I don’t recognize myself anymore. At least, not as I’ve known myself for the 32 years of my adult life.
As the estrogen drains from my body, for hours every night I lie in bed in the dark, awakened by fever dreams, drenched in sweat, feeling pain deep in my bones. Soon I’ll have to drag myself up into the dawn and act like a normal (that is to say, nonperimenopausal) person — someone who sleeps well and painlessly enough to care about work and breakfast, feeding pets, chit-chatting with my family.
