Today I saw my friend Jenna for tea.
Jenna lives around the corner from me, which, in principle, is fun. It’s nice to have a friend who lives close by, as it means you can pop in and pop out. Plus it reminds me of when I was young as I popped a lot in my youth.
Jenna is small, perfectly pretty and very kind and knows how to be a good friend. We talk about a lot about things, Jenna and I, and today we talked about the menopause.
And she opened her heart.
She told me that she had been quietly celebrating the fact that she was symptom-free, when she fell into a deep black hole.
It had caught her off guard.
It was depression and it enveloped her.
Her oestrogen was low and so was she.
Jenna talked about how awful it was for her. And about feeling small and fragile.
She talked about her lack of energy and zest for life. And how dark her world had become.
She talked about her lack of joy and purpose. And how lonely she was.
And she talked of the impact on her family, how much she loved them and the guilt that she had.
And she talked… and talked … until she could talk no more.
It was a devastating time for Jenna.
I was heartbroken for her and could not bear for someone so small, pretty and kind to struggle in that way.
Or anyone at all.
And I wanted to cry.
And so did she.
We cried together, Jenna and I.
And then we hugged and carried on with our tea.
J x
(Shared from my old diaries)
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