In 2025, 28 rounds of pelvic radiation and 8 rounds of chemotherapy plunged me into early menopause.
I’m 35, and losing my estrogen this young comes with a cascade of risks and consequences. Most notably early dementia and osteoporosis due to the lack of estrogen.
So, I need estrogen.
But taking estrogen has its own risks: thickening of the uterine lining and uterine cancer.
So, I need progesterone to offset the risks of estrogen.
But here’s the problem: progesterone is made with soy, and I’m allergic to soy.
I started taking it and began experiencing shortness of breath. This could be correlation and not causation—I am also allergic to dust and we were emptying out the basement for a construction project, so I was inhaling a greater-than-usual amount of dust. Also I am allergic to grass (call me Bubble Boy) and the grass is very much grassing in Montana right now.
But still, that soy allergy…
So, a compounding pharmacy for a soy-free formulation.
Typically, progesterone acts as a calming agent in the brain by boosting GABA, a neurotransmitter that promotes relaxation. However, I am part of the small but relevant percentage of women who experience the opposite effect. It increases my anxiety and depression dramatically. I had this experience with hormonal birth control in college, yet it still somehow came as a surprise when I crawled down into the depths of despair after beginning HRT in June.
I was saying things like, “I feel like a prisoner in my own life,” and feeling despondent about every choice that has led me to the objectively amazing phase I am currently in. A phase where I am surrounded by abundance, wonderful friends, the world’s most supportive husband, two beautiful, healthy, hilarious, loving little girls, creative freedom my younger self would only dream of, an amazing garden…like, I am truly living my best life. Even despite the cancer.
But despite all these objective measures, for a few weeks there I was extremely depressed, and hopeless, and could not have told you why.
(It was the hormones. Duh.)
I stopped taking them.
Overnight I am myself again. I have noticed since stopping that my appetite has grown tremendously, but I’ll gratefully accept an extra bowl of potato chips over soul-crushing sadness.
Now I don’t know what to do. I’ve had many conversations with myself about this—men don’t have estrogen, so how bad can it really be? I will think. And then I remember that men die sooner. So maybe they’re not the best benchmark.
I recently heard a podcast interview with a woman who wrote a book about gender-affirming care for trans people experiencing menopause, a context with different implications for hormone replacement therapies.
I might need to look into that—is there a way to remain myself while mitigating my long-term risks? Or do I have to be depressed for the next few decades in order to not lose all my memories?
It really feels like an unfair choice.
I’ll be speaking with my doctor soon about potential alternatives. I’ve read that taking the progesterone as a suppository can mitigate some of the mood risks.
But there’s also this voice in me whispering Maybe early menopause was one of cancer’s gifts. Maybe those hormones that were driving you crazy for so long are finally out of the way, and you can live into the fullest expression of yourself.
Why would I run away from that? Doesn’t the body have it’s own wisdom? And my body seems to be saying a real hard NO to progesterone. Maybe the body knows best?
But there’s the omnipresent threat of dementia hanging over any choice I might make.
I need to do more research.
If you’ve had bad experiences with progesterone but need estrogen for other reasons, I’d love to hear what has worked for you. I’m feeling a bit at sea, and frankly unmotivated to tackle this head on. I don’t want to rock the boat of my beautiful life, although I know the boat is rocking with or without my consent.
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