Category: menopause

If I Ask For Your Help I Need You To Help Me

Before I left for work on Friday I told my husband I needed his help and asked him to fold the towels and put the lights on the Christmas tree and decorate it (it’s a small tree).  I didn’t think I was asking too much.  He took my step daughter to get her wisdom teeth pulled that morning so they would be at the our house all day while she recovered.  I thought decorating the tree (even if she laid on the couch and told him where to put each ornament) together would be a bonding time for them.  With my husband being on the road and my step daughter working most weekends, they don’t get to spend a lot of time together.  I thought they could laugh and talk about the hand made ornaments as they decorated.

Silly me.  Why I thought the tree would be decorated or even the lights be on the tree when I arrived home is beyond me.  I should have known it wouldn’t be.  The towels for folded and the laundry from the washer was in the dryer.  He does get credit for that.  You know why he didn’t put up the lights?  Because I brought the outside bin of lights upstairs.  I thought they were in that bin.  Shoot me.  I have all of the Christmas bins in one spot in the basement.  Did he go look?  No.  Did he call or text me when I was on break or lunch to ask where the lights were?  No.  Did he improvise and put the garage lights on the tree? (They are indoor/outdoor lights)  No.  Did he offer to help me look in the basement when I got home?  No.  Did he stay up to help me put the lights on the tree when I got home?  No.  I did end up using the garage lights because I couldn’t find the other ones.  When I got home at 10:30 I did the dishes, finished his laundry and did a load of my pinks, and put the lights on the tree.  I went to bed at 1:30 a.m.  He went to bed at midnight after the movie he was watching was over.

And to top it off, he tells me yesterday that  his truck is ready to be picked up at the repair shop and that I should take my brother to go pick it up.  What?  Are you serious?  You can’t help me with the Christmas tree, but I’m suppose to help you.  I calmly told him that I would be busy decorating the tree and that I wouldn’t have time.  What does he expect?  I’m suppose to help him, but he doesn’t have help to me.  Bullshit.  He called his sister to help him.

And now he was one pissed off wife to deal with.

Look, I’m really not trying to bash my husband.   He really is good to me.  I love him and am happily married….Until moments like this where he takes me for granted and doesn’t value me or my time and I get pissed.  I asked him for help because I really needed help because I am working 55 hours a week and it’s Christmas.  I have a lot of things on my plate and the thing that grinds me is that he knows this and he still couldn’t do the tree.  The thing is is that everything that he needed was in the living room. I normally don’t ask for help.  Being a truckers wife you get used to doing things by yourself, but when I ask him for help I need help. He better help.  He should help.  He needs to help.

I need your help today.  No.  I’m not joking.  What do those words mean?  Before menopause I wouldn’t have asked for help.  I just would have done it myself.  But now?  Now is a different story.  It seems the deeper I get into menopause the more aware I become of my needs and how they sometimes aren’t met.  I know that’s my fault because I didn’t express them before, but I’m expressing them now and sometimes it’s not a pretty site.  I want to write.  I want/need time to be creative.  What I realized since Friday is that I need him to help me more around the house so I have more time to be creative.  I’m not asking him to cook me a 10 course meal when he’s home, but a little more help would be nice.  For example, when you take the last roll toilet paper from the cabinet walk downstairs, grab a pack and fill up the cabinet instead of leaving me without toilet paper when I need it the most or when the blue bag garbage can under the kitchen sink is full, put in a new bag (the blue bags are right next to the garbage can) and take the bag out to the garage instead of leaving the recyclables on the counter because the bag is full or when he sees the carpet needs to vacuumed for whatever reason just vacuum it instead of telling me it needs to be vacuumed.  I don’t think it’s asking too much.  Is it??!!

I’m not trying to be a bitch, but I’m not the maid either.  In the past I didn’t say anything because deep down I was afraid that he would leave if I spoke up (that was my own insecurities talking).  Now, I don’t care.  I say what I feel (respectfully, not hurtful) and if he doesn’t like it tough crap.  I’m fully capable of making it on my own.  If standing up for myself and what I need and want is being a bitch then I am a bitch.   I just can’t keep quiet anymore.

