Health by Heidi

  1:00 am.  Like clockwork.  My eyes pop open.  Ugh.  Not again.  I sigh, roll over, knowing it is more than likely pointless to try and go back to sleep. I am in the throes of perimenopause, and the sleepless phase has descended upon me with all the fury of an avalanche.  Sleeplessness makes everything more challenging.  I read about the symptoms of perimenopause, the short temper, heightened emotions, rage, brain fog, forgetting words mid-sentence, forgetting why I walked into the room, weight gain, the list is seemingly endless.  I truly believe it all stems from not sleeping.   If you have not had the pleasure, or are not able to experience the pleasure, of the sleeplessness that comes with perimenopause, let me paint a picture for you. Night comes, and its bedtime.  You collapse, exhausted to your very core, into bed.  You think, I am so tired.  I have no choice but to sleep well tonight.  I WILL sleep well ...

  One year.  It feels like yesterday and ten years at the same time.  One year since my world imploded.  August 2, the day that everything changed.  The day that changed everything.  The day my husband woke up dead.  Earlier this summer, Lisa and I signed up for a gravel bike race on the one-year day, the Death Day as Lisa calls it.  August 2.  I had signed up for it last year, but things happened.   I spent this summer training on my gravel bike.  It felt good to do something different, to explore new roads and see new things.  I had spent so many summers before this one on my road bike, starting and ending at my mom's house in Hamilton.  After my rides, my mom and I would eat lunch together and visit.  My mom is now in a memory care facility in Bozeman, so no more long Saturday road rides from her house.  Thinking of doing long road rides in Hamilton without my mom there makes me sad, so the gravel riding ...

  Well, it's official.  The judge deemed it acceptable that I return to my birth-given last name of Graham.  Yes, I had to go to court.  Yes, I had to appear before a judge.  Shannon and I, along with my attorney (yes, I had an attorney), arrived at the courthouse at the required time.  We entered the courtroom and sat down.  There were four cases before mine.  The first two were attorneys closing estates, and both went quickly.  Two divorces came next, both contentious, one involving a life sentence in prison.  Then it was my turn.  My attorney and I walked to the front of the courtroom and sat down at a table.  This is how it went: "I have the paperwork for the name change, Your Honor," my attorney said as he stood up and walked to the bench, handing the judge the papers.  He then returned to our table and looked at me.  "Are you changing your name to avoid debt?" "No," I replied.   The judge cleared her t...

  "I'm so tired of being sad," I said dully, noticing that I was crying but not having the energy to care.  I was sitting on the couch in my therapist's office, staring at the wall. "What are you sad about?  What feels the biggest right now?" my therapist asked softly. I continued to stare at the wall.  Talking felt like too much.  I felt empty.  I sat quietly for a few moments, working up the strength to find words.  Finally, I took a breath.  "I feel sad about my mom.  I don't know why it's coming up so much now, but there it is," I said flatly.  I shifted my gaze to my therapist.  "I don't have the energy to grieve another thing." My therapist nodded.  "Our brains can only process so much.  You've been in triage for months, dealing with the most important thing at the time..."  She continued to talk, but my mind drifted. I thought back to June of last year, when we got the diagnosis that my mom had dementia.  ...

  I just broke down crying in the car on the way to Hamilton.  That hasn't happened in a while. I pushed "Send" and my text whooshed off to Denise and Lisa.  They both replied almost immediately with a similar version of the same question:  Why?  Did something happen or is it just everything? Life.  Life happened.  Shannon and I were just in Oregon for two weeks.  We attended his son, Clayton's, celebration of life and started tearing down the crushed remains of the house where Clayton had lived.  Shannon had lived with both of his sons in that same house for several years.  Lots of memories covered in soggy insulation, moldy drywall, and tree branches.  A house full of mementos now smashed to bits and loaded into 40-yard dumpsters.   We came home to Montana just in time for Shannon to fly back to Oregon for work.  There was no time to decompress, to settle, to process.  We jumped right back into life and charged...

  This past Saturday, we attended the celebration of life for Shannon's son, Clayton.   "How did it go?" I don't know how to answer that question.  I don't know why it's called a "celebration of life."  No one was celebrating.  Most people were crying.  I think "remembrance of life" would be a more accurate description.  The ceremony was nice, if nice is the correct word to use.  Clayton's uncle was in charge of running the show, and did a good job keeping things moving.  A few family members shared stories about Clayton.  There was a lovely slideshow featuring photos of Clayton from baby to adulthood.  The weather was warm and sunny when we arrived.  As family members shared stories, clouds rolled in and the wind picked up.  Just as the slideshow began, fat raindrops started to split-splat on the tents and the heads of those of us not under the tents.  The rain intensified during the fifteen-minute slideshow, an...