I won't name you because you know who you are, and I don't want to unintentionally forget someone and hurt them.
This open letter is for all of you who consider me a friend.
I don't know if this comes as a surprise to you, but I haven't been feeling well in the past two, actually three, years. To be honest, I haven't been feeling well for a long time, but I won't write about it here.
I haven't said anything to anyone because everyone has their own problems, and we all have enough on our plates. When people are dying because countries are fighting or because they have no food or water, it feels futile to write about one life in particular—a life that is similar to many. However, I am a writer, an introvert, and a person who feels too much, so I have to do what I know and can do.
The last regular job I had was as a live-in caregiver for the elderly, but a hormonal imbalance triggered by stress, which in turn was triggered by instability and other life-related factors, forced me to stop.
Tremendous and shocking symptoms like speech impediment, amnesia, and confusion (brain fog) convinced me in 2021 that I had early-onset dementia (Alzheimer's in particular).
Before that, excruciating headaches and blurred vision made me think I had a brain tumor.
But when other symptoms like profound despair and panic attacks came along, and because I was already crippled by phobias and allergies, I had no idea what was going on with me.
I am a rational and pragmatic person, a fighter by necessity, and I knew that what I was feeling wasn't 'normal.' Although I blog and write about my life, I am actually a very private person, which makes me a paradox.
Anyway, when I started crying in public and stopped being able to control my reactions, I became aware that it wasn't me. Nothing made any sense. I was losing my mind, and that thought terrified me, as you can imagine, considering the suspicions of dementia.
It took me two years to realize that I was perimenopausal.
If perimenopause, premenopause, and menopause are topics you are familiar with, I shamefully admit that I have never given them a thought. Maybe it was my upbringing in communist Romania or the taboo surrounding intimacy that remains for many people even in the twenty-first century.
Even when my period stopped for a while, I still didn't think I was entering a perfectly normal phase in every woman's life (or almost). You see, I have endometriosis—an illness characterized by irregular periods and pain.
The reason I am writing this open letter to all of you instead of individually is that I am overwhelmed by how many things I have to do in order to earn a living. As you know, I had a dream that I never even dared to dream when I was little. It took a nervous breakdown for me to start pursuing it. I officially started writing and publishing books at 40 in 2016, but in 2019, I had to stop to have a steady income—just to pay the bills. Only at the end of 2022 did I finally manage to get back to it.
I know that most of you have a sentimental idea about books, bestsellers, and acclaimed writers. You believe that a book must be exceptionally written and contain a unique story to become a hit and make the author rich overnight.
I used to think that too. However, when you enter this field, you violently and abruptly realize that it's all a lie—a fantasy. The fate of all books and writers is decided by massive promotion campaigns. And this applies to any domain, not just writing.
And it's not fame or popularity that drives me; it's the need for an income. I have been working so hard for decades, and what I earn in a year from my writing is maybe enough to pay for five electrical bills. I don't have the means to pay someone to promote my work. Authors (or people/companies in their behalf) invest thousands upon thousands to get their books into readers' hands.
Writing is a business like any other, and very few have the chance to write solely out of passion.
I am a terrible business person, and do you know what is worse?
The fact that I know that if there was any justice in this world, I would have already earned billions from my work. Billions that I would have shared with others. You know of my plans. You know why I work. Some of you know my real story behind the facade of a single woman with no responsibilities.
I am sorry I cannot keep in touch, take calls, or chat.
I am sorry that I don't even send you a text for your birthday. I have so many things to do that sometimes I think I am going to lose my mind completely.
Someone once told me that the reason I don't find time to spend with her is because she wasn't a priority in my life. And do you know what?
She wasn't.
If I take a call, my work remains undone. I have to give up showering or eating if I take time to indulge in friendships. How can anyone understand this?
It sounds absurd. Not even a president of a country, a king is that busy. Right?
I am so pressured by the need to make a living that I can't even breathe properly.
I promised books to my readers, and they are patiently waiting. The truth is, I have no idea when I am going to write them.
