A Risk Taken - Rage Bait

Before I dive into todays special I want to say loud and clear, I NEVER use AI for my writing or art. This is purely my wicked thoughts and words that pump out of my noggin.

Grand Rapids, Michigan. November 2025 - DSLR

There are times when it’s alright to complain, to vent your troubles and ailments, and then there is a time to reflect. It could be around the same time, and I feel I had been in that space for a while. I enjoy the times when I don't feel the need to vent and I get to listen to other's woes.

I have crawled, scratched and dragged myself out of the hell hole that was the last five and a half years. I am most certainly on the other side of it. I feel much relief, significantly less pain and the universe has provided me with oh so many lessons that I have mostly passed, I think.

The importance of my venting is not for myself alone but for all people that have gone through what I have so we can bring acute attention to this gargantuan issue and make it known that it is unacceptable and will no longer be tolerated. It will be screeched from the rooftops until you understand.

You could think of just about doing anything and call it a risk, if you have that kind of time and that level of anxiety. I won’t go into the details or give examples, I’m sure you’ve lived long enough to get the point.

Surgery was my risk.

Without question I needed a hysterectomy. Get that fucker out. She had overstayed her welcome.

The doctor wanted me to go on birth control for the heavy bleeding, 9/10 level pain, insomnia, fatigue and brain fog. I said that is not an option and I doubted that it would help.

In order for the OBGYN to take me seriously I had to tell her, "I don't want to live anymore."

And I meant it. She listened that time. Okay NOW we're getting somewhere! But why did it have to come to that in order for me to get the medical attention I so desperately needed for years?!

So when the internet said there is a small risk of going into early menopause after a hysterectomy with ovaries intact, and when my surgeon said that wouldn't happen, I did the math and figured there was a 50/50 chance of my ovaries failing.

I felt so damn lost.

My body and mind were screaming; it was nothing short of living in a hellacious landscape of insanity while walking through purgatory, pretending that everything was fine at work and at home until the symptoms took over. I had to give in and accept that this wasn’t going away.

The severity of the panic attacks and anxiety was at an incomprehensible level. I have lived with it my entire life, I was able to stay off medications and manage it with breathwork, yoga, meditation, healthy eating blah blah blah all the damn things. ADHD was on full blast (I have never been diagnosed with it, though I may have a touch of it), worrying and ruminating was out of hand.

I couldn’t remember ANYTHING.

I couldn't do simple math.

I could hardly SPEAK!!

I forgot how to use a 10 keypad and I work in accounting!!

I had to put in GPS directions to my doctors office that I have been going to for 12 years.

Did you just comprehend what I wrote?! ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING YET?!

I was freaking out and worrying about the stupidest shit that I normally wouldn’t have given a fuck about!

And it was all menopause?!

Thankfully, due to the three female health experts in my life, they figured out that my ovaries are not producing enough estrogen to the point that I went into early menopause.

I had taken several hormone level tests and they were coming up in the "normal" range, but apparently not optimal. It's frustrating and confusing.

Ten months post op, forty years old and here I am, slapping those estradiol patches on my abdomen, estradiol vag cream shot up into my hoohaa and slathering progesterone cream on my lower belly. Testosterone levels are fine, but that will change soon I’m assuming.

I have been researching like my future self depends on it. Did you know that menopause is a neurological event? Not just the sex organs and hormones flailing and declining. It's fascinating!

 How did we let this happen?

As we all know, it’s hard to comprehend what someone is going through unless we go through a version of it ourselves. Which makes perimenopause and menopause near impossible for people with penises to understand.

I have enormous compassion for the women before me, and all those that suffer needlessly. I now understand what they have been trying to express. It's incomprehensible. If there is a hell, menopause is at the core of torture.

What did women do before modern medicine took over? I know we have herbs and supplements, but there has to be some other ancient knowledge from our ancestors that helped with this period in our lives. I cannot imagine myself being able to get through this time without the hormones.

