What I Wish I Knew About Perimenopause After Living With Endometriosis

I thought I was prepared.

After all, I had lived with endometriosis for years.

I knew pain.

I knew exhaustion.

I knew what it felt like to advocate for myself when no one had answers.

And perhaps naively, I thought:

"If I survived endometriosis, surely nothing else could shake me quite like that."

But boy, was I wrong.

Because no one prepared me for perimenopause.

No one told me about the forgetfulness.

Walking away from my car and wondering where I'd put my keys.

Leaving them in the front door.

Walking into a room and forgetting why I was there.

No one told me about the strange disconnect.

The feeling that physically I was present...

but mentally I was somewhere far away.

The way I would second guess myself.

Question decisions I had made with confidence for years.

Wonder if I was losing my edge.

No one told me about the tears.

That I could hear a song on the radio and suddenly feel sadness wash over me from nowhere.

Not because anything terrible had happened.

But because something inside me was shifting.

And perhaps that's been the hardest part.

Not the hot flushes.

Not the sleep.

Not even the brain fog.

It's grieving the version of yourself you thought would always be there.

The woman who could push harder.

Carry more.

Keep going no matter what.

And slowly learning that this season is asking something different of you.

More softness.

More patience.

More rest.

More compassion.

As women, we're taught to prepare for periods.

We're taught about pregnancy.

We're warned about menopause.

But perimenopause?

The decade of change that can quietly alter your body, brain, emotions and sense of self?

Hardly anyone talks about it.

And that's why I'm writing this.

Because if you're reading this and thinking:

"What's happening to me?"

You're not broken.

You're not weak.

You're not imagining it.

You are changing.

And while I don't have all the answers yet, I do know this:

You don't have to navigate this season alone.

And maybe...

Just maybe...

This next version of us won't be less than who we were before.

She might simply be asking us to live differently.