I am deeply ashamed and feel so guilty because I keep postponing publishing titles that could help a lot of people. I am just human, and my days only have 24 hours.
I write in two languages, and it's impossible to explain how difficult it is to make a name for myself under these circumstances. In 2022, I decided to start using my full name for my work in all languages. But that meant I needed to create a new brand. No one can comprehend the number of things I need to do every day to make that happen.
I don't blame those who resent me for being such a distant friend. I wouldn't understand if this weren't happening to me. But rest assured that each and every one of you, whom I consider my friends, is thought of and mentioned in all my prayers. Maybe not by name, but by feeling.
On the 3rd of June, my first book in English after a four-year break is coming out on Amazon. It has been available for pre-order for a week, and I haven't found the time to inform my readership. And why do I write if not for them?
In this book, "iPERIMENOPAUSE: The Latest Upgrade to the Operating System of my Life - Malfunction: Hormonal Mayhem," I speak about the incredible trials and tribulations women go through when entering this natural phase in their lives, and even before.
I had planned to do a massive promotion campaign in advance, but I am absolutely overwhelmed. Today, nobody knows that I wrote it.
This hybrid book, which is both a memoir and a guide to premenopause, perimenopause, and menopause, with insights on endometriosis and postmenopause, is a labor of love. I know for a fact that many women starting in their 20s will relate to what I say in it.
It's such a shame that I cannot advertise it properly. I haven't even made the paperback cover yet, and I am so, so tired.
Yesterday, I thought it was Thursday. What a shock when the laptop told me it was Saturday.
Tick tock for the launch day, and I have nothing set up officially. I invested money in press releases, but today I felt the need to explain why I seem to have just vanished, why I seem to not care when it's the exact opposite.
I care for you, all my friends, and all my readers so much that I can't even express it in words. All my books and blogs are a testimony to this.
I know that some will roll their eyes and not believe in my sincerity, but those people are judging me from their perspective. They know themselves and think everybody is the same. No one is the same. Each and every one of us is unique, and our circumstances make our life stories absolutely original.
Mine isn't about drugs, sex scandals, or crimes against others. It's the opposite: a testament of love and utmost respect. It's evidence of tremendous struggles, feelings, and emotions that no human should ever go through or feel. As I said, it's a life like many others and yet absolutely inimitable at the same time. I am not saying, and I have never thought, that my life story is the worst or that I went through the most horrible things. On the contrary, my life, albeit absurd, is a good life. Or sort of. Not the worst. I am not suffering more than others; I am suffering in a way I shouldn't.
Today, I opened my heart to you, my old and new friends. I shed tears and held myself tight because I miss you. And I feel that I will never find the time to reconnect with you. I want you to visit, I want to walk with you and chat like we used to. But this is just an impossible dream right now. Well, at least in this decade. I have so many things to do, and I am hungry and fatigued. Like, for real.
I mentioned my latest book, "iPERIMENOPAUSE: The Latest Upgrade to the Operating System of my Life - Malfunction: Hormonal Mayhem," because it’s the first in a series that is addressed to women over 20, not just 20. I don’t expect you to buy it or help me promote it, but I won't lie; it would be incredibly helpful to my financial situation and cause: to reach and help as many people as possible.
But if you do want to buy it and maybe give it as a present to the women in your life you care about, please click here. It will take you to Amazon.
Reviewing it there, on Goodreads (click) or anywhere else would mean the absolute world to me.
When I submitted this hybrid book for preorders, I thought I would start writing another one immediately. But here I am, two weeks later, trying to find a way to promote it. And my mind is not made for this kind of thing, especially during perimenopause – hopefully on my way to menopause, that 12-month period without periods (pun intended).
I have been studying and researching business, learning loads of new things, tips, and tricks, but time... time is just passing me by.
It's a privilege to be your friend, and I feel very blessed. So, forgive me for not being close.
I haven't said anything to anyone because everyone has their own problems, and we all have enough on our plates. When people are dying because countries are fighting or because they have no food or water, it feels futile to write about one life in particular—a life that is similar to many. However, I am a writer, an introvert, and a person who feels too much, so I have to do what I know and can do.