It’s Sunday and the tree still isn’t decorated.  I bought new ornaments for the tree, but haven’t put them on yet.  I’m debating.  I would love to put the tree back in the box and put it in the basement, but for some reason I feel my inner child wants/needs the tree up and decorated.   For the last couple of years I haven’t put up a tree, but this year I actually wanted to put up a tree.  My husband asked me if I fell and hit my head.  After I post this I will go and put the ornaments on the tree.  And finish wrapping presents.

What I learned from this is that I want my thoughts, feelings and time to be validated and appreciated.  These things are important to me.  He needs to understand that I have other things to do than to cater to his needs and wants.  I want to cater to my own.  Our relationship is changing.  It’s scary, but I think it’s good because I’m allowing more of myself to the surface.  I’m allowing me to be me.   Finally.

Navigating through these menopausal waters is hard as hell sometimes.

 

 

 

 

QP Hey Ladies I Have A Secret

Warning:  If you don’t like to read about menopause, making love or woman’s anatomy then this post isn’t for you.  Please don’t read any further.

Normally I wouldn’t write about my sex life or my anatomy, but if it can help other women get their groove back sexually then I feel I have to share my story.

Many of you know that after menopause making love just isn’t the same.  In my world I felt that my head didn’t communicate with vagina anymore.  I used to be wet and ready in a heartbeat.  Now it takes a day and half and lube.  Making love used to be wonderful.  Now it hurts.  I used to be twenty pounds lighter.  Now I feel like a fat, unsexy old woman.  Making love used to be fun.  Now it’s work.

While at the Barrett Jackson car show in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago I saw a Purlife booth.  Purlife bracelets use a combination of natural elements that releases negative ions to help balance your body (this is taken straight from the brochure).  Anyway, the bracelet is something my husband’s friend swears by.  My husband and I have always wanted to try wearing the baracelet so we each each bought one.

I wore mine for about a week and a half when I started to feel wet in my vagina area.  I was amazed because this hasn’t happened to me a long, long time.  It was like my head was speaking to my vagina again.   A week later I was feeling horny and actually wanted to make love.  I felt kinda like I did before menopause kicked in.   I felt like a sexual human being.  I was dreaming about making love and wanting to experiment with new positions.  I really wasn’t that conscious about my weight because my husband loves me the way I am.  I’m still fat, but I’m not concentrating on how fat I feel.

Honestly, I don’t know if it was the bracelet or not.  I’m thinking it was.  I don’t know what else it could be.   I’m not saying it will work for you, but it might.  It’s pricey, but it’s almost Christmas and I think it’s worth every penny.

I got my groove back and I’m thrilled.

So is my husband.

 

P.S.  the QP I wrote before the title means Quick Post.  I think if I like something or if something works for me I’m going to write a quick post about it and share it with you all.  I’ll mark these posts with QP in the title.

 

I Want To Express My Soul

I have never really taken up a lot of space in this world.  For my whole 52 years of life I have stayed quiet in a corner.  Not really saying much or causing the focus of the world to be on me.  I’ve never wanted to be the center of attention or have the attention on me.

Lately I’ve had a lot of trouble with anger.  Maybe, now, it’s because I want to be heard.  I want to be more of who I am.  I want to do what is important to me.  I want to matter.

I want to express my soul.

I realized today that maybe I’m angry because I want to take up more space in the world than I currently am.  I’m growing, learning and becoming more of myself.  As I change and grow and become more of the new me I am becoming stronger.  The stronger I become the more aware I am of what I need and want.  The more I become me the more space I am going to take up in the world.

