I still haven't found what I'm looking for

 With one chapter closing for me at 42 it was time to find what I had been searching for from the start of this all.
 From the moment the migraines, brain fog, lack of energy and anxiety started I had been looking for something daily. Constantly looking to my left or my right or around me, feeling like something is missing. Even in my worse panic attacks I remember always feeling like if I just had that something it may not have happened.
 It was lost and I didn't know what it was or that it was missing except my memory was saying something wasn't there anymore through a was a strong feeling of loss one that was with me daily from morning to night. It kept nagging at my sub-conscience and telling me I must get the something that makes everything right again.

 My mind was marbles in a jar of wet noodles half the time. I didn't know which way was up and my mood was dependant on other people's energy or the weather.
 I found myself crying over stupid things and this tough girl I had always been that was taught to not hug, kiss or show emotion wasn't able to control one emotion from the next at any time.

 I had to face my deepest insecurities to find my way through the next two years. Letting go of having a baby was easier than the years spent trying to create one. I think the mental toll was indeed too much so walking away was a cakewalk.

  I had to face the fact I was not a very good person to many people in my past and make peace with who I once was and the person I was turning into.
 I had so much pain to digest. Friends I ghosted because I didn't relate to them anymore.
 Faces I once traced in my mind of the men I loved turned to ashes and dust as I didn't even want to remember their names.
 Everyone I had ever loved had turned to memories, some not even good.


 My insecurities had to be faced. What made me obsess in mirrors I hated now. My face didn't shine and I saw this person I didn't recognize often trying to find "her" again. Who was I and what was the point to it all?
 heads up to all the ladies out there. If you already obsess about yourself try not to be so hard on yourself during perimenopause. Perimenopause warps your self-image. I found myself so warped in my mind struggling between youth and growing older that I couldn't stand to look at myself and I was obsessed with mirrors from a young age.
 To look meant to face the facts. To face the facts meant to face the pain. there was so much pain I had to let go of. There were so many layers I had to peel to get to the core of me.
 My least favorite part of this entire process is having to come to terms with so many finals. There would be no baby. There would be no more talks with old friends I had to release for the better of me.
There would be no more visits from the people I loved that had left this earth and there would be no second chances at it all. I had to live with the finals, the decisions and choices I made that hadn't come to full circle until that time at 42.


 It would have to sound crazy to anyone that didn't understand this process but coming to terms with the fact I was in perimenopause made me face every demon I had in my past because I knew facing everything was the only way to heal and change and get through life in a better place. I was no going to continue saying I was cool with being alone. I wasn't. I was terrified. I saw what loneliness did to my parents and the bitterness it breathed into them.
 that wasn't me. I could break the cycle.

 I thought about the friends I had that I took for granted and how I wish I hadn't tried so hard to be pretty and worked more on just being good. Being pretty got me nothing. In the end that face of mine and the starving myself only drifted me further away from close relationships and good people in my life. My secrets were so piled high I didn't even know where to start so I started with me.

 I stopped looking at people with my eyes. They were going bad anyway. I stopped talking to the best friend from HS that was married because it wasn't my issue to find his happiness.
 I stopped thinking about the friends that left me when my son was diagnosed with autism, they were not my friends at all.
 I didn't look in the mirror sometimes except to get dressed. I based my security on my face and my heart. That pimple didn't matter and that wrinkle just didn't mean anything.
 I stopped filling my face with botox and fillers and just let myself see me. It wasn't too bad after all.
 I  went on that basketball date with the ex because I knew I wasn't looking for anything and could control myself. I was trying to find me not other people.

 The next two years would mold my life and change the way I saw the world. I always felt like I was in a movie. looking at the world having a great time and feeling like I wasn't impressed enough. That wasn't depression I just was not excited about the things most people were. I wanted to see bigger things and see what was around the corner. I had to learn to appreciate the moments that were big to others and not so impressive to me because that's what life is about.

 For so long I was angry and I couldn't let go of the toxic relationships I had to go through, I couldn't move past the fact I was always jaded.
 I had to figure out it was me who wouldn't look at the people that were always there and appreciate the fact I was lucky to have those few people.
 Cutting loose so many in the last two years was my way of moving forward. Those friends that didn't have time for me when I needed them were not good or healthy for my life. They were the past. I had to let go.

 Social media was a window for the old friends to still feel they were connected to this person I am today and it wasn't the case. Those people rather they ever even knew the real me had walked away years ago and didn't deserve a front seat window to my world anymore.

 I reflected on the men I had known and what I thought was so important to me in a man and I realized how stupid and immature I was. Who was I to think I was some prize when now I looked at people and saw how ugly they were inside. I was fighting to be a part of those ugly self-centered people's worlds all because of how they looked.

 Old photos I held onto that I convinced myself were memories were put in a box. They no longer controlled my thoughts. I found photos to haunt my head so for me I reflected on the moments I spent not the photos taken and I threw those boxes away. They weren't physically attached to my life anymore. These people were just those people that I didn't know for the last 5 to 20 years. It was creepier for me to hold onto faces and images than to just reflect. So, I let them go. And I was freer.

 Mostly I thought about the few people that stuck around. I had a handful of people that loved me and after removing all the fluff I was able to look at each of those relationships to decide what I loved about them and how they have stood the test of time.

 I spent the next two years practicing meditation and how to control wanting to hit a mutherfucker every time my temper went off.
 I learned to look at people through my heart by listening to words not studying faces. I found those faces became quite beautiful when I opened more than just my eyes.
 I let go of insecurities and hatred I was given in my youth by my parents and I separated myself from their actions as I was not a reflection of them.

 I forgave even the hardest people that harmed me, hurt me or abused me. I took half of the responsibility for allowing some of the actions I did and it made me a stronger person.

 Mostly I vowed to cherish the ones that had stuck through and loved me no matter how unperfect I had been and I centered my attention on them. Those energies made me who I was turning into. They were the handful of people that remained after a mental dump of friend baggage. They were the most important people that remained.
 Through the joys and pains in the process of entering/discovering perimenopause, I was able to appreciate the strong woman that was coming through. She was shifting into someone that was ok with taking time for herself. She had given so much up already and now was her time to live.

   I still haven't found what I was looking for even back on that day I had the panic attack with officer Jason.
 The feeling of missing something but not knowing what or where it is. It is the strangest feeling is to know you are without something yet still feeling like you have everything but like your empty without whatever it is.
I was content, at least... I thought.

  It would be another 2 years of perimenopause ahead with no proper diagnosis and that something, well it was definitely something and I would find out one day very soon just what it was.