What I wish I'd known about perimenopause

You’d think I’d have been ready for perimenopause, aware of what was coming down the tracks.

I’m an intelligent woman, an avid reader and a journalist by trade. Research is my bag.

But I wasn’t prepared at all.

In fact, it knocked me for six.

Here’s what I wish I’d known about perimenopause before it hit:

I wish I’d known that my lifelong ability to spin a dozen plates would come to an abrupt end and that the crockery would crash to the floor, smashing into tiny pieces around my feet.

I wish I’d known that my anxiety, always present but just about manageable, would spike so much that it would hit the roof.

I wish I’d known that the brain that used to process everything at lightning speed and had multi-tasked like crazy ever since I was a kid would slow down and scramble to the point that I’d think I was going mad.

I wish I’d known that the incredible energy levels that had fueled my global adventures, late-night escapades, joyous dance sessions and intense workouts for decades, along with my workaholism and compulsive doing, would drastically reduce.

I wish I’d known that the sharp drop in my hormone levels would remove my mask and expose my ADHD, a diagnosis that was confirmed at 53.

I wish I’d known how important it was to take that diagnosis seriously rather than dismiss it as a few more letters after my name, to sit alongside my BA (Bachelor of Arts) and C-PTSD (Complex PTSD).

I wish I’d known that understanding my neurodiversity could help me make sense of my lifelong struggles with emotional dysregulation, rejection sensitivity, time blindness, impulsivity, noise sensitivity, addictions and poor relationship choices (all rooted in my developmental trauma too).

I wish I’d known that it would take me two years to take that diagnosis seriously and finally grasp how debilitating it had been for much of my life, especially how these traits had contributed to my struggles to finish what I start (including this article).

I wish I’d known that the anger I’d suppressed for years - stuffed down with food, booze or compulsive work or stifled with silence - would bubble up into burning rage, about the injustice, the people-pleasing and appeasing, the self-harm and self-censorship, so much so that I’d write a poem about it:

What would I have done with this knowledge if I’d had it sooner, if I’d have known what was heading my way?

I’d have been gentler with myself.

I’d have practised greater self-compassion.

I’d have allowed myself to have my anxiety spikes, memory lapses and energy slumps without berating myself for not being the woman I once was.

I’d have embraced this age and stage, this transitional process, welcomed it with open arms, rather than fighting it or wishing it away.

I’d have stopped trying to override biology.

I’d have stayed home more, cooked more, written more, said No more, lazed about more, guarded my space and energy, forgiven myself, even though there was nothing to forgive.

I’d have made space to grieve everything I needed to grieve without apology, the losses that have bruised my soul and dented my heart.

And I’d have made more of an effort to connect with my anger, to allow it out, rather than disapprove of it, suppress it, stifle it or turn it on myself.

The good news is I can do all this now.

It isn’t too late.

In fact, I’m only just getting started.

I can love myself, forgive myself and shower myself in compassion, starting today.

I can go slow when I need to, say No when I want to, protect my time, energy and space, nurture myself, allow my tears to flow, speak my truth and have a voice in a powerful and effective way.

I can champion my anger, direct it into movement and creativity or, when required, into smashing things up in ways that don’t hurt (I’m thinking of booking a rage room).

I can turn my ire into fire and let it fuel incredible things. I can use it to empower myself and embolden others.

I can give my writing and creativity all the space they deserve (I can express myself here on Substack, complete my novel and finish the non-fiction books I’ve neglected).

And there is more good news on the horizon.

As I mature, I can look forward to even more growth and healing, to the life-changing psychological breakthroughs that are yet to come. (I’ve had many already but I know I’m due more).

I can forge deeper connections with wonderful women who are walking the same menopausal path.

I can discover tools to help me to harness my beautiful brain, manage my time and fulfil my dreams.

And I can tune into what’s truly important, to what really matters and let go of all the rest, because life is precious and short.

What do you wish you’d known about perimenopause or menopause? (I’m somewhere in between - I’ve lost track of when my last period was).

And if you’re out the other side, in the postmenopausal phase, please tell us what else we can look forward to, because the only way is up.

Sending love from midlife,

Katherine x

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