Things that weren’t important to me are now important to me.  For example, my husband fixes lawn mowers, riding lawn mowers, snow blowers, etc. in the garage on the weekends.  I encourage him to do this because this is relaxing to him and it gives him the down time he needs after being on the road all week.  Most importantly, he enjoys it.  During the week I try to get all of my stuff done so help him get what he needs to get done while he’s home.

For the last couple of months something has been nagging at me in the back of my head.  How come I don’t make time for myself and my dreams like I make time for my husband’s?  During the week I make sure there is food for him to eat (sometimes) and that his favorite towels and his laundry is washed when he gets home.  I run whatever errands he needs.  I do whatever needs to be done.  Isn’t that what a truck driver’s wife is suppose to do?  My life basically runs around him and what he needs.

What about me?  What about what I need and want?  Why am I not treating myself like I treat my husband?  I think this is where my anger stems from because needs and wants that I never knew about or I did and I pushed back down are now coming to the surface.  They demand to be dealt with.   As I grow and change I’m realizing I want to take up more space in the world.  I want shout out to the world “Here I am.  Are you ready for me?”

Admitting this rocks the boat.  It unbalances things.  I don’t ask for a lot.  I don’t need a lot.  I guess…until now.

It’s not that I’m unhappy in my marriage because I’m not.  I’m very happy.   I just want more.  I don’t think this is wrong.  I want to expand me and who I am.  I’m getting to know the real me and this is awesome and scary at the same time. I’m feeling very raw right now.  I’m not sure how to express the new me and what I want and need.   I know  the balance needs to change to include more of me and I’m not exactly sure how to do this.

Balance.  This is what I need to find.  I need to find a balance between taking care of me and my needs (that unruly, bossy, sometimes uncontrollable, stubborn four year old inside of me that wants/needs to be heard) and my husbands.  It’s not the end of the world.

It’s just a new beginning.

Today I’m not worried about sentence structure, paragraphing or any of that other stuff.  I just need to get my feelings out on paper.  It’s not finished.  There’s probably stuff I forgot to include and that is ok.  When I started this blog I wanted to share my menopause journey and all of the messy, hard parts and this is one of them.

Thanks for following and/or reading my messed up menopause journey.

Have a great day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Am Not The Same Woman

I am a little sad today because I realized — full blown — that I am not the same woman I was before menopause.  Did I think I would be?  Yeah…a little.  I read about the changes, but for some reason I didn’t think it would happen to me.  Or, maybe, I hoped it wouldn’t happen to me.

My husband’s sisters were at the campground.  They are a loud and opinionated group.  I was a different person this time.  I didn’t keep my mouth shut.  I stated my opinion and why I felt the way I did.  I think all four sisters saw a side of me they never have.  By the end of the day I was tired, pissy and had had enough.

As I have said before, I try to keep my menopausal symptoms to myself and under wraps. I try not to be angry or pissy or let my patience run out, but sometimes I can’t do it.  Last night was one of those nights.  I was pissy and short tempered — a person I am usually not.

Before perimenopause I was always happy.  Nothing really bothered me.  It took me a long time to get mad at people.  I didn’t have a temper. I helped people whenever I could.  It didn’t matter if they did anything for me in return because I was happy to help.   I liked to be needed.  Sometimes I let people take advantage of my generosity.   I was quiet.  I didn’t voice my opinion for fear of making people mad.  I didn’t like conflict.   I didn’t want to be in the spotlight or let my light shine.  I basically stayed in the corner.

After perimenopause and into menopause I am very opinionated.  I have a voice and I share freely how I feel.  I don’t care if I voice my opinion and make people mad.  My temper is set off by someone breathing wrong.  It’s not funny, but sometimes it’s true.  If I’m pissed at you you will know.  I am not quiet.  I refuse to stand in the corner and be quiet.  I need to let my light shine.  I need to tell my story.  I’m not afraid to ask for what I want.   I’ve let go of friendships that I haven given and given and given to and didn’t get anything I return.  I refuse to come last in someone’s life.  My relationships need to have give and take in them — not just take.  I deserve to have good people and good things in my life.   I really don’t care if people like me or not.

