Perimenopause, Parasites & a Personal Meltdown: Welcome to the Sh*tshow

Hormones, Brain Fog & Emotional Breakdowns—But Make It Holistic Glam with a Side of Rage Crying

Wanna stay updated on wellness rants, raw realness, and the occasional parasite cleanse breakdown?

Subscribe, babe.
I promise not to spam you (I don’t even text back on time). But I will send you juicy updates, new blog drops, freebies, and a gentle reminder that you’re not the only one screaming into the void while drinking lemon balm tea.

By: Tina Sorenson aka The Wellness Blondie

Let’s not sugarcoat it (because I’m off sugar, remember?): perimenopause has me by the ovaries and she is not letting go. No gentle nudge into womanhood’s next chapter. Nope. This hormonal hooligan kicked down the door with a bottle of cortisol and a middle finger, yelling, “Surprise, bitch!”

Suddenly, my AuDHD symptoms—those quirky little things I used to mask with a smile, a planner, and three mugs of herbal tea—have officially gone rogue. Executive dysfunction? In full control. Emotional regulation? Left the chat. My memory? Let’s just say I walk into rooms now like I’m on a scavenger hunt for my own damn purpose.

Mental health? Oh, she’s on vacation. In hell.

The anxiety, depression, overstimulation, rage, and occasional spontaneous sobbing to ‘90s ballads? All thriving. It’s like every unsolved trauma and mystery symptom I’ve ever had got together, formed a girl group, and started touring my nervous system.

And don’t even get me started on the healthcare system. Actually—do get me started. Because the only thing more broken than my hormones is our access to care. I’ve been playing doctor-detective for YEARS with mystery symptoms and zero answers. Just vibes, Google, and an ever-growing supplement graveyard.

Would I love to see a functional practitioner? Um, YES. Would I love to spend time in a dreamy healing retreat with trauma-informed therapy, energy work, and someone else making my damn meals? OBVIOUSLY. But alas, that doesn’t quite fit into my “trying to pay for groceries and keep the lights on” budget.

Meanwhile, my stress has stress. My weight won’t budge. My energy has packed its bags. My body is holding onto trauma, toxins, and probably every microaggression I’ve ever experienced like it’s collecting emotional Pokémon.

Supplements? Check. Sage? Burning. Mental stability? Pending.

Enter: my “Who the F*ck Am I?” Era.

Because I genuinely don’t know anymore. Not in the cute “rebranding” kind of way. More like I woke up and realized I’ve been living as a filtered version of myself, taped together by survival mode and herbal tinctures.

So, like the overachieving chaos queen I am, I wrote a whole damn workbook called Who the Fck Am I?*—because, plot twist, I need it just as much as anyone else. It's raw, it's real, it's radically uncomfortable, and yep—it’s mine.

And let’s be real—maybe I’m not behind in life. Maybe I’m just not on a path made for Pinterest boards and hustle culture. Maybe my path is a winding, witchy, weed-covered trail of truth, healing, and the occasional mental breakdown in the vitamin aisle. And maybe that’s OK.

Yes, I’m doing a parasite cleanse. No, I’m not kidding.

Apparently parasites don’t just steal your nutrients—they also hold onto trauma. LIKE LITTLE TOXIC HORCRUXES. As they die off, they release all that crap into your body and your brain. So if I seem extra irritable, greasy, or existential lately, it’s because I’m literally exorcising demons from my digestive tract.

My skin’s a mess, my brain’s foggy, and every part of me is screaming. I’m breaking out like a hormonal teenager, crying like a hungover bridesmaid, and trying to expel the actual parasites and the metaphorical ones. (Looking at you, unhealed trauma. And Brenda from high school.)

Will this cleanse fix me? No. Probably not.
Will it help me shed some of this stored-up energetic and literal sh*t? I desperately hope so.

After this, I’m throwing the whole vitamin cabinet out and starting fresh with an adaptogen stack that would impress even the most pretentious wellness influencer. Because I’m ready to rebuild the temple, baby—but this time with boundaries, therapy, and less caffeine-induced delusion.

Here’s the tea (herbal, obviously):

I’m still here. Still fighting. Still fumbling toward healing like a half-feral wellness gremlin. I want to get back to the version of me who was wild, goofy, glowing, grounded. The me who laughed easily and danced often. She’s still in here—I just have to shovel through the mental and emotional debris to find her.

So if you’re reading this and you feel like your brain’s on fire, your body’s a mystery, and your soul is halfway to Mars—you’re not alone. I’m here, on the floor, eating my magnesium gummies, screaming into the void right alongside you.

If you can swing it, get into therapy. It sucks. It hurts. And it’s so worth it.
And if you can’t afford therapy? Talk to someone. Even a stranger. Even me. Especially me. I’ve got tissues, tea, and just enough dysfunction to make you feel seen.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk/rant/soul purge.
I love you. I see you. Stay sassy. Be wild. Kill your parasites.

What I’m Into Right Now (Because I’m More Than Just a Hormonal Dumpster Fire)

🎧 What I’m Listening To:

• Unlocked by Savannah Chrisley – because I like my emotional processing with a little Southern sass.

• Love Murder with Jessie Pray and Andie Cassette – nothing says “bedtime story” like a good ol’ fashioned double homicide.

• Replaying my own spiraling inner monologue like it’s a podcast no one subscribed to.

🎵 What I’m Blasting in My Kitchen While Overthinking My Life Choices:

• Yungblud – equal parts chaos, rebellion, and emotional trauma. Basically, my vibe in music form.

• Occasional sad girl ballads when I need to dramatically stare out the window while detoxing parasites.

📺 What I’m Watching (When I Should Be Sleeping or Meditating):

• SLOMW: Secret Lives of Mormon Wives – give me all the secrets, the drama, and the passive-aggressive baking.

• The Gilgo Beach Serial Killer Documentary – because apparently, I like my “relaxation” with a side of true crime.

• Murder, Mystery, & Makeup with Bailey Sarian on YouTube – because murder and contouring? YES.

📚 What I’m Reading:

• The Body Keeps the Score – my body isn’t just keeping score, it's writing the damn trauma novel.

• My own Who the Fck Am I?* workbook – because apparently I wrote a therapeutic gut punch disguised as a workbook.

• Journals from my past self. She was dramatic, hopeful, and clearly already spiraling toward enlightenment.

---

That’s it for now, love. If you're also in the throes of chaos, cleansing, or just trying to find your damn self—welcome. You're in good company.

Stay weird, stay wild, and don’t let the parasites (literal or energetic) win.
– The Wellness Blondie 🐝💛

Did this post hit home?
Make you laugh? Cry? Realize your liver might be holding onto unresolved childhood trauma?

Then do the Lord’s (or the Universe’s) work and share this mess.
Send it to a friend, your therapist, your group chat, or the girl on TikTok who’s also crying while dry brushing.
Because healing is hard, and it’s way more fun when we air out our chaos together.

Tag me. @thewellnessblondie
Let’s make oversharing ✨therapeutic✨ again.