The last regular job I had was as a live-in caregiver for the elderly, but a hormonal imbalance triggered by stress, which in turn was triggered by instability and other life-related factors, forced me to stop.
Tremendous and shocking symptoms like speech impediment, amnesia, and confusion (brain fog) convinced me in 2021 that I had early-onset dementia (Alzheimer's in particular).
Before that, excruciating headaches and blurred vision made me think I had a brain tumor.
But when other symptoms like profound despair and panic attacks came along, and because I was already crippled by phobias and allergies, I had no idea what was going on with me.
I am a rational and pragmatic person, a fighter by necessity, and I knew that what I was feeling wasn't 'normal.' Although I blog and write about my life, I am actually a very private person, which makes me a paradox.
Anyway, when I started crying in public and stopped being able to control my reactions, I became aware that it wasn't me. Nothing made any sense. I was losing my mind, and that thought terrified me, as you can imagine, considering the suspicions of dementia.
It took me two years to realize that I was perimenopausal.
If perimenopause, premenopause, and menopause are topics you are familiar with, I shamefully admit that I have never given them a thought. Maybe it was my upbringing in communist Romania or the taboo surrounding intimacy that remains for many people even in the twenty-first century.
Even when my period stopped for a while, I still didn't think I was entering a perfectly normal phase in every woman's life (or almost). You see, I have endometriosis—an illness characterized by irregular periods and pain.
The reason I am writing this open letter to all of you instead of individually is that I am overwhelmed by how many things I have to do in order to earn a living. As you know, I had a dream that I never even dared to dream when I was little. It took a nervous breakdown for me to start pursuing it. I officially started writing and publishing books at 40 in 2016, but in 2019, I had to stop to have a steady income—just to pay the bills. Only at the end of 2022 did I finally manage to get back to it.
I know that most of you have a sentimental idea about books, bestsellers, and acclaimed writers. You believe that a book must be exceptionally written and contain a unique story to become a hit and make the author rich overnight.
I used to think that too. However, when you enter this field, you violently and abruptly realize that it's all a lie—a fantasy. The fate of all books and writers is decided by massive promotion campaigns. And this applies to any domain, not just writing.
All I want is to write in perfect solitude at the end of the world.I have millions of stories in my head that would take me a hundred lifetimes to write them all. But if I write and don't promote my work, people won't know about it.
And it's not fame or popularity that drives me; it's the need for an income. I have been working so hard for decades, and what I earn in a year from my writing is maybe enough to pay for five electrical bills. I don't have the means to pay someone to promote my work. Authors (or people/companies in their behalf) invest thousands upon thousands to get their books into readers' hands.
Writing is a business like any other, and very few have the chance to write solely out of passion.
I am a terrible business person, and do you know what is worse?
The fact that I know that if there was any justice in this world, I would have already earned billions from my work. Billions that I would have shared with others. You know of my plans. You know why I work. Some of you know my real story behind the facade of a single woman with no responsibilities.
I am sorry I cannot keep in touch, take calls, or chat.
I am sorry that I don't even send you a text for your birthday. I have so many things to do that sometimes I think I am going to lose my mind completely.
Someone once told me that the reason I don't find time to spend with her is because she wasn't a priority in my life. And do you know what?
She wasn't.
My priority is caring for my mother and helping as many people as possible while following my dream and writing in solitude. I don't have enough energy to do the things that normal individuals do.
My heart breaks because I can't even explain to my sisters, whom I adore, why I disappear for so long.
I work all the time, 16 hours a day, every day. I don't know what's going on in the world; I don't know what day it is. All days are the same for me—work.
My heart breaks because I can't even explain to my sisters, whom I adore, why I disappear for so long.
I work all the time, 16 hours a day, every day. I don't know what's going on in the world; I don't know what day it is. All days are the same for me—work.
Would you chat with
your friends while you're at work?
I mean, surely you would, but are you allowed to?
I mean, surely you would, but are you allowed to?