My husband jokes around and tells people he fears for his life when he is home.  Maybe sometimes he is serious — depending on my mood.  He makes me laugh.  He’s the reason I have made it through this menopause stuff this far.  I feel very lucky that I can talk to him about my symptoms, how I feel and what I need to do.   He does stupid stuff and makes me laugh when I am crabby.  He makes me feel better.

Later on last night when we were alone I told him why I was pissy.  We talked about it.  I voiced my opinion and he voiced his.  We are on track and think the same way about a lot of things and this is one of them.  He listens to me and I feel loved.

I was sad this morning because I think my relationship with people may change or have changed because I am not the same person I was and I can’t go back to being that person.  This is who I am right now and people are just going to have to deal with it.  Call me a bitch or whatever you will, but I can’t go back.  I don’t want to go back.  I like this new me.  It’s almost like I am free.  I broke out of the chains and I can live the way I want to.  I feel this is the person I am meant to be.

 

I think on some level I am sad to let the old me go.  I was that person for over 45 years.  It was safe and I felt safe.  Some days I don’t know how to navigate these waters of menopause.  Some days I feel like a fish out of water and other days I feel I am swimming upstream barely making any progress.  I have been swimming in this river for the last two years and it hasn’t been fun.

It occurred to me today how much I have changed in the last two years.  I think camping this weekend in his family’s dynamic is the reason my sadness came to the surface.  It’s not a bad thing.  It just is.  I don’t feel I fit into the same places that I used to and it makes me question my place in the world.

This is what menopause does.  It turns your life upside down and you have to pick up the pieces and put it back together.

I am a different women and I like who I am becoming.  If other people don’t like the new me so be it.  That’s the way it is.  I’m not going back.

Do I Push Money Away?

My husband and I took our change the we had been saving for the last two years to the credit union to cash it in.  My husband wheeled it into the credit union in my yellow garden wagon.  There were funny looks and some whistles.  It took almost forty-five minutes to run it through the change machine.  End the end we had over two thousand dollars.

Two thousand dollars.  Holy crap!!!

On the way to work I was all smiles and very happy.  I was proud of my husband and I for saving that much.  But as the day wore on my good mood faded and doubt and worry kicked in. I wondered if I deserved to have that much money.  Why I was wondering this I don’t know.  It’s been our money all along — we just didn’t know how much was in the containers.  Then I wondered what if something happens and I loose it all?  Why I was thinking this I don’t know.  We had the change in the house and something could have happened, but didn’t.

Negative thoughts.  Fear.  Negative thoughts.  Fear.

Then I thought — I’m 52 years old and I deserve to have a lot of money.  Why can’t I have over two thousand dollars and feel good about it?  Screw good — what about feeling GREAT????!!!!!

Honestly, I’ve had a problem with letting money into my life my whole life.  I never thought I deserved it or was worth it.  I’ve always wanted a lot of money, but I have always wanted to stay small and not attract any attention to myself and my talents.  I don’t know where the idea of staying small comes into play.  Maybe it comes from being bullied when I was a kid.  Maybe I felt if I didn’t draw attention to myself then I wouldn’t be bullied??

I know if I want money I have to get big and let people see me and my talents. And then I will have to deal with my insecurities and everything else that comes up while I’m getting big.

On the flip side, that leads me to a whole bunch of questions.    If I have a lot of money will my friends be my friends?  Will people be jealous of me and/or hate me?  Will people hound me for money?  And the BIG question — do I deserve it?

How do I begin to think/feel that I deserve to have money?  Do daily affirmations? Write in my journal about my insecurities?  I’ve tried all of this before and it hasn’t worked for me.  Wait.  It has a little bit, but how do I find out what is truly keeping me from letting money in?  How do I excavate whatever belief(s) I have from deep within me?  This is what I have problems with.  Over the years I have become a little wealthier, but not where I want to be.  It’s been a slow process, but I have overcome some of my issues and danced around (but never fully embraced) the rest of my issues

I think menopause throws our issues and/or parts of ourselves onto the table and we have to deal with them – whether we want to or not.   We don’t get a choice.  Our issues bug us or haunt us until we deal with them and work through them.  We have to learn to get out of our own way.  We have to learn what we were put on this earth to do and give ourselves the love and space we need to figure it out.

