance of gurning.

Well, you think I would have learned, but a few weeks ago in preparing to shoot another commercial for a new dealership, I thought there would be no harm in Botoxing the bottom lip… again in attempts to regain a youthful lip-luster. I was fully aware that my bottom lip might be a bit paralyzed but found only the letters; f and v might be a bit strained. To my horror as I had not anticipated what the script might possibly say, I found my last line to be,  ”Come visit us. We’re just off the I 5 freeway in Fife.” and of course what my facial orifice formed was, “Come isit us. We’re just o the I i eeway in i.”

I’m gonna cool it on the Botoxing for a while.

At least that’s what it feels like! How many reports have been unveiled in the last 20 years regarding the safety and efficacy of HRT and each time the latest reports are released they seem to be the complete opposite of the previous findings!

Who should we be listening to? Movie stars? MD’s? Naturopathic Doctors? Our mothers? There’s a guy down the street that cleans offices at night that seems to be well versed in the subject…!

After extensive findings it was reported a few years ago that HRT was safe with a low percentage of women at risk if breast cancer was in their family. A month ago HRT now seems to be the cause of cancer in women and many gals I know frantically threw out their ‘happy pills, patches and creams’. A week ago Dr. Oz comes out and says (loosely stated), ‘Now, now no need to be hasty, they really aren’t that bad for you’…! I even heard a talk show guest blanketing Estrogen on causing Lung Cancer! When questioned, she did happen to mention that she had been smoking for 30 years. But the Estrogen caused the cancer. Uh huh.

What I know first hand is they work for me. I sleep better, feel better, and my husband seems to likes me more! http://www.planetsweetpea.com/ron.html

So here, to set the record straight, from Dr. Tori Hudson, a leader in women’s health: http://www.planetsweetpea.com/news.html

So let’s lift a glass for those of us hormonally challenged and declare, “Here’s to Hormone, or not to hormone maybe next year we will have the answer!

Entering Midlife. Wishing for sleep that’s encumbered by seemingly endless awakenings.

Beholding Spring.  Air laced with lilac as budding leaves shimmer.

Beholding Midlife.  Doubt encircling dreams as the present clouds the future.

Menopause. Who the hell cares.

Menopause Rap

Was it a heart attack? I certainly had all the symptoms: chest pains, extreme dizziness and nausea, couldn’t take a deep breath, heavy fatigue.

It had come on so fast that morning. First it was the dizziness. The room was spinning as if I were on a Merry go Round. I stumbled over and had such tightness in my chest. The fatigue set in and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I have read many times to beware of “The Silent Killer” as heart disease is the number one killer of women. I will be 56 this month and having heart disease in my family caused even more concern.

I wanted to tough it out, ignore it. “It’s nothing”, I thought, “Maybe too much caffeine”. But the symptoms wouldn’t let up and I made the call.

A couple hours later, I walked out of the hospital feeling pretty much the same. It was not a heart attack or stroke. I was embarrassed and vowed never to do that again. And then I remembered hearing, that’s what many women do and they die.

Here are the warning signs of a heart attack in women and then I’ll share what the doctor told me.
Neck, shoulder, upper back or abdominal discomfort
Shortness of breath
Nausea or vomiting
Sweating
Lightheadedness or dizziness
Unusual fatigue
www.americanheart.org

I also read:
“Worldwide, 8.6 million women die from heart disease each year, accounting for a third of all deaths in women. Three million women die from stroke each year. Stroke accounts for more deaths among women than men (11% vs 8.4%) with additional risk for CHD unique to women related to oral contraceptive use in combination with smoking.

8 million women in the US are currently living with heart disease; 35,000 are under age of 65. Four million suffer from angina.

267,000 women die each year from heart attacks, which kill six times as many women as breast cancer. Another 31, 837 women die each year of congestive heart failure, representing 62.6% of all heart failure deaths.” www.womensheart.org

Ladies, the doctor shared that if we experience any of these symptoms in a manner that is new or different for us, go get checked. Do not wait.

So what happened to me? What was it that caused these symptoms? I had the flu. A very strange type of flu that I have not experienced before. I am a bit embarrassed over the fuss, but I can only imagine what would have happened had I not gone in and it was the real thing.