I’m grateful we have more information and data on how bioidentical hormones are not dangerous like we were led to believe and that I was sort of easily prescribed them with low to no copay via an OBGYN from Midi during our virtual appointments.

And now, being in this in-between phase of acceptance and fury, loss and awakening, maiden to crone, desired to unwanted, decline and growth, I feel another level of freedom.

My body and mind are calm. Going from how I felt a few months ago to now, it is a world of difference. It makes me tear up from happiness and gratitude. I want this for all people.

An incomplete list of things doctors have said to me:

"You’re fine."

"What are you doing here? You’re too young to have hearing problems."

"Birth control doesn’t make you gain weight; you’re probably just eating bad and not exercising." (Fun fact, it does!)

"Why do you want to lose weight? You will never be a super model, you’re just vain."

"It’s because you’re a woman."

"You’re struggling with depression because you don’t believe in God."

"Well, you don’t look anemic?" (I ended up having iron deficiency anemia.)

"Maybe try not to eat so many vegetables." (I was eating the recommended amount.)

"Oh so now you’re the doctor, diagnosing yourself?" (When I diagnosed myself properly with lactose intolerance and the gastroenterologist couldn’t figure it out.)

"Hormones don’t really help, it’s normal to have a low libido and dry vagina at your age, and weight gain is probably from not eating properly or exercising enough." (This fuuuuuucking bitch knows how well I take care of my body. I wanted to scream in her face. I fired her.)

"Have you tried meditation?"

"If your mom had bad periods, then it wouldn’t be unusual for you, so it’s normal." (After I asked them if bleeding through tampons and a maxi pad every couple hours and taking 4 ibuprofen every 4 hours did nothing for the pain and that I wanted to pass out from it.)

"Congratulations! You’re not having a heart attack."

"Maybe it’s all in your head."

"I will break you." (Alone, in a room with a male doctor after he harassed me for an hour. I stoically watched his face, gave short answers and didn't play his game. I reported him immediately and he is no longer working at that practice.)

Rage Against The Machine(s).

Containing my newfound rage has been an experiment like no other.

I want to bare my teeth, hiss, growl and charge at those who believe that women are to be subservient, quiet, trad wives.

I want to show them that we are wolves, crouched, cockles raised, teeth bared and ready to pounce.

We will fight for our lives while your weakness grows.

How fucking dare you (western medicine and patriarchal/religion pushers) not prioritize overall health for all peoples (especially black and indigenous women), and only base healthcare on the average (white) male?

They called it “hysteria.”

They said, “women are crazy.”

They created world wide spread of fear with, "she's a witch."

They put us in mental institutions, they sterilized us, removed our clitoris, they lobotomized us, they burned, drowned and hanged us.

They were scared of us.

Because we were transitioning into the most powerful versions of ourselves. They were afraid. Fear lead to gaslighting middle aged women into obedience and silence.

By keeping us in the dark, by not studying the female body, they have essentially kept us in a position of weakness so that they may trample over our lives and have complete control over us.

Oh, fuck that shit. 

We are the version that no longer lusts for a man’s attention, no longer begs to be loved and taken care of.

We peel off the layers of makeup, jewelry and clothing that once attracted a mate.

Our organs are in a panic; everything is out of balance as the sex organs decline and wither. Our minds go a bit squiffy and disorganized as we evolve.

We are no longer viable vessels for man’s insatiable seed.

Undesired, we are useless to them. We are moldy bread, rotting milk, broken glass, weathered roofs, sunken ships, rabid dogs. Culled, no longer worthy of their gaze.

No wonder divorce is so high around mid-life.

Mood swings, low to no libido, painful sex, fatigue, hot flashes, forgetfulness, depression, anxiety, irritability, hair loss, loss of bone density, loss of muscle mass, insomnia and so much more.

It is true unfortunately that men “peak” in their late thirties to late forties and women in their mid-twenties. “Peak” meaning when they’re at the most viable in performance. Men being the providers, women with their ability to create lives.

