Quitter (Part 2)

Booze

So, more than 3 months ago, I stopped drinking alcohol.

Compared to quitting soda pop it was a snap to do. I think I looked at my quit app to remind myself  maybe once a week for the first month or so? Compared to hourly checks when I first quit drinking Coca-Cola.

Which in a way is not too surprising. I was a daily Coke-drinker when I quit pop. A first-thing-in-the-morning, jonesing, sugar fix desperado. And, while I have been a daily alcohol-drinker at times during my life, I wasn't at the time when I quit. I was probably having 1-5 drinks a week, depending on my social calendar.

Now I only look at my app when someone is cajoling me to have a glass of something and I want an easy way to explain why the answer is "no". Hey, I'm three months in. The quit app is the new AA token.

My quit app on Day 90. It has taken me a while to finish this post; I am now at Day 102.

Why?

I decided to stop drinking for 6 months to find out if there was a correlation for me between alcohol consumption and the hot flashes and mood swings I was experiencing as symptoms of peri-menopause. Back in July, I noticed those symptoms had ramped up big-time. I went from experiencing one or two hot flashes a week to several every day. And my mood swings became more severe, too. The lows that had been lasting 2-3 days started lasting 2-3 weeks.

I was about to throw myself on the mercy of the nearest naturopath when I thought to myself, am I doing everything I can do? Am I eating right, getting regular exercise? Why not run an experiment to see if alcohol is a trigger for me? Are these things not worth a try before I spend hundreds of bucks (that I don't have to spare) on alternative medicine?

The proof is in the pudding (and I'm not talking about 150-overproof)

Three months in, I feel fantastic. I still have some hot flashes, but rarely more than one a day and often none at all. My mood seems a lot more stable, too. And, I feel more "with it" emotionally. It seems clear to me, that I am in the subset of people for whom alcohol has an impact on peri-menopausal symptoms. 

Of course, it might not be the alcohol itself that is the agent of change here.

I've been thinking lately about the phrase "The opposite of addiction is connection" and the ideas that go along with that (if this is the first time you're encountering that phrase, you might want to take 17 minutes to check out this TED talk).

I think it's possible that the act of not drinking has opened me up to more connection: with myself, my life, the world, my feelings and my friends and family. If we sometimes drink to make up for a lack of connection, I wonder if choosing not to drink alcohol can make it easier for us to connect?

Connection has never been particularly easy for me. Since I started drinking at age 19, alcohol has been my main medication for my struggles with connection and intimacy – and like many western medications, while it does nothing to cure the root cause and has terrible side effects, it does do a pretty good job at masking symptoms. Alcohol often succeeded at numbing the feelings I had about my struggles with connection. But drinking also made it harder for me to have authentic connections – and, well, I'm sure you can see the potential for a vicious cycle there...

A new leaf

I feel like I'm spiralling up. I think that not drinking is helping me to get better at connecting. I'm not sure where that's going to take me. What I can say is that I am loving the experience of not drinking. I feel more like myself. And I like myself more. 

It takes me back to when I was a teenager. I was a little goody two-shoes: no booze, no drugs, no sex, no tobacco. (But lots of cursing.) That was a good space for me at the time. It was simple, and it was a simplicity that I knew I needed then. 

I guess it's not surprising that during the huge hormonal shift of peri-menopause, I am finding comfort in the same strategies I used during my adolescence. Not drinking feels simpler than drinking. And it's a simplicity I know I need right now.

Of course, it's a little weird socially. And culturally. I suddenly notice what a huge emphasis our culture puts on drinking. It runs throughout TV shows, movies, books, music and conversation. Most of my friends and acquaintances (with a few notable exceptions) are drinkers. And I used to be someone who LOVED to drink and often talked and joked about drinking.  

So, I'm adjusting. 

And it feels good. 

Without question, three months is the longest I have gone without drinking alcohol since I was 19. That's 27 years of greater and lesser dependence on alcohol. I'm holding things open, but I expect to breeze through the rest of my 6-month experiment and won't be surprised to see it transform into 12 months, which may well become 24 months, which may well become...

PS: Unlike pop, where I have an occasional bottle or can, quitting booze has been an experience of 100% compliance. I'm not saying I haven't had a few times when I badly wanted a drink – like the day I moved for example, and some of the more stressful days during my building project – but so far I have wanted to not drink more than I wanted to drink.

PPS: Just for fun, here's one of my favourite laments about going sober: Coffee Dogs by the redoubtable Kevin Quain. (The only working link I could find for this song is on Spotify, so you'll have to login to listen).

Body Wisdom #6: Hot flashes, shame and sugar

I've been having a hot-flashy bunch of mornings, waking up at 3 or 4 or 5 because I'm TOO HOT.

