The Great Transition

I had a great day yesterday. 

I felt so good.  I had energy.  I enjoyed my kids.  We cleaned and cooked together.  We danced and drew and played and sang together.  I bought new (used) books for us.  I felt like the me I most like to be.

Yesterday was a good day.  More noticeably so because I haven't had a lot of those lately.

It seems, you see, that I'm going through the "great transition" earlier than most women.  I won't go into the gory details but, historically, menopause has been a fairly rough transition for many women in my family.  And the same seems to be holding true for me...at least so far.

I very often walk around in a somewhat zombie-like daze sapped of energy while my hormones wreak havoc in every part of me, fluctuating wildly day to day.  Some days I fear I'm going crazy.  Some days I'm a stranger in my own skin.  Some days I feel pretty good, almost normal.  Most days I feel unbalanced physically and mentally, and with me already being a very emotional, heart-on-the-sleeve kind of gal, so many daily physical and mental peaks and valleys are becoming overwhelming.

It sucks.  A lot. 

I know menopause is somewhat of a taboo subject for a public forum.  Much like depression, sex, trouble with kids, family secrets, adjusting to motherhood, really any out of the ordinary thing that happens in a woman's life - menopause is uncomfortable and awkward for people to discuss.  Women don't want to share their burdens, don't want people knowing their business, don't want to let on that they're not perfect, don't think anyone cares.  And those things are perpetuated by so many people saying, It's menopause.  A woman's burden.  Suck it up and get on with it.  No need to talk about it.  No need to cry over spilled milk.

And I agree that this is a natural, non-fatal burden every woman experiences.  But being who I am (an over-sharer) and being a woman in the year 2014 when women are generally tired of the whole suffer in silence, ignorance is bliss, hide your feelings and fears thing, well...

I'm officially saying screw that. 

I'm not super excited for everyone to know this about me.  I feel a little embarrassed about it, actually.  Which makes me mad.  Why should I feel embarrassed on top of every other weird and terrible thing I'm feeling?  This is a natural part of womanhood.  A naturally sucky part, but natural nonetheless. 

What I am saying is that it's okay to talk about it.  It's okay to reach out for answers and commiseration and ideas and advice.  I for one am tired of reading clinical BS that downplays symptoms, almost to the point of making it seem like women are just making them up.  Yeah, I'm really tired of that.

Thankfully I am blessed with supportive family and friends who listen and advise. 

I'm so grateful for them!

I have also read a stack of books that have helped me figure a few things out and am learning to advocate for myself with my doctor to find safe and effective options for me.  But I don't let on to many how terribly scary and foreign this feels to me, or how much I'm truly struggling with it.

I guess that's why I want to share this. It is a very personal thing for a woman to go through. The physical changes and mental drag in addition to the feelings of finality and loss at the end of a such a beautiful stage of life...it's a tough pill to swallow.  Especially going through it prematurely.  Many women my age are just starting their families.  And here I am facing a phase of life that my body and mind don't feel mature enough to wrap around. 

Yup.  It sucks.  (Can you tell I'm still in the anger phase of this weird grieving process?)

But anger can quickly give way to laughter as the hormones dance their crazy jive, which has lead to some funny moments during this journey.  Like my poor Rich listening to me read a list of symptoms, both of us realizing how many I am already experiencing, and laughing a lot about it.  I mean, if you're interested and don't already know first hand, read a list of symptoms.  You'll see that they...well, they're ridiculously shitty.  There's just no nicer way to put it.  It's laughable how bizarre they can be in so many different ways.  

For those who suffer the worst of those symptoms, menopause is not the graceful transition into a gentler calmer stage of existence that it can be for some.  For those who suffer it seems our vitality and youthful vigor are busting their way out of us with a hellacious bang, dragging us to the front line of a fireworks finale...loud, long, combustible and unpredictable.

At the same time, I am fully aware that this is temporary. 

It's not a fatal illness.  It's not debilitating.  And it will end at some point. 

Having such a good, normal-Nicole day yesterday not only made me acutely aware of just how lousy I have been feeling, but, more importantly, it also made me acutely aware of how much worse daily life must be for people who do have debilitating or fatal illnesses or who have loved ones who are fighting those.  Like I said - I know what this is, it's not going to kill me and it will end.  And I'm extraordinarily grateful for that.  And that's kind of a big statement for me, because

it's hard to find gratitude and thank God when you're feeling like shit. 

But yesterday's glimpse of normalcy brought that into crystalline clarity for me.  It made me prayerful and thankful that this is but a temporary burden, not a death sentence.  And it made my heart break for those for whom the adverse is true. 

So this, like every other season of change in my life, is not something I'm gracefully, easily accepting and adapting to.  I am, unfortunately, just not built that way...I wish very much that I were.  I can't figure out how to go gentle or quiet into this new stage of my life.  I'm mad and confused and nuts and, instead of pushing those feelings down inside to add to the fiery chaos that's already burning there, I'm getting it out.

If I've done nothing but bore or gross you out, or made you roll your eyes and wish I had a stiffer upper lip, then that's cool.  I apologize for the offense.  But please know that I'll still be here for you when you go through this, if you need someone.

Because it sucks.

While prayer is so important and helpful and comforting, I'm a bit peeved at the big guy right now for piling this mountain of crap on women (of which he's fully aware - I talk to him all the time, mad or not). So talking about it with other people helps me. After all,

He made us to need one another. 

