Beyond Hot Flashes, Night Sweats, and the Change: My Menopausal Story

It’s so much more than physical discomfort

Back in the day, I was a huge Sex and the City fan, like many other women in the world. There was a group of us who hosted and attended episode-watch parties. Lisa, the only one with the luxury to afford cable, recorded the episodes on her VCR. Later, we all met up at someone’s apartment to watch the latest shenanigans the quartet experienced in their fabulous lives.

We were in our late twenties, fumbling through grad school. The antics and relatability of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda provided comfort, validation, and some laughs about the painful challenges of dating and single life for women during the late 90s. I remember an episode in season 3 where Samantha felt distraught when her period was late. She interpreted it as the loss of her sex appeal.

I couldn’t help but smirk dismissively because, even then, I eagerly anticipated the day when I could evict my unwelcome monthly visitor. Fast forward 20 years, and around 300 shark weeks later, that eviction notice became a reality. I decided in my late teens that I had no interest in ever becoming a parent, so my relentless cycle was an unwanted monthly subscription I couldn’t cancel.

Childless by choice

I used humor to deflect any child-bearing questions over the years. I would playfully joke that the unbearable pain of giving birth and the total distortion of a woman’s body, as a result, wasn’t normal.

One of my more touchy-feely male friends once chided me when he said, “Are you kidding? It’s the most natural process in the world, and women have been doing it for centuries.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored the statement with a wave of my hand.

I never did tell him the real reason. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone. Even though I grew up Gen X, the expectation that women would procreate and push out a cute little human from our bodies still existed.

Society viewed anyone choosing not to be a mother as cold and selfish, especially if she focused on her career. I didn’t want to deal with the judgmental looks, hear about what an unfulfilled life I would lead, or be lectured about how it was my God-given duty.

It’s not that I didn’t like kids. I babysat for my cousins at an early age. I nannied for different families for a few years after graduating with my bachelor’s degree. During family get-togethers, children always gravitated to me, and I loved hanging out with them far more than I did with the adults.

I will never turn into my mother.

Growing up, I was miserable, and of course, as a child and teenager, you’re not equipped to understand why. I just knew I wasn’t happy and couldn’t wait to leave home. My parents belonged to a generation that believed children should be seen and not heard. We weren’t allowed to have feelings, let alone express them.

Even as young children, if my brother or I cried, we were swiftly met with, “Stop crying, or I will really give you something to cry about.”

Knowing we would face the sharp sting of the thin-strapped belt my mother kept in the cupboard, we shoved the hurt feelings down deep and wiped away any tears. On occasions when my mother felt more loving, she told us if we didn’t stop, we would make ourselves sick.

I never understood what that even meant. However, I did understand no good ever came from expressing sadness or painful emotion. Being a psychology major in college and a voracious reader of self-help books in my late teens, I learned enough to know family patterns repeat themselves.

At the age of 19, I made a firm decision that I would never bring a child into a world where they might experience the same misery I endured during my upbringing. I never changed my mind as I progressed through my twenties, thirties, and even my forties. For me, periods were an intrusive and unnecessary part of my life that served no purpose.

What is happening to me?

As I moved into my late 40s, I was aware that my hormones were changing, but I had no idea what physical symptoms to expect or how they would affect me. Mother Nature decided to have some fun at my expense. She tormented me with more periods as I continued climbing up the perimenopausal mountain, sometimes with two in one month.

It was as though I was playing a game of Candy Land, getting closer to the castle of menopause, only to draw the gingerbread card that forced me to start from the beginning again.

When I complained to my gynecologist, he reassured me there was no cause for alarm and nothing to worry about. Little did he know.

I wasn’t worried, but I was pretty darn irritated about it. He informed me that they usually become more frequent, then less so, until they eventually stop altogether. Once I reach 12 consecutive months without a menstrual cycle, I would be considered postmenopausal.

I left his office feeling completely violated. I mean, what the hell? More periods, seriously?

It’s about to get crazy up in here.

The following year, my predictable cycle became as erratic as a New York taxi driver. Then, one day, I realized it had been two months. Did the moment I’d been yearning for practically my entire life finally arrive? I went out for a walk, and without warning, a tiny wave of grief swept through me.

I was officially entering the second stage of my life — moving closer to Medicare, retirement, and AARP. For me, it represented my mortality where having “my whole life ahead of me” no longer applied. I now had the rest of whatever remained, as a considerable portion of that ‘whole’ was behind me, much like the trail of dust kicked up by an old pickup truck on a gravel road.

By the time I finished my walk, the brief mourning of my menstrual cycle ended. I returned to feeling liberated because it didn’t mean I was done living. In many ways, it meant the opposite. I was currently experiencing some of the most satisfying sex that I had in decades and felt more alive than when I was in my 30s or 40s.