If you were the owner
of the company you are employed by, you would probably say, "No, there is
a time to work and a time to mingle."
But as for me, I work
all the time. Writing is my job.
I wish I could say I am the boss, but I'm not
there yet.
It sounds absurd. Not even a president of a country, a king is that busy. Right?
I am so pressured by the need to make a living that I can't even breathe properly.
I promised books to my readers, and they are patiently waiting. The truth is, I have no idea when I am going to write them.
I am deeply ashamed and feel so guilty because I keep postponing publishing titles that could help a lot of people. I am just human, and my days only have 24 hours.
I write in two languages, and it's impossible to explain how difficult it is to make a name for myself under these circumstances. In 2022, I decided to start using my full name for my work in all languages. But that meant I needed to create a new brand. No one can comprehend the number of things I need to do every day to make that happen.
I don't blame those who resent me for being such a distant friend. I wouldn't understand if this weren't happening to me. But rest assured that each and every one of you, whom I consider my friends, is thought of and mentioned in all my prayers. Maybe not by name, but by feeling.
On the 3rd of June, my first book in English after a four-year break is coming out on Amazon. It has been available for pre-order for a week, and I haven't found the time to inform my readership. And why do I write if not for them?
In this book, "iPERIMENOPAUSE: The Latest Upgrade to the Operating System of my Life - Malfunction: Hormonal Mayhem," I speak about the incredible trials and tribulations women go through when entering this natural phase in their lives, and even before.
I had planned to do a massive promotion campaign in advance, but I am absolutely overwhelmed. Today, nobody knows that I wrote it.
This hybrid book, which is both a memoir and a guide to premenopause, perimenopause, and menopause, with insights on endometriosis and postmenopause, is a labor of love. I know for a fact that many women starting in their 20s will relate to what I say in it.
It's such a shame that I cannot advertise it properly. I haven't even made the paperback cover yet, and I am so, so tired.
Yesterday, I thought it was Thursday. What a shock when the laptop told me it was Saturday.
Tick tock for the launch day, and I have nothing set up officially. I invested money in press releases, but today I felt the need to explain why I seem to have just vanished, why I seem to not care when it's the exact opposite.
I care for you, all my friends, and all my readers so much that I can't even express it in words. All my books and blogs are a testimony to this.
I know that some will roll their eyes and not believe in my sincerity, but those people are judging me from their perspective. They know themselves and think everybody is the same. No one is the same. Each and every one of us is unique, and our circumstances make our life stories absolutely original.
Mine isn't about drugs, sex scandals, or crimes against others. It's the opposite: a testament of love and utmost respect. It's evidence of tremendous struggles, feelings, and emotions that no human should ever go through or feel. As I said, it's a life like many others and yet absolutely inimitable at the same time. I am not saying, and I have never thought, that my life story is the worst or that I went through the most horrible things. On the contrary, my life, albeit absurd, is a good life. Or sort of. Not the worst. I am not suffering more than others; I am suffering in a way I shouldn't.
Today, I opened my heart to you, my old and new friends. I shed tears and held myself tight because I miss you. And I feel that I will never find the time to reconnect with you. I want you to visit, I want to walk with you and chat like we used to. But this is just an impossible dream right now. Well, at least in this decade. I have so many things to do, and I am hungry and fatigued. Like, for real.
One day, when my name
carries weight and recognition, you might proudly say, "I know her. I am
her friend."
But if you do want to buy it and maybe give it as a present to the women in your life you care about, please click here. It will take you to Amazon.
Reviewing it there, on Goodreads (click) or anywhere else would mean the absolute world to me.
When I submitted this hybrid book for preorders, I thought I would start writing another one immediately. But here I am, two weeks later, trying to find a way to promote it. And my mind is not made for this kind of thing, especially during perimenopause – hopefully on my way to menopause, that 12-month period without periods (pun intended).
I have been studying and researching business, learning loads of new things, tips, and tricks, but time... time is just passing me by.
It's a privilege to be your friend, and I feel very blessed. So, forgive me for not being close.
