05/08/2026
"Hijacked by Hormones: Heart Symptoms🫀 and Sleep Problems 🛌.
Installation 2: Zombified 🧟♀️ Mrs. Roper 👘 surviving the Apocalypse👾."
Okay peeps — I apologize for missing last week. We were busy with our pre-Mother’s Day High Tea & Tox party!
But as promised, we’re back with the continuation of this hormone disaster series "Hijacked by Hormones: The Body Demons" where I chronicle the absolute chaos hormones can apparently unleash on a grown woman for no reason whatsoever.
This week: Zombified Mrs.Roper Surviving the Apocalypse!🌎💣
Symptom 2: The heart symptom. This one thing isn’t really one I experience. Luckily, my heart ♥️ isn’t pounding like a Maui drum🪘 Circle; or out here doing gymnastics or trying to escape my chest like a Sigourney Weaver alien👽. So I can’t speak much on that one. But, I feel your pain, ladies. I really do.
But sleep?? (symptom #3)
😡 OH. 😳MAH. ⚠️GAWD.
Sleep and I are in a full blown toxic relationship.🤢
My hormones apparently, also decided, to give me the big 'ol fu:
“Hey… remember restful sleep? Too bad, so sad, here's my middle finger". Azzwholes.
I’m exhausted 👏🏼ALL👏🏼DAY👏🏼LONG👏🏼
Like tired in my soul tired. It's like swimming in peanut butter tired.
And then nighttime comes and suddenly my body acts like it’s preparing to defend the village from an incoming 🛸👽 attack instead of going to sleep like a regular human. My own alien crusty zombie version of Mrs Roper replete with robe and all comes alive. Oh, but so does my inner house keeper. Because that last little spec of dust needs to be wiped off the front door credenza.... at 3:32am.
Sleep also now equals:
Too hot.
Sweating.
Restless.
Annoyed.
Uncomfortable.
Feet on fire
Thinking about random nonsense - like ... "I wonder if the Klondike Bar people have ice cream wars with the Ben and Jerry folks in the freezer aisle at Publix?"
And then somehow I'm just expected to wake up,as tho Mrs. Roper's crusy crazy ass wasn't just up five hours ago - and run a company, care for patients, function professionally, answer emails, remember things, make dinner, pay bills and pretend we aren’t running on three broken hours of sleep and pure rage.
Also — can we discuss how nobody warns women about THIS part??
Everybody jokes about menopause like:
“Haha hot flashes!”
Meanwhile some of us are laying there at 2:47am staring at the ceiling looking like Victorian ghosts fighting for our lives under a damp comforter.
It’s rude.
All of it is rude... and mean.
So please tell me…
Who else’s sleep has become a zombi version of Mrs. Roper at 3:32am wiping down random furniture pieces for odd specs of dust thinking about Ben and Jerry's.
Feel free to share your experiences here.
Best,
Desiree
