I will be the first to admit that I’m addicted to social media. I know it is bad for me. I’ve almost given it up (or tried) numerous times, but then I discover an account that speaks to me, entertains me, and perhaps, even makes my life better. Enter Melani, founder of the We Do Not Care Club. She is brilliant.
I was scrolling through Facebook when one of her Reels popped up. Something led me to watch it, and boy-howdy am I glad I did. This woman spoke to my damn soul. She is perimenopausal and has ceased to care about most things. Girl, I’m right there with you. Apparently, so are thousands of other women because Ms. Melani is now a star. The New York Times even wrote a story about Melani’s We Do Not Care movement for perimenopausal and menopausal women. I love this woman.
Each day, Melani comes to my feed with things we simply are not going to care about today. It may be ill-fitting clothes or not cooking when we have a refrigerator full of food. We just don’t care. Our bodies are going through a lot right now. As my daughter’s kindergarten teacher once said, “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”
Seriously, y’all. We are trying, but some days we just can’t get it done. I know this may be hard for other family members, given how much we have done our whole damn lives. However, those days are over. We no longer have two fucks to give. We are doing our best. Deal with it. Pick up the slack.
I have been complaining the past five years about how little people talk about the hell that is menopause. I applaud Melani for speaking up and garnering a legion of followers. We women of a certain age are just done. We need to band together, discuss this shit and help each other cope with this daily hell.
Sure, it may get better in a few years, but it may not. This shit our bodies are putting us through is real and it’s hard. We deserve some grace. After all our years of service to everyone else, that can’t be too much to ask.
So when you see me lying on the couch with a vacant stare, again, just let me lie there. If I’m crying while making dinner, a hug might be nice. Then again, I may just need some space and a glass of wine. It’s hard to say. We know dealing with us is tricky business, but at least try. We know we are bat shit crazy, but that doesn’t mean we want to be treated that way, or, god forbid, told it. Compassion and empathy, people. Is that too much to ask?
We are doing our absolute best, which may not seem like much, but at the end of the day, we simply do not care.
Note: if you want to find the wise and all-powerful Melanie, she is on Facebook and Instagram @justbeingmelani. She is a hero.
Angela Traver
What is this blog about? Well, it's a general blog, but it is also a very specific blog. If you get that reference, you get a gold star! I have been a public relations professional and writer of press releases for more than 20 years—primarily in the booze biz. I decided to do some writing for fun and embrace the humor that gets me through most days. Hopefully it will make you chuckle—or at least smile. I’m a certified crazy magnet, and more than a little nutty myself, so buckle up. Also, I have two vices—profanity and red wine/whiskey. You’ve been warned. It should also be noted, that I’m a HUGE Bob & Sheri fan. I’ve been a listener for more than 20 years. This opportunity is a dream come true and it may have made me cry. That being said, I cry at everything. If you are into booze, dogs, food and/or knitting, hit me up on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter (although I’m terrible at Twitter and it scares me) @kyspiritsgal. You can also find all my previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com.