I'm discovering for myself an interesting correlation between the hormones that make me flushed and feelings of shame.

Shame is a hot emotion for me. It starts with a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach: an uncomfortable, unsettled, roiling feeling that spreads up my chest, arms and face in a blush of heat and colour. Shame-faced, as they say.

For me, hot flashes feel a lot like shame. The only difference is that hot flashes don't start with that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

What's particularly interesting to me is that days when I'm having a lot of hot flashes also seem to be days when I am more likely to do or say something that causes me to feel shame. I've been wondering about how the mechanics of that work. Do the hormones make me more likely to say or do things I could feel ashamed of, or do they make me more likely to feel shame about something that I have said or done?

After much consideration, I think that what's going on here is that my discomfort is acting as a catalyst for my behaviour and the ensuing shame. Hot flashes are uncomfortable. So are many other peri-menopausal symptoms, like depression, down-spiralling self-regard, lack of sleep/fatigue or feeling like you're about to burst into tears for no reason. I also believe that a heightened sense of "not belonging" might be a peri-menopausal symptom, in the same way that it is often an adolescent one.

I think it is a pretty basic instinct to discharge discomfort by pushing it away: sending a harsh email or flippant text, making a mean joke, gossiping – essentially making one's own discomfort be about someone else.

Last week, for instance, I told a joke that seemed funny in my head, but landed with a THUD. And then the other day, I found something slipping out of my mouth that – well, if someone had said something like that to me, I would have felt so angry and judgmental. I realize now that both instances were knee-jerk reactions to feeling like I didn't belong. Both times I felt very ashamed afterward – afraid that I had been insensitive or inappropriate and either hurt somebody's feelings or ticked them off or just simply acted like a real jerk – like someone I don't want to be.

Both times I went and ate a large amount of chocolate afterwards.

And then I felt better. Well, I felt less ashamed. I did feel physically queasy, so it's probably more accurate to say that I felt both better and worse at the same time.

Making the connection between sugar and shame felt enlightening. I suppose since shame is the fear of not belonging/being loved and eating sugar simulates feeling loved and comforted for me, it makes sense that eating sugar would soothe my feelings of shame.

Sugar is a bandaid.

Sometimes, bandaids come in handy. They are great at temporarily protecting an open wound. But what I've been thinking more and more is that the hope of healing those wounds lies in leaning in to my discomfort and doing a better job of owning it.

This is a rocky time for me, and also a beautiful time – a beautiful, rocky time. I feel lucky to be where I am, to have the option of a lot of solitude and quiet and space to be where I'm at. And when I'm in a situation where I feel uncomfortable or like I don't belong, I am encouraging myself to lean into my discomfort, to breathe and to own that I feel how I feel and that that is okay, that I am still safe. And when I don't feel up to doing that, I am giving myself permission to step away – or to burst into tears – or more likely, to step away and then burst into tears.

This is going to be a struggle for me. It will require me to be much more vulnerable that I'm comfortable being. I hope I can accept myself where I'm at and feel compassionate for myself moment to moment. In all of these beautiful, rocky moments.

Menopause: Mood Swings

I have noticed an interesting trend in my moods. The bouts of peri-menopausal euphoria I've been experiencing occasionally over the past couple of years have been extending into a pretty regular phenomenon. I can no expect to feel unreasonably happy and high for about 7-10 days out of every month.

Pair this with 4 or 5 days a month when I feel absolutely full of hate and have to bite my fingers to keep from trying to start big fights with people via email or Facebook.

Definitely a weird place to be.

I'm trying to stay even-Steven. No big decisions on the up days, no massive outburts on the down days. Afterall, there are still 15 days a month when I feel like myself. Plenty of time to get things done.

Makes me think of this song, Mood Swings, that I wrote in the 1990s and posted as part of my 52-song project last year. Have a listen, if you will.

Menopause and Misery

Back in February, I wrote a blog post about Menopause and Euphoria. 

Today, it is time to write about the other side of the peri-menopausal coin.

The Dark Side.

Yes, this is the part of the menopausal experience that gets all of the bad press. And I understand why.

I once worked in an office in which about 75% of the employees were women going through menopause. I have never been exposed to so much random screaming and crying. Seriously, there were so many damn feelings around the place that it was often difficult to get any work done. Responses to every little thing were over-the-top, melodramatic. And as for the BIG problems – well, there was more than one all-out, cataclysmic meltdown during my time there. At the time, in my late twenties and early thirties, I rolled my eyes and sighed a lot.

Now I have a much deeper understanding.

Wow, but the feelings that come with these hormonal ebbs and flows are big. They are inarguable, irrational and often very, very unpleasant.

