I'm 43. Peri and meno is EVERYWHERE.
But, I'm thinking to myself, I'm too young, life is stressful, it's normal. You just think it's you because it's, trendy.
You'll be OK when this deadline is met/schools out/we get over x. You know how it goes.
But, I think I have to be honest.
The rage. Omg. It's like truth serum combined with 'get out of my way'. You're all idiots. For crying out loud. Like, <this> not like <that>
The crying. Did you know there are no sponges in the seafloor in Greece any more? Well I didn't. And when I found out? I sobbed.
The brain fog. Pass me that thing. You know that thing. That bloody thing. It pours. I need it to make the Stock... Cue the rage. THAT FUCKING THING. IT HAS A HANDLE. IT POURS. STOCK
The jug. The fucking bastarding jug. That what I need. A jug.
Add in periods that have become significantly heavier and clottier.
It's gotta be, right? Is it time to make the appointment? Or am I just a cow that can't remember simple words and is weirdly emotional about the state of the seafloor?
Oh. For added interest. I'm cold. So cold. Unless it's 30c, I'm cold. Like, I wear socks in bed, cold. I do get hot, but not that classic hot flush thing. Almost the total. Opposite.
And obviously. I'm tired. So. Tired.