The slow decay of our hormones can make us look haggard, old, wrinkly and saggy. While men look more distinguished, rugged and attractive.

Women are then unable to carry children in our wombs, we are tossed aside as men look for younger women to procreate with.

You don’t want to hear this, but it is the natural law, it is biological and we are mad at men's nature for looking at younger flesh to press their groin into.

It’s why we obsess over “anti-aging” creams, lip fillers, Botox, plastic surgery, hair dye, nail polish, collagen, supplements, diet and working out. We spend an inordinate amount of our money and time during our entire lives, just so we can look younger for men?!

It causes my stomach to curl. I don’t want to do this forever. I don’t want to look young just so I can have the egotistical satisfaction of being wanted in a sexual fashion.

What if we stopped? What if we lived in peace with our bodies and just accepted the way nature made us? Stop begging for men’s attention and paid attention to each other with soft words of encouragement and love?

I want men in my life. Please don’t misunderstand me. My husband is my best friend. I’ve had great relationships with men before I got married and I would love to have more platonic relationships with men in the future. It seems to be difficult, I’m finding.

My husband says it’s because I’m attractive and married, that's why I haven't made any male friends.

"Straight men typically don’t want to spend time getting to know women unless they think they can fuck them." He says.

I refused to believe this until I started paying attention. I don’t think I’m that attractive, but just this past week I stopped traffic because of a rubber necking man staring at me from his car. Mike gave him quite a look, with his arms crossed. The man noticed his predatory, protective energy and sped off. Mike laughed, I was confused.

Then we went to a distillery, and the male tasting room associate looked me up and down like I was a hanging piece of meat to cut up and devour. I felt extremely uncomfortable, the man had the balls to do it in front of my husband!

What in the actual fuck is going on?!

My heart feels heavy because I want to be seen for who I am, not what my wet hole can do for their ego.

I want to be wanted because my mind is youthful, playful, funny, intelligent, creative, soft, loving and safe.

I don’t need to be wanted in a romantic sense, even if it is a small ego boost. I have met the love of my life, and he satisfies that need.

I want to be genuinely loved for who I am and not for how I could be used.

What else can we do?

My intention with this post is to not blame ALL men, western medicine, faith, religion, politics or the women who have upheld patriarchal views. (But it's most of them, and have we all not held up these societal formalities to some degree?)

But how in the great googly moogly did we get here and NOT study women’s health?!

Oh, I know. You know.

It’s men. We live in a man’s world.

Viagra ready at the first limp dick but women going insane from wacky hormones is not worthy?

Just say it's natural and avoid the responsibility of researching how to make it easier for us.

It’s not about overpowering others or thinking you are better than them. It is standing alongside each other and sharing what we have learned without belittling or shaming.

This is the crone era, and it is fucking awesome so far. I heard it only gets better. I will be shining, glowing and exuding joy from every pore in my body.

Do not cower ladies. Do not give up. I know how frazzled and worried you are. I can see it in your eyes, I can hear it in your cracked voice. I have been lower than low, the lowest you can be and now I am rising fast with no limit in sight because I had people that believed me and listened, and I never gave up. I advocated for myself.

Stand up, fight for your life and link arms with your fellow crones. We can only survive this together. There is no way I would have made it out alive if it wasn’t for the wisdom of educated doctors and scientists and the women who came before me.

Let’s teach the maidens and mothers how to thrive during the transition.

Let’s teach men how to be mentally and emotionally strong and how to support the women in their lives while also learning to love themselves and each other.

We are going to survive this new wave of unbridled capitalism and the last round of patriarchy so that we can rise in power together and lift each other up.

Would you be willing to share your thoughts on what women go through in order to be heard? What is your story? Maybe your wife/partner is struggling right now, what can you tell us that has helped? It seems as though every woman I meet has a horror story or two about being unfairly treated by doctors. Let's hear it! Shoot me a chat message or email and let's commiserate and celebrate each other.

Find out about the terrifying ailments my protagonist goes through in my novel When She Breaks. You may find your story to be quite similar.

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