There's nothing wrong with your personality - it's your mind that's gone.

When you are a menopausal teacher life can be occasionally tricky, especially if you don't sleep and suffer from serious leg cramp.  I think it's important to carry on as normal, for life to be perfectly fine but every now and then holding it all together becomes impossible and you fall apart in front of the Long Suffering Husband.

He looks at you quizzically. He tries to work out what he can fix.  He looks for his menopausal wife manual and flicks through it's million pages but there is no diagram and he is stumped.  You try to help.  You explain through irrational tears, "It's just me.  Ignore me.  I'm fine.  I just need....*sob*....sorry..... I just need a new personality."
"There's nothing wrong with your personality.  It's your mind that's gone," he pronounces.
You laugh and cry at the same time.
He hugs you and says, "I can't work this one out.  Is it good or bad?  Have I said something wrong? But you seem to be laughing.  Or are you crying?"
You concede that you might be hysterical and curse that stupid wandering womb again.

The trouble is that he could be right.  I found the allotment keys in the fridge again and have started to shout out in public.

Last week watching Bridget Jones. Made complete fool of self in front of whole cinema. Just as character was about to throw phone out of  window I shouted, "Don't do it.  You'll need it later." V. mortifying.  It's a great film if there isn't a woman who has lost her mind in the cinema with you.  The worst part was that I felt such a fool I spent the rest of the film sobbing.

It's been a busy week at work.  The school band sounds awful because a few key players have left and those that remain are not very confident, which means my evenings and weekends are spent arranging new music.  Our choir are going to sing at the Royal Albert Hall in aid of Barnardo's and although it's a massed choir there is an opportunity for a few soloists.  Would-be-soloists have to send an audition tape.  19 out of 36 choir members wanted to audition, which meant that my breaks and lunchtimes were spent recording them.  Who needs to eat? The year 1/2 children are trying to sing around the world in 80 songs and we have reached Russia (Kalinka and Minka), which meant that my lessons were spent Kossak dancing, in a music room with the atmospheric conditions of a sauna.
For the Barnardo's concert we have been asked to provide a nativity scene.  I had visions of children dressing up and walking to their place to make a silent tableau.  My friend from another school said, "That's really cool but my head will be cross with me because she'll want to ask why we don't do things like that."
"Oh," I said, "I don't know why it's us.  They asked and I said, 'yes'
Apparently, that's where I'm going wrong.
Anyway, when I got home yesterday evening, I checked my emails.
"How's the nativity play coming on? Do you have a title and a list of cast yet?"
It blinked at me menacingly.  My fingers twitched over the keys as I thought about the only nativity-type story I've written.  Could I really ask primary school children to perform, "Mary was a slapper," in public? Marywas a slapper

Youth Orchestra Members claimed to have found my brain

The LSH came up with a plan. He decided that I needed a break so he took me to a bookshop and fed me.  It seemed to be working when I suddenly shouted, "Watch her!"
Everyone looked at me, as a small toddler headed for the door unseen.
The LSH looked at my son, nodded and said, "See?  Mind totally gone."