Hormones: a cash cow

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I find it ridiculously amusing that "Hormones" is the topic of this week's Wicked Wednesday prompt, considering the trouble I've had with this particular issue for the past 7-8 years (mental helath and libido).

Hormones, or the possibility of unstable hormones, have pretty much affected everything having to do with my physical, mental, and emotional health. I've gained 30 lbs. (okay...some of that is just my laziness and my love of good beer), my energy levels are all over the place...my moods...my libido. And it's all supposedly (or probably...or possibly) tied to hormones, according to my doctors.

Late last year, I went to a naturopath (because I wanted a "natural" way to deal with my symptoms). I began using natural progesterone cream, to see if that would help. It didn't, really. So my doctor added bio-identical estrogen cream. Then testosterone cream. I've had all my levels checked, and oddly they all show as fine.

So is it all in my head? Maybe I'm not a hormonal wreck, but a mental one instead? That's a great thought, isn't it? I'm not hormonal, just crazy.

And you know...I'd take crazy if it came with horny, because that would work out for my marriage. Instead, it comes with depression, which makes me lethargic and lazy and fat...and does nothing for my marriage but cause stress...and I need more of that like I need a hole in the head. Or, it comes with manic episodes which won't let me sleep and make me irritable, agitated, and forgetful. Good times. Anxiety is the spice of life.

Hormones have ultimately just not been my friend. And hormone-related complications are hard to diagnose. Because perimenopause can cause all of my current symptoms, and because all of my symptoms can be hard to diagnose and attribute to a cause, it's hard to counteract them all.

Basically, what it comes down to is, if I don't want to be on a hundred medications, I just need to eat healthy, exercise daily, practice yoga and mindfulness, get acupuncture, drink less, develop a sleep routine, and keep seeing a shrink. Sounds easy, I know. And for some people, it might be. I wish I were one of those people.

I could probably do without all the meds, honestly, but now that I am on them, all my docs are reticent to take me off of them. Western medicine does love its prescriptions. I've managed to get the dosages down. As for the hormone supplements, those are complicated. While using them may be beneficial, especially if you really are low in one or more of them, using them also presents a host of fun side effects: weight gain, oily skin/hair, acne, hair growth (in odd places), aggression and irritability (yay...cause I need more of that), fatigue...and on and on. Seriously, it's a case of the side effects being worse than the disease. (A decent book on hormones and their functions is The Hormone Cure. It was suggested by my naturopath, because he refused to prescribe anything until I was educated on the issues...smart guy.)

I feel sort of like I started getting old at 30...because my body has seriously railed against me from childbirth on. Aren't we supposed to be friends, or something like that? Isn't my body supposed to be my temple? Because really, it feels like a war-zone...me against it, and it usually has the upper hand.

What I've found over the years, too, is that issues having to do with hormones and mental and emotional health (even physical health, actually), have provided the opportunity for a booming business in books, programs, supplements, and medications. And there are sooooo many "answers," it's hard to know which to try, if any. I've read my share of books, spent hundreds on supplements and medications, and have found myself choosing the more natural paths, because...hell, they do less damage even if they help less...and mostly I see them helping more.

My biggest issue for the natural methods of mental, emotional, and physical healing is the time it takes. And actually...the money, as well. Yoga is expensive because it's trendy now...and because those little yoga studios have to make a living, right? The time, though is trying to fit in yoga, along with regular work outs. If I were doing what I am supposed to do, I'd be working out/doing yoga 1-2 hours per day...add showering and such to that...twice...and now I'm at 2-3 hours. But, I work full time. So now I've used around 11 hours working and working out. And I have a child and family. And...well...I HATE working out!

As far as I can tell, however, exercise and diet are the keys. The two things many of us really don't want to accept. Why can't there be a magic pill? Instead of all that hard work and time? It'd be one thing if I liked exercise...and believe me, I've tried all kinds - I'm just not a "physical" person. I'd rather sit on a couch and read a book.

Speaking of that...I'm off to run from zombies (see, they were sneaky and sucked me in with STORY). One of the ONLY...besides yoga...physical exercises I like to do. And later...I'm off to see my shrink to discuss my "thought distortions."

