The on-going, never-ending project

Back in August 2017, I wrote a blog post about the menopause and the way that my -lack of-diagnosis had affected me. It was something that simply poured out of me and my fingers flew relentlessly across my dusty keyboard as my brain struggled to lineate and align all the issues that were important to me at the time. I regret none of it: save a few spelling and grammatical errors!

So, where are we now? Well, two years down the line and I'm in a better place than I honestly thought I was every going to be after the hell that ensued up to and including the operation. For those that have not read my previous post: I had a Total Abdominal Hysterectomy in May 2015 at age 41.

Now, I'm holding down a job and yup, you've got it... I have meno-memory issues which can severely impair my effectiveness: which is damn hard when you're a teacher with a million things to do at once!! I was well known for being organised and able to juggle multiple tasks at once, but now... without a notebook, I'm useless and that even if I can remember where I've put it! I tried to mitigate against disaster by using more than one notebook, but I bet you know what happened to that bright idea!

Recently, I've noticed that I am so much more clumsy than I ever have been: I've fallen off a ladder; walked into vices; dropped a whole bottle of wine (sad day); twisted my ankle and goodness knows what else I've done that I might have forgotten to log.

So, you see... I'm technically 'through the menopause' and I'm out at the other end but the ripples that continue to radiate around me are still feathering out to the shoreline. I guess the only thing I can do now if to concentrate on the source of the ripples and look after myself and the first thing I have to ensure is that I know myself and what I need: the most important step in my recovery is reclaim my broken body. HRT, antidepressants and all that stuff keeps me ticking over nicely but my body went through some tough times and held my sanity to ransom. I found myself withering when I looked in the mirror, I started to avoid being seen with anything less than ankles and wrists on show, I purposely avoided shopping for decent new clothes, favouring fast fashion because its cheaper to get it wrong without having to put myself through the humiliation of going in a changing room.

Sure, I signed up to a gym within three months of my operation and was starting to feel good about myself until the trainer I had became less reliable and more erratic. I took it personally: deciding it was my fault that he wasn't showing up, as a result, my fractured confidence suffered once more and I slid away into the blackness.

A few months later -probably a year after the op- I went to a new gym to try to find myself again and I wept in the unpleasantly plasticky room as I told the trainer of my confidence issues. I told him how I'd felt let down : he assured me that he understood having seen his mum go through similar -thanks for the reminder that i'm not only broken, but old! he would help me. He would train me, I would get better. It started well, I loved it. I'd always loved going to the gym and working out and I knew it wasn't going to be the same as it has been in the past, but I was happy. Then, one day, I received a text saying he was leaving with immediate effect and I should come and see him to arrange sessions elsewhere as he owed me training money. I was gutted. I did go to see him but my confidence was sputtering again and I didn't push him for any training dates or money as I could see he had his own issues. I lost quite a bit of money. Once again, I spiraled downhill...

Another year went by. It was a grey year made duller by own self sabotage. Then, I decided that enough was enough and that I was going to try another gym. I can't tell you how hard I found it. I wept as I signed up, I wept as I had an induction, and I wept as I told my new trainer, what she needed to know. In some sessions, I continued to weep and I was turning into a wreck. I'll never really know why it didn't work out there, other than the fact that I was spending hundreds each month to try and get fit again but I got little satisfaction. I got stronger but I'm a large framed lady and getting strong wasn't the issue... it was that I wanted to get my skin closer to my skeleton!

I waited for my trainer to tell me she was leaving, was sacked or something but she never did. She was reliable, kind and sympathetic week in and week out and it was actually quite painful to leave the gym because of the expense. It's a shame you have to pay so much for that kind of service because all gyms purport to offer quality personal training but clearly one mans 'quality' is another mans 'passable'!

I left the really expensive gym and went straight to a new gym that offered Personal Training but I'd already decided against it; determined to take what I'd learnt through others and just do my own thing. As an introduction and to get to know people, I paid for a Boot Camp of three sessions a week for eight weeks and MY GOD! It was the BEST thing I could have done for myself.

I met other women who had, had their own issues and people started sharing stories and motivating each other. We propped each other up, swapped numbers, saw each other and stopped to chat in the street. The boot camp ended after three months and I saw changes. I felt changed. I remained resolute in not having another trainer and continued to go to the gym on average three to four times a week for the next eight months and even managed to convince my to convince one of my longest and closest friends to sign up as she was in need of the boost too. And now? I'm nearly in the place I want to be. Maybe in another year or two, I'll be fully happy. I'll never get over the fact that I aged overnight and my body is a testament to that, but I am so proud of myself for not giving up completely.

To roughly tie up this complete pityfest of a post, the menopause is tough. Tougher than I'd ever imagined, not that I'd imagined a great deal because I never knew what to expect or when! I was just unlucky. It's really hard to try to stay the person that your friends and family knew and it's easy to just tell people you don't feel up to going out (because you're feeling fat and don't want to scream at the contents of your wardrobe again).

It's really easy to give up friendships because you've 'drifted apart' when in fact, it's you who's done the drifting. What it's not easy to do, is this:

Accept that you can't change what's happened.

Learn to bounce.

Bounce like Tigger.

Bounce like a helium balloon in the wind... but don't be hard on yourself for struggling.

Don't punish yourself for your weaknesses. Learn to recognise them and work around them because you can

It'll be ok.

#hysterectomy #recovery #selfconfidence #gym #workout #selfimprovement #holdyourheadhigh