I think finding our real selves is the part of menopause that is really hard.  We have to find our real selves.  We have to dig deep.  We have to be gentle with ourselves and the people are around because as we change our relationships with the people around us change as well.  Some people may not like this.  They may feel threatened by it, but that’s not our problem.  We can’t let this stop us from finding our true selves.

Something deep inside of me is stopping me from making/getting/having money into my life and this is the current issue I have to deal with.  It’s what menopause threw on my table.  It’s messy, ugly and probably mixed in with other issues I have to deal with, but so what.  That’s life.    I am a women going through menopause.  I am an adult and adults deal with things. I’m scared to see what is really there, but I have to do it.  I have to keep digging.  I can’t let the issues from my past dictate my life and keep me from what I know I’m suppose to be doing and having money.

I have to find a way to let money into my life.

Thanks for reading this post and have a great day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Is Wrong With Me?

I have a problem lately with people telling me what to do — no matter if it’s my mom, husband, family member, coworker, neighbor or stranger.  I get all prickly and my menopause mad kicks in.  I don’t need anyone telling me what to do.  I can decide for myself what I want to do.

For example the following situation happened at work last week:

   “Why didn’t you come in at 1 p.m. today?” A coworker asked me last week when I came in at 2 p.m. which is my normal starting time. “You know we are busy.”  

      I didn’t respond, but what rant went on in my head — I know we are busy, but I didn’t feel like coming on at 2 today.  It’s not mandatory.    There are things that I needed to do for myself  — like write for an hour.  I feel this is more important to my well being than coming in at 2.  I didn’t want to come in at 2 and I’m not feeling guilty about it.

I don’t know what to say.  It’s like I have this 4 year old that comes to the surface and has a tantrum.  She gets mad and says “You’re not going to tell me what do.  I’m smart enough and old enough to decide what I want to do and when I want to do it.  I will decide what is best for me.”

You have to understand something.  This isn’t me.  This really has never been me.  This isn’t the way I usually react to these situations.  This isn’t who I am.

Until now.

Until this menopause thing kicked in.

My fits come on like hot flashes — from the inside and boil out.  No warnings.  Just words tumbling out of my mouth.  No rhyme.  No reason.  Just tumbling.

It embarrasses me.  It makes me feel bad because I don’t know this part of myself.  I don’t know how to control her.  People probably think I’m a bitch, but I don’t know how to stop it.  I actually scares me to be like this sometimes because this is not me.  I used to be calm, quiet, and not allowed bothered me, but now look out.

For the first time in my life I’m not afraid to stand up for myself.  I’m not afraid to stand up for what I want and what I need and what is important to me.  This isn’t a bad thing.   It’s a good thing.  I’m just not used to being like this.

I feel like I’m coming into my own, but I’m not sure what my own is.  It’s funny because I don’t know who this person is, but I know it’s part of the real me coming to the surface.   It’s uncomfortable territory, but I ready to see what is there and who I really am and what she wants and needs.

Look out ’cause here I come!

 

 

 

Learn A Different Language

I read the above line on a church reader board right after the Paris attacks.  After thinking about for a couple of days I came up with the following new languages:

Love instead of hate

Compassion instead of anger

Being open minded instead of closed minded

Understanding instead of “my way or the highway” thinking

Tolerance instead of intolerance

Giving instead of taking

Doing things a new way instead of the same ole same ole

Patience instead of gimme right now

Peace instead of unrest

Please and thank you instead of rudeness

Joy instead of sadness

Hope instead of suffering

Sharing instead hoarding

Respect instead of entitlement

I think in one area of our lives each of us could learn a different language.  For me and my menopausal symptoms it would be patience.  I really need to learn how to be more patient.

