If you’re reading this and you’re in the wild ride known as perimenopause, hit that share button and send it to everyone in your life — your partner, your boss, and yes, even the guy in your yoga class who gives you the stink-eye when you wobble during triangle pose. Seriously, they all need to know!
Let’s get real for a moment: perimenopause is not some gentle transition; it’s a whirlwind of unpredictable symptoms that can leave anyone feeling confused and overwhelmed. If you think you understand because you watched a guy’s Instagram reel about his wife’s experience, think again. It’s one thing to scroll through a meme; it’s another to live through the chaos.
The truth is, we’re still piecing together information about perimenopause. While some healthcare providers are catching up, many of them seem out of the loop, as if they’re cleaning glasses at a bar while we’re just getting hammered on this hormone rollercoaster.
It’s not just about the hot flashes or the irregular periods — some of us are coping with a surge of periods, thank you very much! Yes, our bodies might feel like a malfunctioning incinerator, but there are also those among us who feel perpetually chilled, bundling up in socks even in the heatwaves.
This stage of life is a major disruption, turning our understanding of our bodies upside down. We used to bask in restful sleep, and now it feels like a distant dream unless we medicate ourselves into a stupor. When we resort to that, it’s because an underslept perimenopausal woman resembles a tiger on the prowl — and trust me, you don’t want to cross her path.
Our joints hurt for no reason, and we find ourselves playing the guessing game: “Did I overdo it at the gym, or is this arthritis talking?” Anxiety, that old buddy, is busier than ever, bringing along its whole crew, leaving us to bet on whether we’ll face a global crisis or simply watch our family members battle over how to load the dishwasher.
Speaking of battles, let’s talk about vaginas. For many of us, they’re becoming as dry as a desert, with no amount of water going to aid travel — or maybe some of us are battling an entirely different issue, like chronic moisture that might inspire a rainforest analogy, even as our libido gets buried under layers of dry humor and reminds us our child-rearing days may be behind us.
And let’s not forget the delightful scent of “Old Man Smell” that sticks to the underwear of some of us who laugh through slight incontinence. Oh, the joys of aging! Not to mention, orgasms? They’ve become the elusive treasure that seems forever out of reach.
Our breasts — just don’t even touch them. They might just remind you of your turbulent teenage years when everything felt all too dramatic. And those periods? Imagine dealing with a moody adolescent who shows up uninvited and leaves when they feel like it, without any notice.
But the real challenge? Brain fog. We’ve all had that nightmare where you feel like you’ve turned into a complete dunce. Well, congrats, that’s perimenopause in action. One moment you can’t find the right words, the next, you’re mixing up phrases. I once had a month where I could’ve sworn I was speaking a different language — “Lixing mup ly metters at the weginnings of bords,” anyone?
Forget last week, I’d struggle to remember what I had for breakfast. Keep laughing it off, but then we worry about early Alzheimer’s. Should we get ourselves tested? Half our online friends say yes, the others say no, and the last half? Well, they forgot to chime in. It’s dizzying, to say the least.
Meanwhile, our partners and families might not fully grasp what we’re battling unless they’re in the same boat. We can feel like we’re speaking to a wall when all we want is a smidgen of empathy. And if we mention perimenopause too many times? It’s like we’re suddenly the punchline of a joke.
Let’s be clear: we are not mere memes. This is a significant biological phase deeply rooted in our hormonal changes, making it possible for us to create life. As Amy Adams aptly puts it in her film, “Nightbitch,” we’re practically gods — gods who are trying to stay composed while feeling like we’re falling apart.
The expectation that we just manage it — come what may — while keeping up with everything else is unrealistic. But there’s a hidden light in this midlife storm: anger. I didn’t love the phase where I found myself slamming my hands on the desk, fueled by an intense rage. But with the right help, this anger can redirect us toward setting boundaries in our lives.
This tumultuous transition offers an opportunity to explore life anew. Wanda Sykes famously said it’s not that we care less as we age. Instead, with declining estrogen, we’re just becoming more direct — which might be refreshing in its own right.
Did you know that saying “no” can be liberating? Recently, someone thought they could coax me into a PTA position. I shot back, “Not on your GD life!” while still managing to thank them for the support. Balance is key, right?
I’m not going to quietly fade away. This journey is too real to downplay. So, don’t be surprised if you catch me sporting a saying on a sweatshirt that declares, “Due to not wanting to, I will not be.” Oops, I sent one to my mom’s house. At least she’ll appreciate the solidarity!
Image Source: Unsplash
