The Pause that Depresses

The last two nights have been wonderful for sleeping. Cool, quiet, and rainless. I crawl into bed, slip into unconsciousness,  and emerge the next morning reasonably refreshed. This ended a period of hot, muggy, rainy nights when I tossed and turned -- and burned from the inside out. I'm talking about hot flashes.

If you're a guy, take a deep breath, smile, and thank the higher powers that here is one more thing on the list you won't have to deal with. That list includes, but is by no means limited to, bleeding like a stuck pig once a month for most of your adult life, wrestling your way through pregnancy and childbirth, and trying to find a bra that fits.

For those of you who have not experienced the joy of super heating from the inside out, count your blessings. The condition seems to worsen when the mercury rises outside. Which means that it occurs several times a day this time of year. I was heartened to read the other day in the paper that there is a drug you can take to reduce your hot flashes. It moonlights as an anti-depressant. The side effect is suicide. Well, I suppose that's one solution.

As an aging adult, I have also experienced depression and forgetfulness. Or maybe I just blame the fact that I can't remember anything anymore on menopause. I used to be very good at remembering people's names. Not so much anymore. Rather than risk embarrassment, I find I have to rely on the standard, "Hey, how are you doing?" as a greeting. I know these folks, I really do. My brain just doesn't identify them quickly. Three or four minutes later, from the depths of my cranium, springs forth a name to go with the face. Some days I feel like I'm using a Univac in a Microsoft world.

As for the depression, yes, it's there, like a dark cloud, menacing. I know the techniques for keeping it at bay. Breathing, meditating, exercise, listening to my favorite music. I know I'm blessed not to have debilitating depression, just the garden variety. Mostly it's manageable, especially during the day. It's the wee hours of the morning, when my brain wakes up before my body is ready, and I start to fret. About life, the universe and everything. This seems to have gotten worse since menopause kicked in. I thought once my son was older I'd have less to worry about. But, of course, the worry just shifts to bigger and not-so-better things.
I think it's the getting old part that bothers me more than the menopause. The fear of a time that is coming when I won't be able to do what I love doing because my brain has gone all soggy. But, since there's nothing I can do about it, I guess I'll just have to pull up my bootstraps and get on with it.

Now, where did I put those bootstraps?