I’ve been worrying that I have early-onset dementia because I keep forgetting stuff, but someone told me I probably have perimenopausal “brain fog.”
When I stared at them blankly – in a non-early-onset dementia kinda way – they told me to Google it.
According to the ABC: “‘Brain fog’ is a term not fully understood, but is generally used to describe slow or hazy thinking, difficulty focusing, confusion, lack of concentration, and forgetfulness.”
Apparently during perimenopause, up to 60 per cent of women start reporting memory problems, with some experts blaming it on fluctuating hormones.
Well, my hormones are definitely fluctuating. Especially this week, with the dreaded PMT striking yet again. (I’m blaming my failure to remember to take evening primrose oil on brain fog.)
Fortunately for DD he’s out of the country, on a business trip to Taipei. So he’s being spared my misery … ok, there have been a few text moans … though he did get a little bit rattled by the red dog’s sudden onset on Sunday. I was right as rain one minute, the next it was like I was graveside at a funeral.
There’s no logical explanation for why I feel so unexpectedly bleak, I just do.
I was reading a post by Mummy Haze yesterday about her harrowing depression battle and she expressed the way the negative feelings can grip you really well.
“Some of the messages I hear are that I am not worthy, have no value, everyone would be better without me, I am needy and as such no-one wants to be my friend, I am useless, hopeless daughter, wife, mother and so on.”
That’s how I felt when I made a mistake at work this week. It’s how I felt after lunch yesterday with another blogger, Mum In The Hood, when I wasn’t one bit better informed afterwards about her because I blathered so incessantly about me the whole time.
I am so sorry Mum In The Hood. Can we do it again sometime soon so I can hear your side of the story?
Why can’t I just shut up? Why do I keep talking, talking, talking? Even as I’m doing it, I know I should stop, but I can’t.
I think it’s nerves.
Sometimes life feels a bit like a tap-dancing routine while people watch expressionlessly … waiting for me to perform … and I stuff the whole thing up. That’s not what’s actually going on, it’s just how I feel inside.
And then I beat myself up for hours/days/weeks/years afterwards about how stupid I am.
I wish the brain fog would get work on that part of my memory …
Song of the day: Talk Talk “Talk Talk”