You know, I'm starting to come to the realization that the Western World wants us all to be mental, emotional, and physical wrecks so it can capitalize on our suffering and keep us feeling "broken" so we'll keep seeking ways to fix ourselves by adding to the gross national product. And blaming hormones is perfect...because it's so hard to pinpoint the cause...and so easy to spend time and money on a "treatment."

Here's a complimentary set of blog posts of you're interested: an on-going review of Sex Again: Recharging Your Libido (covers issues regarding hormones but really pushes to counteract them with natural methods).

Sexually disabled? disordered? dysfunctional?

dis-1

• Word Origin

1.

a Latin prefix meaning “apart,” “asunder,” “away,” “utterly,” or having a privative, negative, or reversing force (see de-, un-2.); used freely,especially with these latter senses, as an English formative:

disability; disaffirm; disbar; disbelief; discontent; dishearten; dislike;disown.

(source: Dictionary.com)

*****

dis

informal

verb

1. 1.

   speak disrespectfully to or criticize.

   "I don't like her dissing my friends"

noun

1. 1.

   disrespectful talk.

   "the airwaves bristle with the sexual dis of shock jocks"

(Source: Google Dictionary)

*****

dis

Referring to the city of Dis, from Dante's levels of hell. The city of Dis is the level of hell to which all non-believers, who have not otherwise sinned greatly, will go. The city is surrounded by a field containing countless numbers of burning coffins, in which the heretics lie, screaming. Limbs from non-believers are scattered around the plains, and the city itself is surrounded by thick iron walls.

(source: Urban Dictionary)

*****

Indeed, having any type of sexual "dys" function or "dis" order or "dis" ability can feel like being "dissed" (is that even how you spell it?) by your own body, and taking a solo vacation in the city of Dis. You fall outside of society's norms. You don't fit. You are given a label. Not an excuse, mind you. No one gets one of those...unless, of course, you are disabled in other, more acceptable ways. You know, the kind you can't do anything about...like maybe mental retardation (yes...I know there are more politically correct ways to say that now...more positive, inclusive ways - like "mentally challenged"), or you no longer have the use of your limbs ("differently-abled"), or you are dumb (not stupid..."mute!"). For those with sexual "issues," we face labels like "impotent," "hormonal," "frigid," "cold," "broken," "abnormal." Sex research has come a long way since Freud and  Kinsey...but because sex comes in so many forms and variations, is born of so many influences and motivations, and leads to so many experiences, emotions...so much confusion and misinterpretation, it still eludes much of the human race, including the doctors. 

We know the biological function of sex. Put peg A in slot B and voila!: baby. 

If no baby...well...peg A or slot B is broken. Impotent? A man is no longer a "man" by much of society's standards when slapped with this label. Barren? What did she do for God to smite her so? Whore. Now she'll be a spinster. Maybe an old maid. Or just a disappointment to herself and the man that is now stuck with this poor, sad woman. Or he'll divorce her and find a nice lady who can bare him many sons. Or they'll adopt beautiful Ethiopian children and she'll smother them with affection to bury her guilt and insecurity.

Yah, we're more progressive than that. Aren't we? Or are we? I'm not so sure. I hear the jokes. The comments said in "jest." 

Even worse than a man or a woman who has a medically proven reason for their label is a man or woman whose sexual "dysfunction" or "disorder" or "disability" is hormonal or, worse yet, mental or emotional. 

Now, not only is the poor sap or unfortunate dame "broken," he or she is also likely sporting an ailment that is "all in his or her head." 

Bring on The Yellow Wallpaper.

They used to call it hysteria...covered pretty much all the bases when doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with a woman.

Then, they decided you just needed the sea air, and sent you to the coast for the summer.

And now, since it's a booming business, they send you to specialists, counselors, therapists, and give you medications for all sort of things (because they really don't know the cause). 

We've really made little actual progress in the world of sexual dysfunction. Oh sure...there's Viagra...and there are hundreds of supplements that claim to "boost your libido," thousands of self-help books, and mental health professionals have made careers out of our suffering. Honestly, I'm sure the majority of them mean well. Not the drug companies, mind you...but the professionals and the doctors. 

It's hard, though. For them...and for US...to make heads or tails of it. It's hard not to look at ourselves as broken. It's hard to trust the Ups when you constantly fear the Downs. 

It's hard not to feel "apart," "asunder," "away," or "utterly" lost.