The doctor said I was right to come in. So with that, I hope my ER story had given you some useful information for yourself and women you know.

I think we need to learn to laugh when experiencing these uncomfortable menopause signs and symptoms and if you haven’t seen our music video  yet, get a giggle and watch the following video after the break:

Menopause Madness (click play to start)

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

But there is something more serious some of us women suffer during this transitional time that I would like to briefly write about. Sometimes I wake in the morning feeling useless and believe the messages in my head that say, “You can’t do this, who do you think you are, you’re too old, you’re a loser, you are not needed anymore…” etcetera and etcetera.

Being a naturally vibrant and life-loving woman, this for me is disturbing. As I fight through the onslaught of slandering woes and push myself to do the necessary tasks for the day, I find my mind calms a bit. But some days the self doubt, anxiety, restlessness are too much and I close the laptop, go to a movie and buy a large extra butter popcorn. I know that it is only a day and tomorrow will be different, maybe no better or worse, but different.

There are 35 symptoms of menopause and the aforementioned are only a few. The physical ones, hot flashes, night sweats, etc are a sweaty walk in the park compared to those that affect our mood and mental well being.

Guys who live with menopausal women, it does subside. I know it is difficult. I feel sad for my husband sometimes when I am shut down, checked out and just trying to ride the nasty mood out.

I believe all of life’s transitions for both men and women are challenging. Passing through these stages allows us to see at our deepest level, the true nature of our character and our need for grace.

It also shows us what we are made of. And right now I gotta admit, feeling tired and edgy and with Halloween being tomorrow…I’m made of a whole bunch of freshly ingested Snickers bars and Butterfingers! Yea baby! (Not a recommended health care choice in Dr. Tori’s “Women’s Encyclopedia of Natural Medicine”!)

The kids are out of the house and now it’s “ME TIME”. So, if you have two people sharing their lives together exercising their self-indulgent newly found freedom, what happens when the wills clash?

To budge or not to budge? Sometimes it can go beyond the tug of rope named “Compromising” to the silent but deadly “Standoff”. The problem with the Standoff is it gets extremely tiring and it is impossible to win.

Why is it sometimes so difficult when you are set on something you want, to step back and take a different perspective…perhaps your partners? But oh my, what a thought. That might mean you have to crumble and loose!

Actually it means emotional maturity. Quieting down the kid within that continues to scream for love and attention and persists on winning the fight taunting, “I know you are but what am I?”

I think we forget who we are, where we are and from where we have journeyed. I know I need to remember to start out the day putting on my big girl pants. I need to remember I’m safe now and the disappointments and wounds of the past don’t have power anymore unless I let them.

I sure hope I’m not the only one that works myself into this budgeless state of being and if I am alone in this, well, all I have to say is…. I know you are but what am I?

Oh phooey, there I go again…

Memories, all alone in the moonlight

I don’t know what I’m doing here, or why I came

All is fuzzy as I wander from room to room

Talking to myself, once again.

Daylight, I awake from my stupor

Wishing I could remember, what day is today

Who am I? What is my name and what do I do?

Let my memory please be renewed.

Every day is a new adventure of confusion and befuddlement

I continue to mutter and my husband shutters

At our mid-life predicament.

Touch me, it’s so easy just read my lips

We’ll grow old together, hand in hand

As we tread these unknown waters of mid-life

I’ll remind you hey, I’m your wife

This little ditty came to me yesterday as I was walking from room to room talking to myself hoping to remember what I was doing and why I was there.

Mid life, menopause, whatever, my ability to recall has turned to mush. I even tied a string around my finger to remind me of something and minutes later looked at the string and forgot why it was there.

I write notes and lose them, wore a mini tape recorder around my neck with voice commands and lost it. I’ve tried making up song, rhymes and word games.

I, for years have been articulate. Now, many days I cannot pull up the right word. Simple words like ‘consume’, ‘explain’ or ‘syndicate’. I come up with words like ‘explode’, ‘synonym’ and ‘incident’.

It’s all mid life and menopausal maladies. Something many of us have to adapt to and work around. Finding humor in it all helps except for when you forget to pay a credit card and they jack your interest rate up to 29.99%. No joke. They didn’t accept my, “But, but, I’m in menopause” They didn’t bite.