by marthafitat55

I remember when I was an undergraduate — I thought reading breaks were the bee’s knees. What a concept — a period of time in the middle of a busy term with deadlines looming — where I could hit the pause button on classes and catch my breath, literally and figuratively.

I am a believer in vacations in the summer. I also try not to work on weekends, but I am busy nonetheless being an adult, catching up on laundry, engaging in meal preparation, and planning for the week ahead.

I’ve had an especially intense six months. So when one set of plans fell through for a mini-break, I immediately sought a back up. I noticed I was really excited by the thought of a few days away and it occurred to me that even if you aren’t a student, mid-term breaks are just the ticket. They are, in fact, the pause that refreshes.

While a full fledged vacation is very appealing, we can’t always disappear for three weeks as responsibilities, finances, time, and space aren’t always available or adjustable to meet our needs for respite.

My dictionary defines respite as “a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.” To be relieved of something is often used negatively as one can be relieved of a responsibility or duty. And I like that. I want to be relieved of some of the emotional weight I have been carrying as I adult in my 60s.

But to be relieved, to gain a respite, also means to receive “a feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress.” We’ve all had a lot to deal with during the pandemic, what with global warming, full out wars, and ongoing/increasing experiences of racism, sexism, homophobia and transphobia.

While I regularly take a week’s break in the summer to go offgrid (but not in tents — did that and got the badges in Girl Guides, lo those many years ago), I have not applied that same approach to other seasons of the year.

I’m looking forward to this mid-winter break and I have already started making plans for the mid-spring and midsummer ones as well. Whether I call them mid-term breaks or reading weekends, I am pretty sure they will become a regular part of my mental health practice in the future.

Because we all need time to catch our breath and return refreshed, relieved, and refocused.

How about you — what kinds of mini breaks do you engage in, especially those that do not require major infusions of cash?

I had my first period on July 23, 1983. I know the date because it was exactly one month after I turned 11. 

I remember having a mild stomach ache. I was staying at the apartment where my grandmother and aunt lived. My sister and I spent a lot of our weekends there at that age. 

Nobody in that apartment was menstruating anymore. I don’t remember if my sister was there that weekend. I don’t remember how I procured pads.

In addition to signalling my official step towards womanhood (we didn’t use terms like “cis-gender womanhood” in 1983 but note here, that’s what it was), it marked my entry into years of excruciating cramps. The kind that would have me miss school for days. The kind that I would develop fear of – because sometimes they would start while riding home on the TTC or while out for dinner with friends and their parents and I would spend dinner laid out in said parents backseat until it was time to go home. In those days, they gave us medication called Ponstan and I used to take those capsules until I passed out because I didn’t know how else to handle the extreme pain. We are not talking mild stomach cramps. Every part of my body felt like it was being yanked and twisted, in different directions, in addition to nausea, cold sweats and more. My sister and Mom belonged to this club of extreme cramps, so, at least, they understood. I remember the vacant look of people who had never experienced this kind of pain. They probably thought I had a low threshold for pain. Same way, I didn’t really believe PMS was a real thing, until I started experiencing it, as an adult. 

My sister and I both underwent the typical diagnostic tests to determine why we had bad menstrual cramps. Neither of us were diagnosed with endometriosis or similar. At 14, I was advised to go on the Pill for pain relief. It worked. From 14 to 40, I was on the Pill for pain relief. I tried to go off, once, in my 30s, to see if I still had the same pain. At the time, I lived on my own and I woke up with bad cramps, one night, and, went to the toilet. I woke up face first on the bathroom floor,  nose bloodied (I had already had a nose job and this did not bode well for that work) and assuming I had passed out from the pain. I went back on the Pill. 

It wasn’t intentional that I didn’t have children. It’s not that I didn’t want to be a parent. But, neither was I obsessed with becoming a parent. I was single, for the most part, until 42, with a very brief relationship at 37 and many first dates for most of my 20s and 30s. I enjoyed spending time with my nieces and nephews, those biologically mine, and those inherited through friends. I also knew how much work was involved in parenthood. I knew, early on, I didn’t want to, purposely, work to be a single parent. I always left parenthood as “if it’s meant to be”. All of this is to say, I didn’t have a reason to go off the Pill, for child-bearing purposes. 