I started writing again. I left a job last year that mentally and physically depleted me for over a decade. Even with numerous twists and turns this past year, I feel a sense of emotional freedom I haven’t experienced in quite some time.

It‘s not just a physical thing.

Unfortunately, some women find themselves severely depressed throughout this transition or battling other mental health issues from all the hormonal changes. Those with a history of depression are five times more likely to find themselves fighting it during menopause.¹

Hot flashes, night sweats, and irregular periods are often linked as the most common symptoms women experience during “the change,” as previous generations so ineloquently described it. However, for numerous women, the most significant concern during this transitional time isn’t physical but revolves around their mental well-being.²

I have yet to experience hot flashes or night sweats, but navigating my moods during perimenopause felt like a wild ride on the tilt-a-whirl with screeching stops and starts I couldn’t control. Unfortunately, even the physical symptoms women experience may not be ones they automatically associate with menopause.

Unexpected Change and Loss

Years ago, I noticed I no longer needed to shave my legs. I never had tremendous growth anyway, but enough to warrant a quick swipe of the razor every other day during the summer months. I assumed the decrease resulted from wearing tight leggings in the winter since I dressed in skirts year-round but lived in a frigid winter climate.

I didn’t think much about it until recently. Sporting hair past my shoulders, I started noticing more strands in the drain and on the floor than usual. I began resembling the cafeteria workers I vividly remembered from high school with their hairnets, as I had to start tying mine up in ponytails while preparing meals.

No one, and I mean NO ONE, talks about how menopause may lead to more hair in your food.

One of the lesser discussed symptoms can be hair thinning or less growth on all parts of the body.³ Now, I loved not dealing with hairy legs, but finding gobs of my beautiful thick tresses falling out by the fist full created overwhelming sadness — another undeniable reminder of all that dust in my review mirror and the effects of aging.

After doing some reading, it became clear that some unexpected physical problems I encountered could be related to menopause. From the heightened sensitivity of my gums due to dryness in the mouth to the startling diagnosis of alarmingly high blood pressure, the correlations began to fit together like pieces of a menopausal puzzle.

While I’ll never know for sure, it’s quite plausible, considering the wide range of symptoms — some familiar to most of us and others more unknown.

Common and Not-So-Common Experiences

You will recognize the following more widely known effects:⁴

Hot Flashes
Night Sweats
Mood Swings
Irregular Menstrual Cycle
Sleep Issues
Vaginal Dryness
Decreased Libido
Fatigue
Weight Gain
Memory Problems

But do you know about some of these lesser-discussed ones as well?⁴

Sensations of Electric Shock
Changes in Sense of Taste
Panic Disorder
Different Digestive Changes
Occasional Dizziness
Irregular Heartbeat
Allergies
Burning Sensation or Metallic Taste in the Mouth
Tingling Hands and Feet

It’s important to recognize that if you’re experiencing any of these symptoms, seeking professional help from a therapist or doctor is essential to ensure that any serious underlying issues are properly addressed and managed.

My Therapeutic Path

Since my main challenges fell more into the emotional category, I journaled as the primary method of dealing with my feelings and mood swings. I wrote as therapy for years in my 20s and 30s. Life intervened in my 40s, so my 50s brought me full circle with writing again.

I tried anti-depressants in the past without success. I’ve been in traditional therapy a few times earlier in my life, which I found helpful. At this point, I didn’t feel the need to pursue either option and instead chose to channel my healing through the expressive power of the written word.

However, I would encourage anyone who feels depressed or anxious to seek help.

Conclusion

For more than 30 years, I looked forward to the end of my menstrual cycle. However, Mother Nature had a nasty sense of humor by giving me irregular periods and an unanticipated wave of grief just when I thought it was finally over. Despite the unexpected cruel twist, I made it to the other side, where the ‘rest of my life’ awaits me.

It’s not about the end of something but rather the beginning, where I never have to worry about that time of the month again. Pads are a thing of the past, as well as working my sex life around that irritating pleasure-killing intruder. So long, Aunt Flo — you are no longer welcome.

It’s time to change the focus, unlike my mother’s generation, where open discussion, especially about the emotional impact of menopause, was nonexistent. We should encourage honest conversations and support for all women going through this transition. It’s important to recognize you’re not alone and don’t have to deal with it on your own.

References:

Freeman, E. W. (2010). Associations of depression with the transition to menopause. Menopause, 17(4), 823–827.
Gebeyehu, R. (2023, March 24). MIDI: 22 Surprising Menopause Symptoms. Reviewed by Nihar Ganju, MD.
Bottaro, A. (2022, June 27). Menopause: Can Hair Loss Be a Symptom of Menopause? Medically reviewed by Monique Rainford, MD. Verywell Health.
OB-GYN Specialists of South Miami. (n.d.). 34 Major Symptoms of Menopause.

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