What about you?  What new language will you learn today?

 

 

 

Blogging As A Form Of Therapy

I started my blog to share with women how I was making my fifties fabulous, how I was dealing with menopause, women that inspire me and to share my story.  I didn’t have any expectations except I hoped that people would read my blog and share their thoughts.  As I continue to share my story each week the more followers I get that share their story with me.

Over the last couple of months I’ve shared more of myself and my story than I originally planned.  The direction I thought my blog would take has taken a 180 degree turn and has gone in a totally different direction.   I thought I would write about the things I love like couponing and Las Vegas.  Instead I’m writing about things that are emotional for me and are bothering me.   I read a sentence on a reader board or a blog post or something happens at work or home that touches me in some way and I have to write about it.  I have to.  The words won’t stop running around in my head until I do.

On the flipside, I love the fact that all I have to do is enter the words like fear and anxiety in the look up line (for lack of a better term — it’s late and I’m tired) on WordPress, push go and boom! I can see blogs where bloggers might have the same issues as me and what they are doing to overcome them. I can try their suggestions and share it with the blogging community or I can go it alone. Reading other peoples blogs gives me different points of view, ideas and advice on how to make my life better from all over the world.

I never thought my blog would be a form of therapy for me, but sometimes as a write my post I am pouring part of who I am and what is bothering me into the post in a way I never thought I would.  I am putting myself out there in a way I never have before and it feels good.  It helps me emotionally to write about what is bothering me and get it out of my system.  In a way I think it heals me.

Two days ago I wrote about my fear and anxiety about cracking the glass on my new phone because I wasn’t able to get the case I wanted.   I thought if people read it that’s great and if they don’t that’s ok too.   I just needed to get it out.

Are your blog posts therapy for you?  If so, please share your story with me.  I look forward to it!

 

 

 

 

 

Note To Men: Menopause Is Real

This past weekend was bad.  My Menopause fog was in full effect on Saturday.  I couldn’t remember crap and my patience was running very thin.

It started at McDonald’s.  I was a little irritated because they were busy and no one acknowledged that I was standing there.  I understand that they are busy, but I also expected one of the three women behind the counter to say, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”  Common courtesy.

Later on that afternoon my husband wanted me to move the truck and lawn mower trailer so he could cut the grass.  This is something I have never done before and I really didn’t want to do it.  Long story short — the truck was kinda stuck so I kept gunning it and I put a 3 foot long rut into the lawn of my brother in laws campsite.  I was informed I needed to put the truck into a different gear.  How was I suppose to know if no one tells me?

After that, while we were frying supper (brats, pork chops, hamburger and potatoes, corn and asparagus wrapped in foil) over the bonfire, I tried to get the anti-gravity chair open and failed.  I expected the chair to open right away and when it didn’t I was ready to throw it and sit on the steps of my brother’s deck.

My brother in law patiently talked through getting my chair open.

My brother started to make a menopause joke.

I shut him up before he could finish.  “Menopause isn’t a joke.  It’s real.  It isn’t easy and it sucks.”

Silence.  They looked at me like I was a crazy woman and I feel like an ass because I let my menopause symptoms get the best of me, but sometimes I can’t help it. The impatience comes out of nowhere.  Boom!  It’s right there with no warning and me (and everyone else around me) has to deal with it.

I was embarrassed because I didn’t want everyone to see what a hot mess I felt like on the inside.  The forgetfulness is one one thing, but then add in impatience and anger. Look out.   Most of the time I try to keep my menopausal symptoms to myself, but sometimes, no matter how tightly the box is closed, they escape and there really isn’t anything I can do about it.  My menopausal symptoms are real.  I’m not making things up to get attention or to get treated like a princess.  There are a lot of things happening in my body and I’m trying to make the best of it.