The voices in one's head say terrible things like "Why do I even bother to keep on living?" "Nobody loves me." "Everyone is taking me for granted/trying to screw me over."

The voices are loud and insistent. And they make me want to do terrible things: send out vicious emails, fire clients, tell people exactly what I think of them, weep all everybody, complain, wail, bemoan, etc., etc., etc.

I cannot imagine having to hold down a 9–5 job while this is going on.  I also can't imagine trying to have an intimate relationship. I am grateful that I don't have children. I can only imagine the damage I might do.

A few days a month, the best thing I can do is keep myself to myself. Try not to post on social media (unless it's something innocuous like a picture of the beach), try not to hit the Send button on any email that is not strictly routine (As requested, please see attached file. Best regards, Alex), decline invitations to social events and hang out alone repeating to myself:

"This is not real. This is a mental state caused by fluctuating hormones. It will pass. Ride it out."

An innocuous photo of the beach.
Posted on social media with the inoffensive comment: "Low tide:"
When in doubt, try to stay rooted in reality. If reality seems entirely
awful, go back to bed for a couple of days, or until you seem to
have regained your sense of perspective.

As hard as I've tried to avoid taking action when I am in a state of emotional distress, I have definitely slipped a few times and done some dumb things this summer, damaged some relationships, hurt myself and others.

I'm hoping that I'll keep learning and that I will get better at surfing these waves of feelings.

I'm prescribing myself another winter of jigsaw puzzles and rest.

And reminding myself of a few basic tenets:

If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

There is a time and a place for everything.

Count to ten before responding to something upsetting (which translates to waiting AT LEAST 24-hours before sending any email with emotional content – or even with emotional undertones)

To abstain from action is well – except to acquire merit. (Rudyard Kipling, Kim)

Menopause and Euphoria

No one ever told me it would be like this. 

I started experiencing peri-menopausal symptoms in November 2012. I missed a period and had a bunch of hot flashes. I asked my doctor and she said that I should take a pregnancy test and if I wasn't pregnant, I was probably going into menopause.

She was very nonchalant, which was fine by me. I don't want my doctor going all hysterical on me just because I'm entering an inevitable next stage of my life.

Anyway, I wasn't pregnant, so it seemed likely that I was entering into The Change. I was 41, which is a little early, but still considered "within the 'normal' age range".

The Mythology of the DREADED change

I had heard a lot of things about menopause before I arrived here. I think many women do. I have witnessed some other women's experiences with Hormone Replacement Therapy and menopause-related emotional meltdowns. I have seen menopause be a mostly empowering experience for some women and a mostly disempowering experience for others.

Certainly, there are generational factors at play. Many women have pioneered greater openness and empowerment for women coming after them. I remember having tea with my grandmother and a dear friend of hers about twenty years ago. My grandmother's friend fanned herself enthusiastically during a hot flash and said to me, "I'm doing this, Alex, so that when you get here, you can fan yourself without feeling embarrassed." I do, and I always think of her.

The Reality

There have been some harsh things about menopause for me. My periods, which were pretty easy when I was a young woman, have been getting progressively worse since I hit 35 or so. At this point, they are way too many days of agony and ibuprophen. And my PMS is bad. Some days I feel so cranky and crazy that I prefer not to be in contact with other human beings. When I am, I try to stay conscious and not get too mean. But it's not always easy.

The Secret Awesomeness

The first time it happened, I was taken by surprise.

I experienced a couple of days of absolute euphoria.

I mean, high-as-a-kite, grinning-like-a-hyena euphoria.

Everything felt awesome, delightful, blissful.

Being someone who hasn't experimented with drug use or long-distance running, I couldn't remember ever having felt like that before. But it's what I can imagine a really good high might feel like and it gives me some insight into why people might chase that experience.

When it first happened, I didn't know what was going on. I mean, I often feel happy, but not like that. I began to wonder if it might be a menopause thing.

I googled and found this blog post from Barbara Younger, along with some other accounts of menopausal euphoria. I also read the Wikipedia article about euphoria, and saw how heavily pathologized it is in Western medicine.

Personally, I look at it as a gift. It's been happening to me a couple of times a year for a couple of days at a time. While euphoric spells are not a good time to make major life decisions, they are an excellent time to let go and be. Enjoy the ride, some hormonal compensation for all of the crankiness and misery.

Euphoria and depression

I've been struggling with depression for quite a few months now and last week, just in the middle of wondering if I was ever going to stop feeling depressed, I hit a bout of euphoria. Suddenly, I felt wonderful. Nothing had changed in my external world, but my brain chemistry had suddenly shifted and everything felt different.

It had the effect of hitting the reset button, reminding me that so much of our experience is due to our brain state. I followed that euphoric spell with two days of listening to inspirational TED Talks, like this one. I could feel my neurons firing as I learned and digested new information about the world. I've begun to feel better. I'm smiling more often and feeling better about myself.

