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!

 

 

 

Why Do We Work? Surprise. Surprise.

Work.  It’s something most of us do 40+ hours a week.  But why?  Why do we work?  More importantly — why do you work?

Is it because it’s what you were told you were suppose to do since you were little?  Because you want things?  Because you have bills to pay and or kids to support?  Because you want to make your parents happy?

Do you have the job that you have because it’s your career and you love it?  Because it’s the job you have had since high school and you feel comfortable?  Because you need money now and you can go after your dream job later?

I have worked with the same company for the last twenty years.  I have had five different positions, but none of them really have fulfilled me.   I have always felt like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole at work.  I have always wanted to be a writer, but never went fully after my dream.

Until now.

Most of my job consists of  sorting and picking orders.  And the funny thing I realized last night while laying in bed is that my dad did the same job in a different company how thirty years ago.  I always was a daddy’s girl and I always wanted to be like him. Isn’t it weird that I would have the same job as he had and not realize it?  Am I that out of touch with my job self? If I always wanted to be like him then why wouldn’t I have the job as he had?

But the thing is is that I am not him.  I am me and I am an adult.  An adult who is capable of doing anything she wants and that includes being a writer.  I don’t have to be like my dad job wise.  I can be like him in other areas — honest, hard working, loving, kind, but I don’t have to do the same job he did.

Wow.  I didn’t realize I was doing this.  Why I am working in the same job as he did I don’t know.   Wait.  Yes I do.  On some level I still want to be like him even though I am 52 years old and thought I was way past this.  You would have thought I would have realized this sooner.   I wish I would realized this sooner, but now that I realized this I feel like a weight has been lifted from me.  I always wondered why I stayed at my job even thought it didn’t fulfill me.   It’s funny that the things that are the closest to us are the things we don’t see.

This isn’t how I wanted this post to go.  I have notes that I didn’t even look at (maybe I can use them for another post) because my truth came tumbling out of me.  This is the beauty of writing — you have a plan, but then sometimes it gets derailed and something better comes of it.  Sorry if parts don’t make sense.

I wonder what will happen now that I let go of the need to be who my dad was instead of being myself.  It’s not a bad thing that I was who I was, but now it will be interesting to see how things will change.  Maybe I will let go of my job.  Maybe more writing opportunities will present themselves.   Maybe a new me will emerge.  Maybe nothing will happen.  Who knows.

Please excuse me.  I have to go.  I’m going to starting revising the 2nd draft of my romance novel tonight.   Wish me luck!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!

 

 

 

 

 

A New Phone Brings Up An Old Issue

My husband and I purchased new phones on Sunday.   Usually I post on Sundays, but after spending two and a half hours at the store switching phones and then a couple of hours trying to figure out things like voicemail, email, etc. I was mentally worn out.

And I was anxious.

My phone isn’t in the protective case like my last phone was.  They don’t make that case anymore so we had to go with a different brand and, of course, the store didn’t have them in stock so we had to order them.  I bought a cover (which I can return), but I didn’t buy the protective screen cover.   I should of bought it, but I can’t return it and I didn’t feel like paying $30 for something that I am going to use for only six days.

I’m afraid of dropping it and cracking the screen so I don’t use it a lot.  I wish the case would  come in so I don’t have to deal with the feelings I feel.  It’s weird because I can feel all of this fear in my shoulders and I usually don’t feel anxious.

Honestly, I don’t think the phone is the reason I feel the way I do.  I think worrying about dropping the phone (yes we do have insurance on them so it shouldn’t be a big deal) is just bringing feelings from past event(s) in my childhood that need to be dealt with to the surface.

While laying in bed last night I pictured slots in my shoulders opening and all of this fear rushing out.  I breathed in and out and let the fear naturally flow out of my shoulders until it was gone.  I was surprised that there was that much fear inside of me that needed to get out.  It felt good to get it out.  I felt lighter and slept great.

When I putting the dishes away this morning I remembered an event from my childhood.  I think was in 6th grade, but I don’t remember exactly.  My parents were cub scout leaders and we were all at the grade school gym for some reason.  I remember moving a sweatshirt off of a chair and something crashing on the floor.  It was an award that a cub scout won that evening.  I looked around and no one was paying attention so I put the broke award back in the sweatshirt.

I tried to talk to my mom about it several times throughout the evening, but there wasn’t a good moment where I could get her alone to tell her.  I felt horrible and wished I could have told her, but she was busy.  At the end of the night, the cub scout realized his award was broke and told my mom.  “Did you see who did this?  I can’t believe no one said anything.”  She was mad and by that time I had decided not to tell anyone.   “I didn’t see anything, Mom.”

Is the fear from this memory triggering the fear and anxiety that I’ve been feeling?  It could be.  Or this memory may not have anything to do with it at all.  It’s kinda hard to believe that old feelings like that are still hanging around inside of me.  I’ve been to counseling and have written in a journal to deal with stuff from my past.  I thought I had taken care of all of that stuff, but obviously not — some issue needed to be heard.

I think when we are menopausal we have to deal with all of the old crap that floats to the surface.  There isn’t anymore room for stuff like this in our bodies.  We can’t let it take up anymore room in our psyches.  We have to let all of this old stuff go to make room for the person we want to be.

I feel better now that I know what possibly triggered my anxiety and fear.  I still wish I had the case, but Saturday will come soon enough.  Until then I will give myself time to release my fear and move on.

It’s only a phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.