If you read this hybrid book, you will find that I mentioned some names. Don't be alarmed; I didn't reveal any secrets about you. It's all about me. Just me.
"iPERIMENOPAUSE is a great read. It's more than 400 pages filled with wit, self-irony, and humor, unlike this open letter.
"iPERIMENOPAUSE is a great read. It's more than 400 pages filled with wit, self-irony, and humor, unlike this open letter.
God, it was supposed to be one page long. I definitely suffer from logorrheic writing.
As you can see, this blog is yet another one that I had to open to reflect my new author name (Cristina Gherghel). You might not remember because it was a long time ago when I published a book, but I used to sign them with Cristina G. (with a period – . – after G.).
I also set up a new YouTube account where I will speak about my books and advocate for mental and physical health. I will also focus on the law of attraction and the power of the mind.
As you can see, this blog is yet another one that I had to open to reflect my new author name (Cristina Gherghel). You might not remember because it was a long time ago when I published a book, but I used to sign them with Cristina G. (with a period – . – after G.).
I also set up a new YouTube account where I will speak about my books and advocate for mental and physical health. I will also focus on the law of attraction and the power of the mind.
It's funny, isn't it, that a woman who just admitted that she felt like a marionette in the hands of insane hormonal imbalance will mention the power of the mind?
But that's the fun in it. Only those who go through these sorts of anarchic experiences that have a cataclysmic impact on their minds can actually understand how to tame it.
I am Cristina Gherghel, and I am still standing. Moreover, I am perimenopausal, and I am open about it.
I couldn't care less about what men would think of me now.
Seriously, I never gave a rat's hat about that anyway.
Thanks a bunch for reading. It's been an absolute honor to have your attention. I genuinely hope I didn't ruin your day or put a dent in your mood.
But hey, if I did, let me tell you again that I love you, and one day we'll meet again. Hopefully, it'll be in this world and not when my body is six feet under, pushing up daisies.
I truly deeply appreciate and respect you, the one who reads this and maybe even decides to share it. Your support means the world to me!
In case you are interested, here are my shiny new (and old) accounts that I'm shamelessly begging you to follow and subscribe to:
So let's keep those fingers crossed, shall we?
Ps: I know I'm pushing my luck here, but if you happen to enjoy reading or coloring books, then brace yourself for the avalanche of surprises coming your way. And not just for you, but for me as well.
Because, honestly, even though I have a crystal-clear vision of what I want to accomplish, there's always something unexpected lurking around the corner, like an urgent bill that demands immediate attention, ready to throw a wrench in my plans.
But hey, that's all part of the thrilling adventure that is life. Isn't it?
I am Cristina Gherghel, and I am still standing. Moreover, I am perimenopausal, and I am open about it.
I couldn't care less about what men would think of me now.
Seriously, I never gave a rat's hat about that anyway.
Thanks a bunch for reading. It's been an absolute honor to have your attention. I genuinely hope I didn't ruin your day or put a dent in your mood.
But hey, if I did, let me tell you again that I love you, and one day we'll meet again. Hopefully, it'll be in this world and not when my body is six feet under, pushing up daisies.
I truly deeply appreciate and respect you, the one who reads this and maybe even decides to share it. Your support means the world to me!
In case you are interested, here are my shiny new (and old) accounts that I'm shamelessly begging you to follow and subscribe to:
- https://www.instagram.com/authorcristinag
- https://www.tiktok.com/@cristina.gherghel
- https://www.facebook.com/icristinagherghel
- https://www.goodreads.com/cristina_gherghel
- https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxPDEwDzEfo1nVPXgHjSKZw
So let's keep those fingers crossed, shall we?
Ps: I know I'm pushing my luck here, but if you happen to enjoy reading or coloring books, then brace yourself for the avalanche of surprises coming your way. And not just for you, but for me as well.
Because, honestly, even though I have a crystal-clear vision of what I want to accomplish, there's always something unexpected lurking around the corner, like an urgent bill that demands immediate attention, ready to throw a wrench in my plans.
But hey, that's all part of the thrilling adventure that is life. Isn't it?
