Welcome to the hormone circus

Welcome to the era of “not the same, same me”—where I walk into a room with purpose and leave with absolutely no idea why I’m there… but somehow holding a snack. Perimenopause has entered the chat, and she did not come quietly. She came with zero sleep, random body aches like I ran a marathon (I didn’t—I barely ran the dishwasher), and a memory so unreliable I don’t trust myself to finish a sentence without buffering. Names? Gone. Words? Optional. Why I opened my phone? A mystery for the ages. And then there’s the mood. Oh, the mood. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m irrationally furious because someone breathed too loud, and five minutes later I’m crying over a commercial about a dog. It’s like living with a tiny, emotionally unstable gremlin inside my body—and spoiler alert: I am the gremlin. Sleep? That’s cute. I wake up at 3am for no reason, wide awake like I have a flight to catch or a life crisis to solve. Instead, I just lay there thinking about everything I’ve ever said since 1997. And the wildest part? I wake up some mornings and genuinely feel like a different person. Same life, same family, same responsibilities—but me? Slightly off. Not broken. Not gone. Just… not the same. So here we are. Figuring it out. Laughing when we can, crying when we need to, and trying not to lose our minds—or our keys—along the way.