I’m lucky.  I have a husband I can talk to about my symptoms.  He listens and is there for me.  He gives me the time and space I need.  He jokes around and makes me laugh.  If I say “I’m stupid today” he know I need help with things because I can’t remember anything.  My mind is just a fog and I have to wait until it clears to function normally again.

Usually acupuncture takes care of my menopausal symptoms, but my acupuncture appointment on Friday was cancelled due to road construction.  I didn’t think it would be a problem, but it was.  I needed acupuncture and I needed it bad!

Some days I wish he made house calls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Didn’t Deserve To Be Treated Like That

What I realized this weekend (while floating on the pond on my swan floatie) is that I’m not so upset about losing the house.    What I am upset about and what stings the most is how I was treated by the seller.

At the beginning of the house purchase the seller of the house we wanted to buy was bitching about the seller of the house he wanted to buy.  Three weeks later he was bitching about his realtor and how he wasn’t doing his job.    All of that bitching should have set off a red flag, but I didn’t know him very well and I just thought he was having bad luck.  I didn’t see the red flag until the anger was directed toward me.

What makes me mad is he had no respect for me and my husband or our feelings.  He didn’t take what was going on in our lives into consideration.  He just was concerned about himself.  He wanted what he wanted right now and if he didn’t get what he wanted right now he was pissed off.

It’s bullshit because I didn’t deserve his anger.  I don’t feel my husband or I did anything to deserve his anger.  We didn’t deserve to be yelled the way he yelled at us over the lies he made up.    I would never yell at someone the way he yelled at me.  It was rude.  It was uncalled for and it hurt.

I don’t deserve to be yelled at because he is having trouble with things on his end.  I know everything that had happened over the last month and a half probably was brewing inside of him and something I did was the made him snap and was the lucky receiver of his anger.  I felt I bent over backwards to help him because I knew he was having problems, but he didn’t appreciate anything I did.  If anything, I deserved to be thanked.

Looking back, we should have walked away and never gave him the thirty days but we did.  I know.  I’m too nice sometimes and I know this, but my question is: How do I know when to be “not nice”?  Aren’t you suppose to treat people the way you want be treated?  I don’t know.   This is something I still need to work on……

The good thing is is that I learned a couple of things during this process.  I think when we are in our fifties we start to see a new woman come to the surface.  She’s stronger.  She’s able to process and communicate her feelings in a way she never could before.  She’s not afraid to communicate her feelings.  She’s not afraid to ask for what she needs.

I have definitely seen a stronger me in the last couple of weeks.  I’m not so meek anymore.  This experience has opened up a new side me and I like what I see.  I am defiantly more vocal and more willing to stand up for myself than I thought I was.  I’m very proud of myself.

I’m proud of myself for two reasons:

1.  I didn’t back down.  I didn’t hesitate to get as bucky as he was.  He yelled.  I yelled back until he back down.  If he can yell at me, I can yell back.  He can’t tell me what to do nor do I have to listen.  I stood in the “ring” in full sight and I wasn’t afraid.   I was ready to stand up for myself.  No standing in the corner for me.

2.  For speaking my truth.  I told him exactly how I felt.  Even when he wouldn’t let me talk, I talked until he stopped talking and listened to me.  I told him how wrong I thought he was and I called him out on his lies.  (I know there are two sides to every story, but he won’t be getting a chance to tell his side of the story on MY blog)  And I let him know that I was pissed off.

For someone to yell at you and blame your for their problems is wrong, but what is really wrong is for you not to stand up for yourself.    I deserve to speak and express myself.  I deserve to have my side of the story heard.  No man is ever going to tell me that I can’t speak.  That I can’t tell my truth.  That what I have to say or how I feel isn’t as important as his.

F that.

I’m damn proud I stood up to him.  Did I honestly think I had it in me?  No.  I have never screamed at someone like that in my life.  No.  It felt good to stand up for myself.    My confidence is up a notch higher.

I’m walking taller today.