Guest post by Trina Caudle, an https://exponentii.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/IMG_5173-scaled-1.jpg, writer, interviewer, and reader focused on personal stories. It is much easier to love people when you know them. She graduated from Western Oregon University with a degree in history and journalism, and lives in the Washington DC area with her family.
When I was in my twenties, I pulled my dad aside and asked, “Is Mom experiencing menopause? She’s been really irritable lately.” He paused, shrugged, and we went on with our day. It was never mentioned again.
Now my kids ask their dad, “Is Mom going through menopause? Because she’s super cranky.” He looks at me, back at them, and says, “Maybe?” And then they offer me chocolate.
And that is my story of learning about menopause. . . that there is no story.
I of course had no idea what my mother was (or wasn’t) experiencing when I asked my dad that question. I’m older now than she was then, and do I comprehend it yet? Barely. I mean, who talks about openly about menopause? No one, other than comedians who make cracks about women who can’t regulate their body temperature.
I’ve heard vague things from other women complaining about hot flashes, PMS-on-steroids mood swings, excess belly fat that won’t go away no matter how many crunches you do, and changing periods before menstruation stops entirely. But I’ve found nothing definitive to establish clear expectations. Certainly nothing scientific about which hormones are shifting and how, and what types of changes are symptomatic, and what types of changes should necessitate a phone call to the doctor.
There are books with illustrations and diagrams and bullet-point advice written for young girls about their bodies to prepare them for starting menstruation—I remember reading a couple of them when I was young, and I’ve bought some (much better ones) for my own daughters. I wonder if there’s something similar for older women who are ending menstruation—it’s certainly not common knowledge if there is.
I’ve just turned fifty, and my menstrual cycle is still as regular as clockwork. Can I say that out loud? The blood flow has changed—it was always heavier at the beginning of my cycle but in the past year, it has switched to the end. The number of days has changed. I get cramps at the halfway point of my cycle when I ovulate, rather than at the beginning of the cycle just before my period. Can I say that out loud? And would someone tell me what is or isn’t normal if I do try to talk about it?
Can I say this part out loud? I probably should, as a warning: I can tell when I’m about to start my period because I get unreasonably furious at the most ridiculous things. I know it’s extreme even when I’m in it. “Why am I mad about this? This is so stupid!” It has become necessary to put myself in time-out one day a month and keep a low profile—answer texts only as necessary, no commenting on any social media posts, do not respond to email or phone calls at all for 24 hours. I hang out in my bedroom with a stack of books while my family tiptoes around the house and whispers.
I assume all of this is perimenopause—the beginning of the hormonal shift. I certainly hope so. At its base, I’m done having children (the reason I had five is because I did not want six), and being all the way done with that phase of life would relieve me of a major mental burden.
But I don’t actually know. My story is that there is no story.
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This post is part of the series Menopause and Me.
(Feature image photo by Elle Hughes on Unsplash)
7 Responses
Unfortunately it depends on the woman. So much variation! My mom was done with periods by 55. I had petered out by 50 but other symptoms led me to a hysterectomy by 51. Don’t miss the cycle at all. Hard to have a deep conversation about something that just isn’t uniform for most, I think.
Years ago I stumbled upon a reference to the book “What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Premenopause/What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Menopause” and noted it down for (much) later because I’d never seen anything like it. A search for “menopause” on Amazon brings up more titles, most of them published in the last year or two. It’s wild to me how little there was before.
It is such a major mental burden to be fertile but also done with having children. We don’t talk about this enough.
We don’t talk about it – “there is nothing to say” because what can be said about aging (becoming more dependent on others) in our “I first” culture, the “sexy spunk” provided in part by estrogen and the other hormones dwindling in our “sex sells” culture (which also provides a lot of the motivation for women to do the caretaking that they do/accept the “obligations” of child-bearing and the baby phases).
I think “nothing left to say” becomes the default because it is hard enough to get information to men about a women’s cyclic lived experience, period, in a way that they can see/feel it. And then, once that actually happens (on any level), perimenopause/menopause steps in and says, “now that you know how this works – everything is going to get upended at random intervals for the next unknown period of time. Have fun!”.
The worst part of this that we have a gate-keeping culture where the women are “the virtuous ones”, the ones who “have self-control”. So our “responsible” sisters then go through YEARS where they “do not have self control” anymore and are cold/yell at people, where they “forget everything” (memory being an executive functioning control mechanism).
I appreciate this. It is so frustrating not to know what to expect. In my case, my periods just got lighter and farther apart – until that two days shortly after my 50th birthday when the flow was so scarily heavy that on day two I tried to get in to see a doctor. No luck on such short notice (in all fairness, I had recently moved and hadn’t yet found an MD – but still….) It stopped on it’s own but for the next day or two I felt jelly-kneed and faintly nauseated. After that, I only had a few more periods with five or six-month gaps in between. I couldn’t tell you when they actually stopped, because you don’t actually know when you have it that it’s the last one, but I do remember packing for a vacation, thinking it had been a while, and that I should probably pack some tampons. I did, didn’t need them, and haven’t needed them since. For the most part my transition was smooth in terms of hot flashes and weight gain (very few and minimal) but how did I NOT KNOW that hemorrhaging is a) terrifying; b) dangerous; and c) not that uncommon? I subsequently learned from a friend that she’d ended up in the ER twice with precisely that situation, and the second time needed an emergency hysterectomy. To your point: can we TALK about this?
Mmhmm. Thanks for participating in creating the story that doesn’t exist yet!
I am deeply moved by your honest account of navigating menopause. Your courage in sharing the physical and emotional transformations, as well as the profound impact on your spiritual journey, is commendable. It’s discussions like these that can break the stigma around women’s health issues like menopause and encourage more open dialogue. Your experience highlights the importance of self-care and self-advocacy in our health journeys. Your strength and resilience shine through your words and serve as an inspiration to many. Thank you for sharing your story.