Are you ok?

 I started looking up information about multiple, prolonged periods. Over the last 3 months I seem to be having them 2 weeks apart, they are heavy, painful, and they each last about 2 weeks. That's a lot of time spent bleeding. Of course the information is scant and nebulous. There is not much out there that is of help - it could be anything from early onset menopause to stress. I hate the stress explanation. It is like the junk drawer of medical explanations. Anything you can't figure out can be quickly brushed off as stress, and you are pushed out the door. It's a little too close to the "hysteria" diagnosis that women used to get for anything and everything. It halts the conversation without further investigation or resolution, and puts the onerous on the person seeking help. It's just stress. That's your problem. Fix your life. I don't know. Maybe it's true in this case. 

I've been crying more lately, which is probably a good thing. However, it comes with a flood of thoughts that are probably not healthy. As I was looking through the list of possible explanations for my frequent, heavy periods, I clicked on menopause. If I'm anything like my mother, I have 25 years of hot flashes and all manner of other symptoms to look forward to. It turns out at 42, I'm not that far away from when this thing usually starts. As I was reading I was overcome by an incredible sadness. It felt like I was getting a preview of the end of something I was supposed to experience but never really did. It wasn't just that I'm terrified of menopause after seeing how awful it was for my mother, I was crying for the loss of my entire unrealized sexuality. There, I said it. I feel like I really do have the capacity for loving, real, intimacy that I have never been able to express. Either I have been too traumatized (there, I said that too!), did not feel safe enough, or when I did start to wake up  and feel safe and whole the door was slammed in my face. I feel ugly and useless. I don't know if a real, whole relationship is within reach for me, ever. It's too painful to believe this is possible. I feel like I'm watching it slip away and only beginning to mourn it's loss. I don't even know how to mourn it's loss. I feel heartbroken and bewildered. And then the words that I try to keep at bay come to me; "I want to die, I want to die, I want to die." I thought I was past that. I thought I wouldn't be visited by this idea anymore. 

Then I tell myself to stop wallowing in self-pity and get back to work. It's 6:30, I've been up since 4, and I should have had a lot more done by now. Plenty of people feel unloved by those who say they love them. They deal with it. They get by. I need to just get by. I don't want to.