Day: June 1, 2024

A Reblog: The Great Search to Maintain My Mental Health During Perimenopause

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I am always grateful to Kathy, the host of Navigating the Change, for publishing my work. It reminds me that I am not alone in describing the various changes we may endure as we age. It reminds me that I still have a voice and others want to hear (read) it, too. Here is a snippet from the article, but to read it in its entirety and comment, please proceed to the actual published article on the site. Thank you in advance. Peace and blessings.

Three years ago, I was diagnosed with chronic adjustment disorder with intermittent anxiety and depression. And now I’m facing the ultimate test. My therapist has announced that she will be retiring.

Though my therapist and I have worked through strategies on how to live with this diagnosis, she did not prepare me for what I am supposed to do if she should announce her retirement during my fourth year of perimenopause.

My initial response was one of happiness; I was and am happy for her. I celebrated the reality of this new venture with her during our last session. I told her I was proud of her. A leap like this is monumental.

We chatted about it a bit before the end of our last session, and she communicated that she would help me to compile a list of recommendations.

But it is scary. —Tremaine L. Loadholt, Navigating the Change

The Great Search to Maintain My Mental Health During Perimenopause

4891/1984

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Orwell’s 1984. ©2024 Tremaine L. Loadholt

The world continues to burn.
Everyone has an agenda, but
no one has a game-plan on
how to stop the greedy from
gaining more power and the
powerful from becoming more
greedy.

“Big Brother” has his false eyes
on us, watching our every move.
Will we give our last penny to
their bullsh*t plan to alleviate
pain?
Will we morph into another
mark to make on their to-do
list?

I am falling out of love
with a place that once brought
me laughter and peace, but I
still have all my limbs and I
am not a childless mother.

I haven’t had to watch my
baby burn alive or combust
spontaneously with the push
of a button from an evildoer.

I have no murdered husband
or instantly exploded wife to
mourn; I just sit here after
devoting 8 to 9 hours of each
day increasing the net worth
of someone else, and I drown
my pain in fiction that feels real.

And while I monitor my
screen-time; both portable
and stationary devices, I can’t
help but notice how much of
my privacy is no longer private.

They’re in our thoughts.
In our foods and
clothing, too. They invade
our dreams and slaughter the
main character who is seemingly
doing well.

Because the moment you
begin to think things will
get better, the greedy and the
powerful and the “Big Brother”
with false eyes remind you
better is a century away.