Struggles and joys of womanhood

Sweat beads form on my upper lip and forehead, my face is flushed, “this too shall pass,” I think, as I fan myself with my reporters’ notepad.

I can admit I have been a little temperamental recently.

“Speed up or move over grandpa .... pull forward seriously?”

Okay so patience is a virtue, as they say, one I was not well equipped with, however lately, it has been almost non-existent.

I have been tired, drained really ... my lower back hurts ... the jeans I wore yesterday won’t button this morning, what the heck? I’ve definitely gained weight; I do like tacos but give me a break.

My sleep pattern is well, more of a suggestion than a pattern. I wake up every three hours. I’m sweaty, then I’m cold, it must be the fan ... it’s this stupid quilt ... nope it’s me. It’s definitely me and now I have this nagging headache that only adds to my already sunny disposition.

Super personal, but hey most of my writing is, so why not? I haven’t had a menstrual cycle since last November (not a complaint) and there is no possible way I am “with child,” I’m too old for that, right?

I mean I am 42, my conclusion (I am by no means dramatic) I must be dying.

The day has arrived and the doctor finally calls with my lab results, “so, you are definitely menopausal, I’m so sorry,” she said, as if she had just delivered the news of a devastating chronic illness.

Wait, I’m only 42. I’m too young for that, right?

“So how long does this phase last exactly, like when will this be over?” I reply.

The doc says nothing. She goes on to explain how I can take hormones in the form of a patch or a pill, detailing the pros and cons of each. I feel like she has avoided my question.

“Google, how long does menopause last,” I ask fearfully.

“Seven to 14 years,” says Google.

Did I mention how much I love being a woman?

I am convinced being a woman is both a blessing and a curse.

We spend the years of our youth suffering through the process of labor, pap smears and menstrual cycles so that we can later spend the “golden” years fanning hot flashes and counting sleepless nights.

With all of that being said, some of the best, greatest and strongest souls I have had the opportunity to connect with throughout life have been women.

I know some strong and resilient ones!

There is a fine balance in being a woman. The world expects us to be soft-spoken and delicate, but never weak. Many of us are responsible for being both the homemaker and the breadwinner, all while tending to the emotional and physical needs of our children.

We take on the role of the mother, the wife, the seamstress, the chef, the nurse, the counselor, the teacher, and the taxi driver; there is a never-ending list of hats we wear.

Being a woman can be painful, joyous and overwhelming at times, but the world desperately needs our delicacy, strength and wisdom.

Without mothers, grandmothers and sisters where would we be?

The struggles of being a woman are many, but the joys are too.

Is it worth it? I think so, but get back to me in about seven to 14 years.

Misty DeJournett is a staff writer at the Daily American Republic. She can be reached at mdejournett.dar@gmail.com.