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Like some deranged hormone-fueled TSA K9 on high alert for invisible threats.

Like the universe woke up and chose mild, but relentless.

Time is the ultimate hustler.

A personal call to action for research, medical awareness, and compassion.

Teenagers are tiny emotional landmines wearing hoodies and carrying phones they refuse to answer. Mom Auto-Responder™ to the rescue.

When your to-do list reads like a cry for help.

Menopause, motherhood, and midlife all have this charming habit of shoving your fears right up in your face before you’ve had coffee.

The never-ending high-pitched scream of my demise.

Less "joy ride", more "demolition derby".

The un-anticipated, poorly scripted sequel.

We're not overreacting. We're overheating and tired of being dismissed.

Why stand when you can slay in a seated position?

Menopausal fashion - aka: Travel Wear.

Midlife limbo.

It’s not that I can’t eat the foods I love. It’s that I shouldn’t. But I'm stubborn.

To all the random objects that have taken the brunt of my menopausal meltdown tour. Thanks for absorbing my unhinged monologues.

I’m not hard to get. I’m just hard to impress, hard to schedule, and mentally exhausted from decades of dating dysfunction.

There is no dignity in trying to MacGyver a pad out of a crumpled receipt.

The before times.

Another day of functioning. Barely. Heroically. Hormonally.