The Real Crisis in Women’s Health Isn’t Aging. It’s a Lack of Stewardship.

I’ve been thinking a lot about stewardship lately.

Not land stewardship.

Body stewardship.

Maybe it’s because I’ve spent more time paying attention to regenerative agriculture over the last few years. The more I learn about it, the more I find myself drawing parallels between the way we care for the land and the way we care for ourselves.

Or perhaps more accurately, the way we’ve not been taught to care for ourselves. That part of our upbringing that was glossed-over or left to teen magazines to fill in the gaps. A very dangerous situation for our physical and mental health no matter the generation reading them.

The premise behind regenerative agriculture is actually quite simple. Instead of asking, “How much can I get from this land?” the question becomes, “What does this land need in order to thrive?”

It’s a fundamentally different relationship.

The focus shifts from extraction to restoration.

From short-term output to long-term resilience.

From forcing results to creating conditions where life can flourish.

Healthy soil isn’t created by taking more from it. It’s created by investing in it.

Nourishing it. Protecting it. Paying attention to its signals.

Working with natural cycles instead of constantly trying to override them.

The best stewards understand that depletion eventually has a cost.

You can ignore the warning signs for a while. You can push the system harder than it was designed to go. You can prioritize production over sustainability.

But eventually, the bill comes due. With compounded interest. (And not the good kind.)

And the more I sit with that idea, the more I wonder if the real crisis in women’s health has less to do with aging and more to do with stewardship.

We’ve been taught to approach our bodies through the lens of control, management, and extraction.

Eat less.
Push harder.
Sleep less.
Give more.
Keep producing.
Keep performing.
Ignore the hunger.
Ignore the exhaustion.
Ignore the signals.
Ignore your needs.

Just.
Keep.
Going.

Many of us became remarkably good at overriding ourselves. I was a black-belt at it. Until menopause started knocking and knocked some sense into me that is. (Thank you Sis, I needed that!)

There always comes that day that our body starts asking for our attention in ways that are harder and harder to dismiss. (Though we sure do try, don’t we. Silly egoic humans we are.)

When the day comes calling, it often makes it’s entrance by zapping formerly boundless energy.

Recovery takes longer.

Muscle disappears leaving us feeling like a deflated balloon. (Not to mention other areas of deflation…).

Stress hits harder.

The things that once felt effortless suddenly require intention. Our “Multitasker of the Year” badge goes right out the window.

And all because we’ve spent years being told that every change is a problem to solve, we blame it on menopause and turn to another plan, another supplement, another expert promising to help us regain control.

But what if our body isn’t asking for more control? What if she’s asking for better stewardship?

What if strength training isn’t about changing how you look, but investing in the future capacity of your body?

What if eating enough protein isn’t about hitting a macro target, but providing the raw materials your body needs to maintain and heal itself?

What if rest isn’t laziness? What if recovery isn’t optional?

What if walking, lifting weights, sleeping, nourishing yourself, and managing stress are all forms of stewardship?

Because that’s how I’ve started seeing them. And I am hoping you’ll consider doing the same. Your future YOU is counting on you to keep her in mind today.

To me, they’re not chores nor just boxes to check. And they’re absolutely not punishment for getting older. I mean, the alternative to that sucks. Am I right?

The actions on this list are investments. Small deposits made consistently into the future version of myself.

The woman I aim to be ten, twenty, and thirty years from now.
The woman who still wants to travel, because she can.
To hike.
To lift her own suitcase.
To get off the floor with ease.
To remain engaged in her life instead of watching it from the sidelines.

The woman my daughters will someday look at as an example of what’s possible.

I think that’s why I’ve become so passionate about strength.

Now do I think strength is the answer to everything? No. But it is a solid answer to many things. (And while building strength, I get a break from the incessant mind chatter that won’t shut the h*ll up these days with the absolute dumpster fire we’re witnessing.)

Tapping into our physical strength is one of the clearest expressions of stewardship I know.

It’s a decision to invest in capacity before you’re desperate for it.

To build resilience before you need it.

To care for the body that’s carrying you through your life rather than constantly demanding more from her. She eventually claps back for she can only take so much of your demands without reciprocity.

Maybe that’s why menopause is engineered as it is. It’s our body’s spokeswoman. And she doesn’t mince words.

The wellness industry teaches us to manage our bodies.

I’m becoming increasingly interested in helping women steward them.

Those feel like very different conversations.

And in my experience, only one of them leads to lasting health. 💜

Inspired by conversations with and the writings of Christine Martin. Follow her too. We met a couple week’s back and I couldn’t be more grateful for the friendship we’re cultivating. 🌱