The decline of my cognitive abilities, more specifically is the decline related to my depression/autoimmune issues or perimenopause, more specifically when will I have my old brain back? I get glimpses: a day last week when my brain felt razor sharp and alert, and I wrote out three wonderful article ideas, worked on my novel and an essay and came up with what I think of as a creative cluster. That was one day amongst many when my brain feels like pudding, slow and stubbornly fixated on the endlessly boring (ME) and not on the endlessly interesting (LIFE). It makes me feel sick with fear at times.
The decline of my overall health in the last year. Despite everything I'm doing– targeted supplements, exercise, yoga, cut sugar almost out, mostly gluten-free, lots of healthy fats, proteins and veggies, sunshine, testing that says cheerful things like ' yay you! you're C-Reactive Protein is SUPER LOW! ' (my interpretation of bloodwork) an awesome sex life, supportive as hell husband, and a healthy dose of Zoloft and thyroid, I'm just not OK. Yet. Perimenopause, again. I don't mind the constant fatigue, pain and swellings that come and go as much as I do the dullness of mind. I have been very positive the last year that I could change this, but I'm starting to feel a slump coming on. I'm not sure what I'm missing that my body needs. I've started biodentical progesterone. Hail Mary.
My children, each coming with their own individual worries that keep me awake at night, that settle into my stomach and bones and the constant, endless evaluation of my parenting skills. Am I doing enough? The right thing? Too much of the right thing? What could I be doing that is hurting them? What do they need that I'm not seeing?
The fact that I was in an accident that is going to cost money.
My lack of steady income. Freelancing keeps brimming with possibilities, but in the last few months I've been completely unable physically and mentally to keep up with the pitching I could be doing, (although I've been fine once actually assigned a piece, it's just the fishing that requires a different type of thought and planning) therefore not only am I not making enough money, I feel like shit about it. If I had an out of the home job, I honestly don't know if I'd still HAVE it at this point, with how the last six months have been.
Writing at Romper gave me an unhealthy desire to use GIF's on my blog. I am so sorry.
My ass's refusal to get to Beyonce level heights, and the fact that I am 41 and think about such things. I am vain. I am a vain white woman with a pretty hot ass, but will my brain be happy with that? We know the answer. How can one person think about both her ass shape in comparison to some cultural demigod in the same day she worries about the psychological effects of solitary confinement on the brains of human beings and spends an hour reading through a study of ancient Egyptian burial techniques?
My husband's stress levels. Too high. Hot damn. Police and the fireman. He's been working 60 hour weeks, too.
My upcoming MRI or colonoscopy to see what this thing is that is probably/hopefully/maybe endometriosis related. Fear.
If you are still reading, I am sorry. Not TOO sorry, because you know, free will, man, free will.*
* (bonus points if you name the movie that quote comes from)