I’M Perimenopausal. YOU Suck It Up.

My post about perimenopause (quite understandably) inflamed the passions of one of my correspondents, who fired off an email with the subject line “GIRL, i hear you.”

She went on, except she had real "u"s where I have put asterisks:

omg,
same thing here.
mine isn't heavy - but I've started acupuncture just to tame my f*cking rage.
I am a mellow person by nature. Virtually no temper.
until now.
lord have f*cking mercy.
I was pulling out of the parking lot of at work - and had been distracted by a fellow in a wheelchair who kept standing up, etc.
I was looking both ways, and moving fwd, etc.
and these 2 women (pedestrians) step out in front of my car and I stop and wave them on
AND THEN
ONE OF THEM STARTS SWISHING HER F*CKING NECK AROUND AND GIVING ME &$*#!$%#*! ATTITUDE.
girl.
I am so not f*cking kidding you
I saw RED - red red RED!
and I had the strongest impulse to get out of my car and literally grab her by her f*cking swiveling neck and bash her head into the ground.
for real.
omg.
I'm 46 and it's just beginning.
My mom once told me that she asked my 75-year-old (at the time) grandmother when her hot flashes had stopped and my Grammy said: "I'LL LET YOU KNOW"

ohmyf*ckinggod.

ok
that's all
keep breathing

(End of email.)

My favorite part was the “f*cking swiveling neck.” I hope I never see anyone with that type of neck, or all bets are off.

Last Sunday I volunteered at the second occurrence of Sunday Streets, in which a long stretch of the Embarcadero is closed to automobiles so people can ride their bikes and stroll along the waterfront in peace and safety.

I was posted at one end of the Illinois St. bridge, at the north edge of the Bayview district, where I was in charge of making sure cyclists didn’t use the pedestrian path and vice versa. I saw a tiny little boy pedal furiously by on the world’s smallest tricycle. He had on a full helmet, not just a bike helmet, and was wearing a very serious expression. It was about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

In October, I am going to take the League of American Bicyclists’ three-day seminar which, if all goes well, will result in my being an LCI—League Cycling Instructor. While I was volunteering at Sunday Streets, by chance I met one of the people who will be teaching the seminar.

At the end of the retreat I just returned from, Phillip Moffitt encouraged us to have as many mindful moments as possible each day. He pointed out that most of us don’t spend most of our time on retreat, so if we aren’t mindful in our regular lives, when will we be? I’m reading his book Dancing with Life now—signed by the author!—and am getting a lot out of it.

It is often mentioned how the Buddha said “All life is suffering,” though in fact, he never said that at all; he said that suffering exists, meaning getting what we don’t want, not getting what we do want, aging, sickness, and death, among other things, but these aren’t the whole of life.

It’s easy (for me) to think suffering should not exist and that it’s something to try to ignore or push away (because it entails suffering!). Phillip writes, “I sometimes joke with my students that our modern interpretation of suffering is so distorted that for the Buddha to teach the Four Noble Truths today [the first of which is the truth of suffering] he would have to rename them ‘One Crummy Truth and Three Noble Truths’ or ‘The Horrible Truth of Suffering and Three Great Solutions.’” That cracked me up.

I have been trying for years to have as many mindful moments as possible, but was inspired anew by what Phillip said. I think I’ve managed to find plenty of ways to push away the truth of a given moment despite my conscious intention.

Phillip pointed out that one can sneak in a bit of walking meditation even at a harried workplace by making a mindful trip to the office supplies cabinet, and one is always assured of privacy in a bathroom stall.

Since then, I’ve been starting each morning with a few minutes of metta, or loving-kindness practice. I’m using four pretty standard metta phrases, plus three others I particularly like, and am finding it’s working pretty well to say the phrase for myself first—for instance, “May I be happy”—and then for all beings: “May all beings be happy,” after which I think of a handful of people, mixing benefactors, friends and difficult people all together: “Hammett, Carol Joy, [difficult person at work], my mother, my father, [Grilling Neighbor #1], [Grilling Neighbor #2].”

This way some of the friendly feelings it’s easy to feel for Hammett and Carol Joy sort of tide me over while I think of Mr. Rude Email at work, and likewise for my mother and father followed by my grilling neighbors.

The building manager generally ignores me when she sees me in the hallway, but was forced to speak to me when there was water dripping into her apartment. Then she went back to ignoring me. That was annoying (as so many things are): It seems to me that she should either always be civil, or never speak to me at all, but not mix and match as the mood takes her.

But then I thought: Well, why is that? And decided that there’s no particular reason she can’t be inconsistent. It’s out of my control, anyway.

Several days ago she greeted me and asked me to pass something on to Tom. She, like the rest of the world, was having trouble reaching him by phone and email.

A few days later, I saw her out front, and she said hello and, most surprisingly, added, “How are you doing?” I told her I was fine and asked how she was. I don’t want to attribute this to metta practice, but you never know. It also made me glad I hadn’t taken any further action in regard to the grilling, because I’m sure we wouldn’t have had that interaction if I had.

And, last, it made me feel kind of good about always keeping the door open with her. No matter the extent of our conflict, I have always been civil, which means she never has to be afraid I will pretend I don’t see her or hear her.