A Visit from Mary Penopause

At first she was a total stranger.  So why was I flying into bouts of rage whenever she was around? Suddenly everything was wrong, everyone was annoying. Who was putting me constantly on edge? It had to be Mary Penopause.

My husband asked how long this nightmare could go on. When I answered "ten years," his look surpassed dismay and bordered on despair. That’s way too long for any houseguest to stay, let alone one who leaves such misery and turmoil in her wake!

For one thing, she was a kleptomaniac—tip-toeing around the house, taking my things. Where was my phone? My glasses? The car keys? I had no idea. Later I’d find them stashed in illogical places. So she didn’t actually want my stuff, she was just messing with my mind?

And why was she erasing items from my calendar, my to-do-list, and my planner? It didn't matter how many times someone reminded me of a task or an event, this phantom menace deleted it from my brain. What kind of sick pleasure did she gain from watching me struggle to keep all the balls in the air, dropping them with increasing frequency? She wasn’t just a klepto; she was a sociopath.

She started following me around, playing her little mind games. I’d run into friends I hadn’t seen for awhile, and suddenly my evil companion would shout “LALALALALA!”  How could I possibly remember their names with all that racket going on in my head?

And she was so invasive! I’ll never forget that first night when I awoke, certain that someone was holding a space heater against my chest. I was burning up, frantically kicking off the covers, afraid I’d have to dial 911 and report a fire. Then I realized that my night clothes were dripping with sweat. The only thing burning up was me, thanks to Mary Penopause and her space heater. I wanted to wring her neck, but she was nowhere in sight. (Probably hiding just outside the door, still holding the heater and laughing.)

Soon, it wasn’t just at night that she taunted me. It was any time, any place, when she randomly cranked up the heat. What kind of sadist messes with the thermostat in someone else’s house? I’m burning up, while my husband complains it’s too cold.  It feels like 90 degrees to me, yet he’s pulling on a sweater. And then a parka. 

She also took control of my appetite, coercing me to eat vast amounts of sugar and chocolate, while adding equally vast inches to my waistline. My belly was expanding like a lump of bread dough set out to rise.

Because the number on the scale surged upward every morning, I finally set up a nanny cam in the bedroom to see if she was feeding me fats through an IV during the night. She must have army-crawled across the carpet to avoid detection, because the camera never picked anything up — but I know she was involved!

Mary Penopause was wearing me out! All this nonsense from her, and suddenly I was needing naps, slipping into a coma around 3 pm every day.  I was exhausted when I woke up in the morning and fatigued when I went to bed at night. When was this nonsense going to let up?

I did all the usual things to combat her sabotage tactics—eating better, ramping up my exercise, drinking half my weight in ounces of water─but nothing worked the way it used to.

That's when I realized my intruder was making me crazy. Einstein's definition of insanity is "doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results." But Mary Penopause had the opposite effect. I was doing the same thing over and over, expecting the same results (like any normal person would), but she was giving me different results. Every time. Who could predict what would happen next? The rug was being pulled out from under my feet. By the worst visitor ever.

Once I realized she was at fault, it became quite convenient to blame her for all kinds of things. I thought this would make me feel better about myself. But that didn’t work. I didn't need a scapegoat. I needed solutions.

Things turned a corner when I discovered friends who were going through the same thing. Mary Penopause was wreaking havoc in their homes too. One friend had to get up and blow-dry her hair in the middle of the night after Mary Penopause drenched her, dumping a bucket of water over her head in bed! That made me feel better about my own space-heater scenario. Another friend got fired from her job at the local church because she was raging at their members. (Okay, and I almost got myself banned from a doctor’s office for launching missiles at the evil secretary!) Talking and laughing about the weight, the temperature, the brain fuzz and the rage helped a little. And sometimes a lot.

But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter how many of my friends she was visiting. I was stuck with her. —And for heaven knows how long. I decided there was nothing to do but embrace her. Make friends with her, no matter how troublesome and annoying she was. Be ready for whatever she throws at me next. Dress in removable layers and carry lots of water. Buy a cheap paper fan from a flea market and carry that too. Learn sanity-saving relaxation and breathing techniques.  Take naps. Spend half our monthly budget on nutritional supplements. And just say no when she chases me down with her cookies and cakes, urging me to eat not one, not two, but damn near all of them!

If I must have this infuriating guest for the foreseeable future, enough with being miserable! I have to trust these new coping mechanisms. Dare to be myself, despite her presence. Keep things in check, rather than check-mate. Find ways to reward my husband for putting up with her ridiculous antics.  And relish rare moments of Joy.

Yes, Joy. I thought she was on hiatus. But she still pops in every once in a while to remind me that even Mary Penopause can’t keep Joy away forever!

Many thanks to my friend (and UCLA writing instructor) Victoria Zackheim for helping me polish this essay. And kudos to my son Josh who worked magic on the illustration with his photoshop wizarding skills! And extra big thanks to my husband for putting up with me all these years! I love you!