Luckily, I'm on an Up right now. But, I never know what is waiting for me around the next corner. I live daily with the fear that, at any moment, for no reason that anyone I know can provide, I may just stop wanting sex. 

Depressed. Bi-polar. Crazy. 

Doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists. Wellbutrin. Lithium. Estrogen. Progesterone. Testosterone. Tests. Tests. Labs. Tests. $$$$.

Yoga. Mindfulness. Concentrate. Relax. If you weren't so stressed. So OCD. So ADD. So high-strung. So type-A. Such a control freak.

Counseling. Mindfulness training. Just focus! Relax. De-stress. Go on a vacation. Figure out your "attachment issues." Questions about my childhood. What am I hiding? What am I afraid of? Dig deeper. Find the answer. It's in there somewhere!!!! 

Apparently, if I could just look far enough inside myself, I could cure my own dis-ease.

They make it sound so easy.

Ultimately, the message is that something is wrong with us. Somehow, we aren't "right," which makes us, necessarily, "wrong." We must be "fixed." Because we are "broken." 

It's a frustrating place to be. 

What we are told we should be by society:

What we are often facing...as a society:

What we should be experiencing:

And...since I'll be experiencing none of these for the night (Daddy's still off in a warmer clime...enjoying the wind in his hair and the sun on his helmet's visor...)...I'll head off to bed, peaceful, for the time being, in the knowledge that, for now, I wish he were here so I could fuck him. Or...so he could fuck me. Or...well...whatever way it would happen - we'd be fucking right now. 

So, there.

(Pouty face.)

When your libido takes a vacation...how do you convince it to come back?

So, I've been having some difficulty with my mood and libido recently.  To some degree, I'm tired (been doing a lot at work -- juggling a lot of balls, and not the kind I like) - mentally and physically.  And to some degree, I know that I cycle with the moon (waxing...bring it on; waning...leave me alone).  And there seems to be something about January and February that get in the way of things, too.  With all that stacked against me, I'm left with a whole lotta work and productivity, but not a lot of pride in what I've accomplished.  Sometimes, it's hard to get psyched up when the mountain seems insurmountable...even when I am at the top.

I think I need a massage.  And I need to get to the acupuncturist.  And I need to go to bed on time.

And, while we are at it, could someone send me two tickets to a beautiful tropical island where I can forget all my obligations?

Anyhow, what does all this have to do with pride - today's Wicked Wednesday prompt?  Well, I guess I feel that I should be proud of myself.  I forget that sometimes and give in to the doom and gloom that is "you can always do better...if you'd only..." and comparing my success to others, only to be even more critical of my accomplishments.

I'm a working mother.  My kid is decently behaved and does well in school, the house is pretty nice and acceptably clean most days, the bills get paid, and I have achieved a position of regard in my career.

My marriage is solid...enviable even.  Our sex life is great (accept for when I go into the black hole).

That should be enough, right?  And really, it is.  I think I'm just too hard on myself, and I need to remind myself on a daily basis that I'm not a complete disappointment. It's this weird need I have to make others happy and comfortable and proud.

Guess, I need to include myself in that.

So...today, not a creative post.  More of a gripe - and an exploration of a problem.  Because when I get like this, it's hard to snap out of it.  And it affects everything in my life - my relationships at home and work, my sex drive, my ability to focus and accomplish things, my motivation to think and write about sex...

And once I'm off the sex wagon...well, let's just say things seem to crumble fast.  Mr. LL gets moody (and who can blame him, right?)...and then we have to discuss the problem...which makes me moody(er).  And the adult in me takes a vacation, leaving a pouty little child in her place who thinks everyone is blaming her for the state of things.

So...getting back ON the sex wagon.  That's the thing, isn't it?

Vitamin D, medication, exercise, diet...cripes- I even stopped drinking...I've got all those in the bag.  So, what else?  What have I not tried?  Because I've got to nip this thing in the bud before it spirals.  What is it, really, that stabs my libido in the back and then runs away like a little coward before I can turn around and catch it in the act?  I can speculate all day - best to not overthink it, I know...just makes it worse, cause then I feel guilty.

Suggestions?  I pride myself on a healthy sex life.  And we all no good sex decreases stress...so what to do when stress makes you not want the sex that will make the stress go away.  Quite a conundrum.

Be sure to check out the other Wicked Wednesday posts...