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The Real Monsters Under the Bed (midlife and mental health)


Halloween is fast approaching and there are monsters a-plenty to be seen. They're adorning doorways, hanging from shop windows, drawing us into late night TV shows or running around in little versions with buckets to fill from Trick or Treat hauls. All harmless fun perhaps? It gives us an adrenaline rush from a slight scare or nostalgically reminds us of spooky childhood games - bobbing for apples, hiding under bed-sheet ghost costumes or reading Meg and Mog stories. (Now I'm really showing my age!)


Over the years, I've not known quite where I stand in relation to Halloween. As a child I joined in simple games around that time of the year, like buns on strings and apple bobbing at a Brownie Girl Guide's party. We may have made witches hats but we never went Trick or Treating. I think that is something that has become more popular, and definitely more commercialised, in recent years. I can remember being told that we shouldn't go knocking on strangers' doors or intimidating people in their homes. Indeed, there were spates of egg throwing at front doors at the time. I think a lot of the Trick or Treating is much more supervised now.


As a teenager, I definitely went to a few Halloween parties, even driving to one in my first car whilst dressed as a witch. A fact that I hadn't fully remembered when I stopped for petrol on the way. Yet such parties haven't been something that I've attended regularly or that I have hosted, even when I had my own kids. In the early part of my teaching career it was borough policy not to mention Halloween, although themes of light and dark were often woven into the lesson plans. Personally, I don't mind that people celebrate Halloween but I think I have issues with the degree of horror that is openly displayed around it. Overly graphic costumes and props can be seen on the high street and I think they shouldn't be readily on display for children to see and become desensitised to. Those are my thoughts, but I appreciate that they stem from someone who doesn't like horror movies and prefers their monsters and supernatural figures to be more storybook in nature.


Now, as I enter the later years of my fifties, I find that the real monsters that lurk under my bed are less tangible yet infinitely more scary. Much has happened in our family in the last couple of years that has given me cause to think about the fleeting nature of life. What seems full of potential and opportunity can dissolve in an instant. Such events, along with my personal ageing process and imminent changes for family members has left me facing fears. The monster of menopause continues to ridicule me during sleepless nights, dizzy spells and moments of brain fog. The demons of doubt stand in dark pathways and have stopped me from writing on so many occasions since my last publication in 2022. I start to make notes and then wonder who on earth would be interested in reading what I have to say? Then I have two choices - find some motivation to keep on writing down my thoughts, lines of poetry, sentences that may string together to form some sort of worthwhile whole, or stop. Often the monsters win and I do stop. This poem from a while ago sums up such thoughts:


Imposter Syndrome


In front of me she stands,

Making demands I cannot meet,

Projecting an image,

Of confidence, of knowing,

Shadows show my inner thoughts,

Thoughts that jeopardise,

Encapsulated by a lack of motion,

Rigid to the spot, reluctant to bloom.


'Diary of a Dizzy Peri - Poems and thoughts on midlife, menopause and mental health.'

Karen Honnor 2020


I feel that there are more unanswered questions that lay ahead for me now, than there were in my youth. Is that just a selective memory or did the combination of naivety and youthful enthusiasm give my wings the lift they needed to soar? Nowadays, making plans requires added levels of thought, checking existing commitments, and whether the reward of participation is worth the effort of sorting everything out in order to be there. So TV nights on the sofa are often the result. But nagging away at me, when I'm still and quiet enough to listen to the voices forming, are thoughts of how much time we have to do anything. I don't want to keep putting off life-affirming events, holidays, a move to the countryside or coast. For if we leave these things for too long, then those old-age monsters will have moved out from under the bed and fully set up camp in the bedroom.


I guess it's time to face the monsters - self-doubt, depleting energy and fitness, loss of identity and relevance. It's time to do something about them. I've got a witch's wand somewhere...

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