Category: show and tell

I’m All Out of Vices

A Tale of Involuntary Clean Living



Photo by Edward Howell on Unsplash

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February of 2020 proved to be the convergence of a lot of change. The big one we all know. That one is still impacting our lives over three years later.

But little did I know that would also be the final act of my monthly cycle. Yep, February 2020 was the official start of my menopause. Since menopause is defined by going a full year without a period, I could only know that February 2020 was the last one twelve months later. Had I known I might have lit a candle. Baked a cake. Held a Bon Voyage party.

What I also didn’t know in February 2020 was that it would be the last time my hairdresser and dear friend would put color in my hair. I began growing out my gray roots in those strange COVID times and just kept going. I’m still not sure I embrace my gray, but it’s mine.

Turns out February 2020 was a significant inflection point for the world and for me.

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My monthly cycles had always been at best uneasy and at worst downright awful. They were so regular I could set a watch by them, but in my early twenties I was diagnosed with mittleschmerz which is just a German way of saying ‘middle pain.’

This meant very painful ovulations in the middle of each cycle. This pain would last my entire adult life. Bonus? I always knew when I was ovulating. Downside? Every time I ovulated it made me hurt so bad I wanted to throw up.

In my thirties, I was also diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysmorphic Disorder, or PMDD. To call it a severe form of PMS is to call a tornado a severe form of wind. The PMDD was a 28-day mental, physical, and emotional roller coaster ride where I felt good for about four to five of those days.

I remember back then thinking how menopause was going to be great. I couldn’t wait to get rid of these awful monthly cycles of agony. Not having periods meant no more pain and the end of the hormonal nightmare, right? It’s cute that I thought having no period would be a cakewalk.

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My hormones had so many more surprises in store. With the change came incredible joint pain. Overwhelming fatigue. Brain fog so bad at times I am still certain I have early-onset dementia despite being assured by my medical team that all is well.

I have read and researched and looked for help and I have found many women telling me “It doesn’t have to be so bad.”

Well, yes and no.

Traditional medicine doesn’t have a lot to say. My regular doctor sent me to a menopause specialist who gave me antidepressants for the hot flashes that I told her I only rarely had. She had little to say about the fatigue and memory issues and sent me away saying, “I hear yoga helps?”

Next, I tried a naturopath who did really listen and offered quite a lot of help. Within six months, my situation considerably improved. I was starting to feel better, and as the fog and pain eased, it became clear to me that in my fifties, it was finally time for me to do a much better job of taking care of myself. Something I had ignored for quite some time.

So, back to the regular doctor. “I actually want to exercise,” I told her, and I meant it. I began to eat better. I finally admitted that my lactose intolerance wasn’t something I could pretend I didn’t have.

Also, I grudgingly acknowledged that every time I ate bread products that I craved so much and my stomach bloated up and hurt that maybe, just maybe, I needed to stop ignoring that too.

I ate more vegetables. I vastly reduced the amount of sugar I consumed even though sugar and sugary food is my comfort. And then, something happened that I never could have imagined.

I stopped drinking.

I have never been a big drinker, but boy did I love a couple of glasses of red wine or maybe some bourbon at the end of the week. In menopause, how my body metabolized alcohol changed and I had to stop drinking just to see if it made me feel better, and it did.

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So here I am, still working on myself.

I’ve never been a fan of tobacco and nicotine. I’ve tried multiple forms of pot and didn’t like it. Anything harder than that is off the table. I don’t drink. I don’t eat wheat. I rarely eat cheese. I eat sugar but in far smaller amounts. I once had a thing for binge shopping but even that isn’t interesting anymore.

These days I find myself, curiously, without vices. Me, the person who chased all kinds of vices and comforts and mind-numbing agents for the first fifty years of my life.

This is so unexpected.

I often ask myself, “what will I do when I have that really bad day and I want to sink into something that will dull my mind?” And honestly, I don’t know anymore. Yeah, okay, I can get out a pint of oat milk ice cream but come on, the decadence factor just isn’t there.

What do I use to celebrate big news? Non-alcoholic spirits seem to be having a moment. I did try the Seedlip brand, and while tasty, it’s just never going to be that same warm numb feeling as pouring a glass of amber liquor.

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This isn’t a complaint, I guess. I feel better than I have in years. Someone commented recently that my face has changed. I haven’t lost any weight, but I think I am less puffy. Less inflamed.

Less inflammation means less joint pain. Less joint pain makes me rather content.

I have always been the type to seek food and drink and other mild to moderately addictive behavior as a way to comfort the aches and pains of everyday life. The past three years of my life have been filled with change and loss and grief.

So now, during what is arguably the most painful time of my life, no one is more surprised than me to find I no longer want to find ways to forget but rather I seek ways to stay present. To feel what I feel and figure out how to cope with that.

Huh. I’m evolving. It’s the weirdest (and most beautiful) damn thing. Who knew menopause would make me a better person?

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This post was originally published on Medium and more of my work can be found over there @karenfayeth.

Wait, what?



Wait, what? I have a story published in Chicken Soup for the Soul? Yessss!!!
 
