Season 2 Episode 1 Aging, Menopause & Body Wars

Hi Ya’ll!  Welcome to Still Stella – Living Life Sarcastically

 This podcast comes with a Trigger Warning: Extreme Sarcasm & Mild Emotional Violence

 Today we are talking about Aging, Menopause… and full-blown Body Wars.

 Because I swear — at this age — our bodies are not aging gracefully.

 They are staging a coup against us.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Welcome to Stell Stella. Living Life Sarcastically. Hi y'all. Welcome to Still Stella Living Life Sarcastically. This podcast comes with a trigger warning, extreme sarcasm, and mild emotional violence. Today we're talking about aging, menopause, and full-blown body wars. Because I swear, at this age, our bodies are not aging gracefully. They're staging a coup against us. It's been a busy couple of weeks. We celebrated an anniversary and a birthday, which means cake, celebration, and food. And now I need a two-week recovery period. I probably need a few days of fasting from all the food and celebration as well. I know they say aging is a privilege. Well this privilege is tiring as hell, and I'm a hundred percent ready for a break. There are so many things that come with getting older. Some of them are beautiful. Some are truly violent. Let's start with hot flashes. Or is it rage? This is part of the violent part of aging. Your tolerance is significantly lower. Honestly, at this point it's hard to tell the difference between my body raging and hot flashes. Is it seventy two degrees in here? Or am I about to flip a table because someone chewed too loud? Hot flashes certainly don't ease in quietly or politely. They arrive like a bat out of hell, full flames, then disappear just as fast, leaving you standing there all sweaty and confused like was that menopause or was I about to commit a felony? I swear I feel like a vampire in sunlight some days, disoriented and trying to figure out what's going on. And what about the rage? Oh, she's still in there. Menopause didn't create her, it just removed the filter and released her from her cage. I find things aggravate me much faster these days. I think I count to ten way more these days than I ever have. Unfortunately, then I remind myself that counting to ten can also be misconstrued as premeditation, so I better just keep it to myself. They also say we get better with age. I really like this one. Well then, I must be flawless by now. Who is this saying all this stuff anyway? How do they know? I feel like I'm more dangerous now than I've ever been because I just plain don't care and have a lot less to lose. And the damn brain fog. Let's talk about that brain fog. Is it menopause? Or am I just over fifty and this is my villain origin story? Am I gonna turn into some kind of cruella? I know that would never work because I love puppies way too much. I could plan my own surprise party at this point and forget to show up. Although if I did remember to show up, I'd probably be just as surprised. I constantly walk into a room and forget why I'm there. I open my phone and forget who I was mad at or who I was supposed to message. People think I'm mad at them because I don't answer their text. But quite frankly, I did answer you in my mind two or three times, but forgot to actually type it or hit send. I just celebrated another birthday. Yep, another one. I don't look a day over half a century, do I? Careful how you answer that one. I will remember you said it. We know I'll forget as soon as you say it. We are in our golden jubilee era, which basically means we've earned the right to say what we want, because who exactly is gonna stop us? We don't care what people think at all. We definitely march to the beat of our own drum. And what about nights? Oh nights are so special. I don't mean special, such as romance and sweet dreams. It's more like nightmares and a horror story on an endless loop. The hot flashes keep Jason running around confused as to what to do next. I think even Jason would be scared of menopausal women. I wake up drenched, in a sweat like I just ran a marathon in a sauna. Meanwhile, my husband's wrapped in blankets like a refrigerated burrito. Explain that to me. How am I on fire and he's auditioning for frozen three? To me it feels hotter than four hells at seventy degrees. There's so much talk these days about minnow wars, and they are raging everywhere. Everyone has an opinion or the next great cure. There's plenty of misinformation and disagreements on how to handle it. They tell you to take supplements. Don't take supplements. They say you have to do hormone replacement therapy. Then don't you dare do HRT. They say eat soy. Avoid soy. They recommend cold showers and ice packs. Unless I live in the shower and permanently walk around with ice packs duct taped to me, I'm sure they will not solve the problem, but possibly provide a few minutes of relief. Moon water blessed by menopause witches. Now this is my favorite, because it probably is the most viable option. I just want to get a good night's sleep without igniting like a wild brush fire. Instead, I'm half awake, sweating, wondering if I have to pee, and calculating whether it's worth it getting up. We all know if I don't go ahead and just get up and pee, it's gonna wake me up anyway in just a little bit. It really is out of my control. And yet, with all that said, here's the upside to aging. You really do stop caring. You're not concerned with what people think. They don't define you. Bless their hearts. You don't need forty two acquaintances and three fake brunch invites. You're content with your coffee or wine, or both. You don't like me? Stand in line. Odds are I probably don't like you either. Society seems to think once we hit this age, we're supposed to quietly fade out into the background. Time to hang up your dancing shoes and put on sensible ones. We're supposed to shrink ourselves in some quiet corner and discuss cholesterol. Absolutely not. This is not my legacy to quietly fade away. I've been fighting this narrative for years. Especially because aging for me isn't just wrinkles and hormones, it's also chronic illness. I've been living with chronic inflammatory demyinating poly neuropathy, short version of CIDP, for over 15 years. Fancy name? Not a fancy experience. In simple terms, my immune system thinks the protective covering on my nerves is the enemy. So it attacks it with uncontrollable aggression. Imagine an electrical cord with no insulation. That's my nervous system on a bad day. It brings fatigue, brain fog, pain, and balance issues. So if you've ever seen me trip, congratulations! It's not just clumsiness, it's neurological flair. CIDP isn't curable, it's just manageable. There have been seasons where I've lost temporary use of an arm, a leg, and my feet. I've used a walker, a cane, and a rod of different types of braces. And I did it in cute outfits because if I'm going down, I'm going down accessorized. Right now, my knee replacement is throwing a tantrum. It wakes up some mornings and says, Nope, we're not cooperating. My body loves pitching a hissy fit. Between menopause and CIDP, it's basically a hostile takeover. You never know which one of the two is in control. You just know they're both out of control, making your body pitch a hissy fit. And hear me clearly, I'm not complaining. I'm just stating facts. Because the truth is, a lot of people are walking around fighting battles you can't see. You never truly know what someone's navigating behind closed doors. And here's what aging has taught me. Enjoy the cool moments, literally and figuratively. Enjoy the days when you don't feel like a human bonfire. Enjoy walking into a room and remembering why you did in the first place, and absolutely savor the moments when pain is not the main character in your story. Because we are not done. We are not packing it in. We are rewriting the script. We say no now. We rest now. We choose ourselves now. And if we don't want to go, we don't go. If we don't want to tolerate it, we don't obstinate, maybe. Empowered? Definitely. 100%. So the moral of today's body wars, your body may wage war, but your spirit doesn't have to surrender. Thank you all for listening. If you enjoyed today's chaos, make sure you follow or subscribe so you don't miss next Thursday's episode. Share it with the women in your life who need to hear. They are not crazy, they are just seasoned, because life is way too short. Marry your lobster, drink the rum, say no without explanation, and never let society convince you your fire is supposed to go out. Thank you for listening to Dill Stella Living Life Sarcastically.