When I met my, now husband, at 42, he already had a teenage daughter. We joked, early on, about me accidentally getting pregnant. I was always clockwork with my period and there was one time, early in our relationship, when I was late. It was unusual. I was briefly wondering if it was possible. The truth is, it wasn’t possible for a number of reasons. Despite subconsciously thinking of good names for a child of this new, happy, union, it wasn’t going to be in the cards. It was the first, real time, I mourned the idea of being a mother, and, that, indeed, it wasn’t “meant to be” for me.

Around 40, I started to wonder, rationally or not, whether having been on hormones for so long, would be bad for my middle-aged health. This time, when I went off the Pill, and, despite being armed with preventative measures, the pain wasn’t as bad. Nothing a couple Motrin couldn’t help with, if taken early enough, at the hint of cramps. 

In my mid-to-late 40s, I was surprised I still had my period. My Mom had a hysterectomy when she was 35. My sister started perimenopause early. Plus, I had heard that the earlier one started menstruating, the earlier they might start menopause.  I had friends who were starting to hit menopause. Some were forced into it through chemo.

I mentioned PMS earlier. It did seem to be getting worse through perimenopause. It would last longer each month. Bigger and longer mood swings, more tears and anger, more tender breasts. I went to a naturopath who told me to take two tablespoons of flax seed each day. She also told me to take probiotics every day, gave me antioxidants and I began taking other supplements more religiously. I didn’t continue seeing the naturopath, but I have continued taking the same supplements. I know these things can be suspect, and I’m not sure exactly which, if any of these things helped, but some of the symptoms, like sore breasts, seemed to occur less often. I also continued to exercise regularly. Sometimes with a fouler mood and with less energy. But, I continued to feel the benefits of exercise for my mood swings. Also, I only started experiencing hot flashes in the last couple years, and very sporadically. I still don’t think I’ve experienced a real night sweat. They may, yet, be on the way. Really, other than more brief “moments of despair”, the last year has seemed easier than the preceding years of perimenopause.

I had heard that the average age of menopause, in Canada, is 51. Of course, this is an average, we know from Cate and Sam, that many menstruate well into their mid-50s. I know many who started in their late 30s. For me, sure enough, a few months before I turned 51, I stopped having periods. As I approach one year of no periods and the medically-recognized beginning of menopause, I started to wonder whether I should “celebrate”. I mentioned it, half-joking, to a couple good friends and to the FIFI bloggers. What do I mean by celebrating? I am not really sure and it’s an evolving idea. I am not a big theme day celebrator.  I don’t mean white balloons and a dry martini. I think, I mean, I just want to continue to frame getting older in a healthy way. 

Now that I, appear to be, officially in menopause, I can celebrate my current, lucky, good health, the fortunate relationships I enjoy, my continued career opportunities, my continued enjoyment and ability to participate in fitness spheres. I continue to cultivate relationships with people at different ages, which can be energizing.

When I was sitting and having coffee and tea with my Mom and sister, the other day, after an appointment my Mom had with her cardiologist, I mentioned I was nearing the one year mark of no periods. My sister said, casually, “Welcome to the club”, with a smile. That is exactly the vibe I am seeking when talking about this new stage of my life. I don’t plan to have a party to celebrate my new crone-hood (which is a term being re-framed in some circles to be a powerful stage in life). I plan to continue trying to define what this stage means for me. Including, counting my blessings. My emerging crone-hood is such a microscopic consideration in the world, but in my world, how I embrace this stage of my life, can help me thrive and be of good use to others.

Part of the reason, I chose to write about this, is that, I continue to think it’s important for people to share their experiences with menopause. It differs for everyone and, like any topic, it can help people to hear about others’ experience and what helped them, what it meant to them, and more.

Dear Readers, if you are near 12 months without a period or past that mark, did you celebrate? What did this transition mean to you, if anything?