It's a much healthier and wiser thing for me to acknowledge my difficulties and to reach out to people than to go through life's super shitty moments alone.  Shouldering it alone does me no good, nor those around me. 

So I open up. Cry about it.  Laugh about it.  Share it. 

Maybe in the meantime I can help someone else the way others have helped me...and that makes it all worth it.

Moving On

Life at the Cole house has been crazy lately.  Legitimately nuts.

You see, we're moving.  This weekend! 

Closings for both houses happen this Friday (God willing) and the actual move is this weekend. 

 

From here..........to here. 

 

To say that this moving process has been stressful for me is a gross understatement.  I know that many people have endured much more stressful situations with much greater grace than I have shown during this time in our lives.  I guess I'm just not very graceful.  Especially when assimilating change and the unknown and deadlines that are out of my control and negotiations and money. 

Ugh. 

Add to the mix Lena starting preschool, Sam starting kindergarten, my office moving, one of my best friends leaving the office, my band evolving, another good friend leaving the state...and I've kind of been a mess.  It's so much all at once.  Reminding myself that these are all positive changes for everyone helps sometimes, but honestly more often than not the stress sticks around, eating through my stomach lining, knotting my neck muscles and graying my hair.   

The only things that really calm me are praying and feeling my husband's arms around me.  Both help me feel safe and watched over.  I've never been more grateful for both.

So...enough about my emotional instability.  That's not news to anyone who knows me.

This moving business all happened pretty quickly.  Rich and I weren't crazy about the school system the kids would be entering into at our current place.  And we've both always wanted to live in a more established, older neighborhood in a community that's actually a community, not just a jurisdiction.  So after a series of happenstances, late this summer we decided to put our house up just to feel out the market.  Within 10 days we were in contract. 

 

I guess we shouldn't have been surprised. We have a lovely home, despite the cookie-cutter houses and the new-ish subdivision nature of our neighborhood. Rich poured himself into our house over these last eight years, updating and adding and finishing, inside and out. What he made into a perfect first home for us is being passed onto to a young couple who too will make this their first home. I feel good about that. And I pray that this home is filled with as much joy and happiness for them as it has been for us.

 

 

 

Two brand new babies' cries and laughter bounced off its walls, tiny new feet took their first unsteady steps on its floors, first words were spoken into its air...their first everythings happened in this house.  And as our family grew and stretched and evolved, our home sheltered us through all of the growing pains and growing joys.  It's a happy place.  A peaceful place. 

 

We're sad to say goodbye to it. 

But we're also very excited about our new home.  We decided to focus on Westerville for its schools and community and recreation and location and availability of homes we liked.  We saw six houses in one afternoon and, after walking through this house once, Rich and I could both see the kids growing up here and being happy here and our family truly enjoying this neighborhood.  It is peaceful and quiet and established and exactly what we were searching for. 

We were sold.  And so began the process. 

Rich is itching to start making this home ours, drawing up schematics of built-in bookshelves and window seats and wood shingles and front porch expansions and discussing paint and flooring and counter tops and back splashes.  All that stuff he loves to do and is so skilled at doing. 

And I'm dreaming of the years and stages and holidays and small everyday joys and meals and homework and fights and laundry and heartaches and laughter that will happen in this place.  And I'm anxious for this new chapter of our lives to begin in this new place we will call home. 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I pray God continues to bless and protect our family in this new place, in this new phase.  And that he continues to make our old home a safe and happy place for its new owners throughout this new chapter of their lives. 

 

Welcome home.

What is Wisdom?

"The more I live, the more I learn.
The more I learn, the more I realize
The less I know."

I assumed that as I aged, I would gain more understanding.  That somehow my experiences and education would gradually amass to provide me with a certain amount of enlightenment.  Not that I would become brilliant or something.  But I was holding out for wiser. 

However, it seems a world that I assumed would become more black and white as I accumulated years is just getting grayer. 

For instance, the more I learn, the less I understand people and their actions, including my own sometimes.  But at the same time I seem to give them more room for error now.  I don't judge them as often or as harshly as I used to, which I think is good.  Where I seem to be losing insight as to why people do the things they do, I'm gaining appreciation for the fact that I don't know what that person's world is like, where they come from, what they have endured or survived or witnessed. Not that that excuses certain behaviors.  But it does help me assimilate information, which gives me some sense of comfort in these very uncomfortable times. 

There are a few things I feel more certain of now than in my younger days.  My faith is one of them.  But just as with everything else, while my conviction of God's love solidifies in my soul, my mind is less able to explain why.  Maybe it's because the vastness of God and the infinity of his love and his peace are unexplainable, especially to those who haven't felt it.  Now that I'm older, I accept the fact that I will never be able to comprehend it all.  I've done my doubting and studying and questioning and learning and searching, and have arrived at a place where the answers I have found are steadfast enough for my mind to justify accepting the truths I cannot grasp. 

Business, hardships, religion, disappointments, love, war, technology, politics, death, life...I don't intellectually understand much more than I did ten years ago.  But I do feel like I've grown.  Matured.  Where I've accepted my mind's limitations, I've made up for by expanding my...what...spirituality?  humanity?  maybe both. 

Maybe that's what wisdom is.  Maybe it's not merely the edification of one's intellect, but also the illumination of one's soul.

A New Look

I'm in the mood for change...

I moved our living room furniture all around.

I keep trying to wear my hair with bangs, but it's just not working.

And I changed my blog background. Doesn't it make you want to go outside and catch fireflies?