You know that God has a sense of humor, why else would I be going through menopause and raising a teenage daughter at the same time. I can tell you I have been through a lot in my life but try experiencing a hot flash at 7 am while making breakfast and listening to your 13-year-old daughter start to cry because I had the audacity to encourage her to eat her food. “I’m not hungry!” she screams, “I know baby but you told me last night when you got home you are not getting enough food at lunch, your still hungry, it’s because you’re not getting enough to eat in the morning.”
Her lip starts to quiver and a look comes over her face that is a combination of pure hostility and despondency. As sweat starts beading on my forehead and the core of my body feels like a coal-fired furnace has just been stoked to its capacity. “You don’t understand!” she half cries and half rages at me. Of course I don’t, I do happen to be a woman who at one time was a teenager too, I have all the same parts or at least most of them, but of course I don’t. My mind is racing because I am trying to keep from grabbing the ice maker and pouring it in my pajamas while also staying engaged in this chaotic scene. “You see, you are never listening to me!” She’s right I find myself floating off to avoid the barrage of complaints and list of injustices she is subjected to in our home. In addition menopause, pre or post or wherever I am on this magical ride, assaults me with attention grabbers, like hot flashes, dizziness, and sudden fatigue.
I really do love my daughter she is beautiful, intelligent, creative and really compassionate, the latter mainly reserved for everyone else but me. I on the other hand get both barrels of her teenage angst blasted at me pretty much on a daily basis. When my husband waltzes in the room he gets the batting of the eyes and a delicate “hi daddy.” We have even resorted to having my husband ask her to do things because if daddy asks her she pops right up and runs over to do whatever he asks, at least most of the time. When I ask I get what can only be described as indignant condemnation followed by a litany of the outrageous unfairness she is subjected to which in turn justifies her uncivil disobedience. Which all pairs very well with my menopausal induced mood swings and anxiety.
I recently went to my doctor and complained I have intermittent spells of dizziness and fatigue. He ordered a bunch of tests and basically said yep your now post menopausal. Now to me that should mean I am over it, no that is the cruel joke of medical nomenclature when it comes to menopause. Pre-menopausal means your ramping up you may have some symptoms but they are few and far between, and before you know it you are post menopausal I not sure when I was actually at menopause because I have been told I was “pre” up until I was told I was “post” and that’s when the real fun started for me. Of the 37 common symptoms they have listed online for menopause I am experiencing 39. The additional symptoms, based on my own non-scientific poll of fellow female sufferers, which should also be listed as common, are low self-esteem and frustration.
Well the low self-esteem and frustration could be from raising a teenager or could just be aggravated by raising a teenager. I will do another non-scientific poll over a few bottles of wine with my test group and report back later. Just so you understand the depth of my suffering I will share my most recent menopause/teenage experience. I was thrilled to be giving a young engineer in my community a well deserved award at a recent dinner. As I prepared the words I would share about the honoree days ahead of time I could not help but hear my daughters constant criticism about my failing memory. So I typed everything out in large bold font so I would not have to rely on my memory at all. As I approached the podium I was hit with a hot flash, great I hope my face does not turn beet red, I just told myself, buck up you will, with all dignity in tact, gulp your ice water when you get back to the table and be good as new. I shared with the audience that I had to prepare a written copy of what I would be saying that evening ahead of time. I did that because I have always been an off the cuff kind of speaker, and this was a real departure from my usual style. I added that my teenage daughter’s constant taunting of me stating things like, I have the memory of a squirrel,
was the deciding factor. I then added that raising a teenager is stressful, which received a room full of affirming laughter.
The next day I shared with my daughter that I mentioned her the evening before in my presentation. I told her that I announced to the group that she likes to razz me saying I have the memory of a squirrel. Without any hesitation she goes off on a castigation that began with “oh my God, see you just proved my point!” I am staring back at her wondering how this bonding moment has once again turned on me and resulted in a belittlement of my mental ability. She then continued “I said you have the memory of a goldfish and the bladder of a squirrel, oh my God this is so perfect.”
My mom used to respond to me during my teenage rants that she hoped I had a child who acted just like me some day. Well, mom you definitely got your wish. I have decided not to plague my daughter with the same curse, I mean someone has got to stop this cycle of menopausal mother abuse.