Chicken Soup for the Soul: Lessons Learned from My Cat, in stores tomorrow, February 14, 2023



That’s me! Page 191!! “Status Report” is about trying to put a cat on a diet. Lesson Learned? Don’t.


I’ve learned plenty from Dahlia, who was adopted on this day, eight years ago (when she was 4 years old). Each year I give thanks Berkeley Humane for taking care of our girl until we could find her. Royalties from every copy of Chicken Soup for The Soul: Lessons Learned from My Cat go to American-Humane, the country’s first national humane organization.


Uh oh, Dahlia just realized the story isn’t about her. It’s about Gypsy our lovely, naughty, food loving cat who looked a whole lot like the cat on the cover of the book. We miss her, she was a great cat.

Still Life with Acorn


a small bunch of oak leaves and acorns

Acorn from the neighbor’s tree, ©2022 Karen Fayeth

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It’s one of those Bay Area days where the so-called Marine Layer is in and it’s clinging to the treetops. Not quite fog, not quite overcast. Just dark gray and low, kind of like my mood.

I’ve no reason to be glum, but I have to admit on an overcast day, it’s kind of hard to be chipper. There are certain people who get energy from the gray skies. As a sun loving New Mexican, that ain’t me.

But overcast skies do make for lovely photography. Thanks to the generous overhang of our neighbor’s oak tree, we have a plethora of acorns littering our yard. They plink off the eaves and bounce heavily on the rooftop. Our local squirrels are shoving them in every corner and crevice and I swear we’re going to have an explosion of oak trees in our yard next year.

I do enjoy the squirrelly surreptitious dig-dig-dig, bury, pat-pat-pat, look around to be sure the pesky crows and scrub jays didn’t see, dash off routine happening outside my office window right now.

I went outside to clear my head a bit and found the lovely little still life you see at the top of this post. Easy snap, full of a feeling of memory and thoughts. Now that matches my mood.

Autumn really is a nice time of year, and Halloween is soon enough. Hey, that gives me an idea. maybe I need a big bowl of candy? That will surely help my mood. For a minute or two, anyway…

Words in Motion

Photo by Corey Agopian on Unsplash

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I am incredibly excited to announce that my story, “Swim, Swam, Swan” was selected by a group of esteemed judges as part of the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) first ever writing contest called BART Lines. The writing contest coincided with BART’s 50th Anniversary celebrations.

The winning stories are made available on Short Edition short story dispensers found in some of the many BART stations around the Bay Area and on the Short Edition website. The Short Edition team also pushed my story out to their machines worldwide. Riders can hit a button and have a story dispensed on a long strip of paper, much akin to a CVS receipt, but instead of listing soap and toothpaste, you get my story!

With a theme of motion, the judges were notable Bay Area authors Annalee Newitz, Ishmael Reed, Ingrid Rojas Contreras, JK Fowler, and Daniel Handler.

My story can also be found on the Short Edition website, here’s the link.

Love My Links

A collection of my most recent stories, in easy clicky format.

Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash

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These days I am doing most of my writing over on Medium. For a little while I was also publishing the individual stories here on the ol’ blog, but to be honest this blog isn’t aging well. I’ve been hacked more times than I can count and WordPress has made changes to how editing works and sometimes its a bit more than I can handle.

I know, I  know, I need to just hire someone to revamp the whole site, I really do. But until then, I wanted to share the links to my most recent writing over on Medium. These are all friend links so you should be able to read without a pesky firewall getting in your way.

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Smoke Covers Fire – an essay contemplating a morning swim under skies blotted out by smoke from recent California wildfires

 

Prince Charming with a Handicap – My response to the prompt: prosthetic eye. I got a little weird on this one and had a lot of fun. It ended up being an editors pick for The Hinged publication which made me very proud.

 

A Writer Looks at Ted Lasso – Hardly groundbreaking to love this incredibly popular show, but for me, the writing is everything and the Ted Lasso writers do it well.

 

The Heart of Our Home – The prompt was: hinge, and I really like this story. Though I must confess I wrestled to get it out and onto the page. The words fought me a little. It happens. In the end, I’m very happy with the results. This one was also published in The Hinged.

 

Make Hay While the Sun Shines – The prompt was: harvest season and I wrote this for the Lit Up publication. Now this story told itself, one of those incredibly satisfying experiences when words flow like water. This one might be based on some things that happened back in my college days at NMSU, and I just love how it turned out.

 

My Grapes are Sour and Difficult to Digest – I’m pretty good at dealing with my writing being rejected, but a recent rejection stuck in my craw and I had to write my sour grapes.

 

Better Than The Original – My first story for The Riff publication and it’s a fun one. Based off of the question I saw on Twitter “What’s a song you fell in love with, not because of the original, but the cover version?” I pick three but there are plenty more. The commenters added a few of their own, too.

 

You’re Gonna Miss Me, Little Baby – An ode to the late, great San Francisco blues legend, Johnny Nitro, on what would have been his 70th birthday. This one also found a home with The Riff.

 

If you like what you’re reading on Medium and would like to sign up, I’d be much obliged if you would do using my referral link. I get a little kickback if you do, and thanks!