Knowing the relapsing-remitting nature of the depression I've experienced so far, I'm probably not out of the woods yet. However, I am feeling more connected to the present moment and more skeptical about my brain states. There is difficult and there is easy and there is everything in between. And really, nothing is very different from anything else, but for the meaning we grant it in the present moment.

Thanks, Menopause. I needed that.

Editor's note: technically, in many places where I wrote "menopause" above, I should have written "peri-menopause", but that just sounds too pedantic. I'm sure you knew what I meant.

Depression Part 4: Waking Up Tired

A couple of months ago, I thought I was through with being depressed. I was taking good care of myself and feeling brighter.

Sadly, it is not that easy. The holidays are usually an unpleasant time for me, so I was not too surprised that I got a little down in December. But things usually improve for me after Janaury 1st. Not this year though. This January has been atypically rough.

I'm still taking good care of myself. I've been doing a food experiment (which I'll probably write about when it's complete) which has meant no wheat, corn, soy, dairy or alcohol and limited sugar. This means that I have been eating lots of healthy, unprocessed food. And I've been doing yoga almost daily and loving it.

Weepy and Sleepy

And, I'm still depressed. Weepy and sleepy, I would describe myself. I long to go to bed each day. I've been packing in the day by 8pm, sleeping for 10 hours and not wanting to get out of bed when I do wake up. Even though I'm getting more sleep that I usually get, ever, I've been waking up tired.  Some mornings, I would even say exhausted. And my mood is low. Very low. Extremely low. A mix of hopelessness, disappointment and diffuse rage.

That is absolutely not like me. I'm a morning person. To the extreme. I usually travel from zero to sixty in zero seconds flat. I wake up in fifth gear, raring to go. Bright and cheerful, a regular Little Merry Sunshine.

Disconnection

The funny thing is that my rational mind is mostly okay. I know that things are just fine in my life. I have food, shelter, loving friends and family, enjoyable work, interesting artistic projects.

Before now, I've heard and read many accounts of the disconnect between one's rational thoughts and one's mood that can happen during a major depression, but this is really the first time I have experienced it.

I see the difficulty that I might be facing in getting out of this place. If my rational mind is disconnected from my emotional state, how do I reason and talk myself out of here?

What now?

I have some hope that my upcoming busy work season will help lift me out of this state. That the endorphins inspired by pleasurable work will jumpstart my system. And I have some other things I'm planning to try – focused around managing my peri-menopausal hormonal fluctuations, which I'm sure are contributing to my depressive symptoms.

The things I'm doing and planning to do might help and they might not. 

I've set a deadline for myself. If the things I'm trying haven't made a significant difference by April 30, I step the interventions up a notch.

Wish me luck, please. 

There is something in the autumn... Let's call it wisdom

A Vagabond Song

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

–Bliss Carman

This is one of the many poems that I associate with my grandmother. She would recite it often in the fall and to this day, when the asters are out in full force along the sides of the road in Nova Scotia, fragments of this poem run through my head anytime I go anywhere.

I am missing my grandmother quite a lot lately. A friend posted this link on Facebook this week, a video interview about how to design a good life for oneself. In it Debbie Millman talks about how most of her design contemporaries feel like frauds who are always striving to do work of which they can feel proud. She says the only designers she's spoken with who don't seem to feel that way are mentors of hers who are in their 80s. They seem to know who they are and to feel confident and competent in their work, their choices, their lives.

In the wake of the turmoil and upset of the past year, I suppose I'm feeling a longing for the equanimity of age. I had the great benefit of my grandmother's company into her late 90s, and she could always be counted on for perspective and wisdom (along with a pot of tea and a hand of cards). I know if Nana were here she would reassure me that next year will be better than this year. Or if not next year, the year after. Having lived through many challenges herself, I know what she would say of my recent struggles with heartbreak and with peri-menopausal symptoms: "The wounds we get leave scars that we can see for the rest of our lives, but after a while, they don't hurt anymore. Don't pick at it – it will heal faster."

She said that to me more than once while she was alive. I didn't always agree with her: at times in my life I've needed to pick the scabs off things and let them bleed clean. But this time, I think her words are right on the money – I need to stop picking over my hurts and stop dwelling on feeling bad. There is nothing I can do to change what has happened. And while I do feel bad right now, I think I'll feel better faster if I don't indulge those feelings. What is done is done and the best thing I can do is accept it and let it go.

I am very grateful that I listened to my Nana while she was alive.

I am grateful I stored her wisdom in my heart against the current need, since she isn't here to tell me herself:

It will be better in time.

Don't pick at it.

Thanks, Nana.