A few years ago, I would have never thought to ask myself this question. I was blissfully going about my days with an exercise routine and just enough care for what I ate and drank to allow for some solid eating out and mac and cheese days without many consequences. I was no longer planning to have more children, but I wasn’t thinking much about that time in my life being over, either. I was still actively in the throes of day to day motherhood. I wasn’t preoccupied with my body (most of the time) or my age. As Beau Miles, one of my favorite video essayists, once put it, I was “feeling neither young nor old”.
Then I started to feel old. It began the year my daughter graduated high school and we prepared for her to leave for college. Soon, she would be far enough away that visits were almost always planned and usually required at least a 3 day weekend. No more leisurely meet ups and coffee shop dates and nights spent curled up in bed watching Hallmark mysteries. Then, right before this already massive change, the exact week she was moving in fact, tragedy struck. My youngest brother died unexpectedly after a brief illness. He was only 29 years old.
Those initial days were a blur. I remembering feeling what could only be described as empty, hollow, like my limbs were not only emotionally but physically heavy. Days turned in to weeks and weeks turned in to months of brain fog, low energy, fatigue and lack of response to my usual physical and mental mood boosting strategies. At first, I chalked it up to grief. A lot had happened, my body was in shock. I was grieving the permanent loss of my brother, but I was also grieving the less severe but no less real loss of our family structure, the life that we had built and come to know, and my time as a full-time mother. I attended grief counseling through a nearby Grief Share program and thankfully had the resources to continue regular counseling after that for a time. They were without a doubt helpful to me and my ability to grieve and to heal. I could see some light peaking through all of the clouds. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something in me had changed, like a switch had been flipped. I simply did not feel like myself.
I was by now in my early forties, a seasoned medical professional, and avid scientific reader. So, I set out to help myself the best way I knew how; by empowering myself with information. I went to the library and scoured the internet for an answer, a unifying explanation for my symptoms. I kept looking for the right nutritional combination or supplement that would help me get my mind back, get myself back.
After weeks of research and months of worsening symptoms, I finally realized the ultimate truth. I was in perimenopause. I was stunned, but also relieved. I wasn’t going crazy, I didn’t have early onset dementia. I wasn’t dying. I was just…aging.
I acknowledge that there has never been a better time to be alive and exploring women’s health issues. Perimenopause and menopause have more research, mainstream focus and resources than at any other time in history. Women I have spoken to who experienced perimenopause just a generation before did so alone, confused and fully believing they had temporarily lost their minds. And I have no problem with growing older. At this point in my life, I am at peace with having no more children, and I’m not trying to raise little ones in this crazy, unpredictable time in my life. I have a career that I care about, a great support system, and I am looking forward to the future. But I am a woman, a libra, and a scientist all wrapped up in to one complicated, hormonal human being. It seemed like again I was at war with myself, the way that the career woman and the mother in me were always a little bit at odds. Now the objective, learned, factual part of me seemed to be constantly pulling against my feeling, intuitive, wizened self. On one side was the mathematical, biological explanation for what I was experiencing, paired incongruously with the personal inner knowledge and utter conviction that my grief had somehow accelerated this uniquely womanly process. I was not only mentally, emotionally and socially, but also biologically entering a different stage of life.
Then I did what any of us might due in this situation…I started to ask why. Why do we go through menopause at all? What is the point? Did we as humans evolve this stage of life simply to prevent dying in childbirth at age 55 (which I guess is something)? Or worse, do we now as humans survive past our reproductive years simply because we have the resources to do so (in some parts of the world), but we no longer serve any real purpose. Am I now just the appendix of the human female population? That was a sobering thought. I can tell you, with thoughts like this, it’s no wonder perimenopausal women have trouble sleeping, and its not just the progesterone.
I started to research if other species of mammals live past their reproductive years. Turns out, most don’t. There are, however, some species of whales, including the beautiful orcas, that have not only extraordinarily long life spans, but a role for what scientists refer to as “grandmother” orcas. These older adult females live well past reproductive age, often acting as navigational pod leaders, improving the survival of the entire pod especially in times of food scarcity. Some studies indicate that these “grandmothers” may provide their pod with a sort of ecological memory, guiding them to food and safety based on their extended life experience. This may be a beautiful example of the power and value of age and experience given to us by mother nature herself. But besides us humans, a few species of whales, and possibly a small subset of chimpanzees, we are pretty much alone in the old lady department. As someone who finds reason, purpose and research comforting, this certainly wasn’t making it easier to sleep at night.
My first real glimpse of myself as the crone came when I had my gynecology appointment earlier this year to update my birth control. Actually, my GYN and I were working together to see if updating my method might actually improve my symptoms. Plus, I had no plans for a surprise perimenopausal going-out-of-business-sale baby…or two. No thank you. I was having a hard enough time adjusting as it was, without starting all over again. I realized suddenly that I appeared to be not only the only woman in the waiting room no longer in the prime of her reproductive years, but damn near the only woman there not actively pregnant, and almost certainly the only one there actively planning to prevent pregnancy. I had now fully, intentionally and biologically, left that phase of my life behind, and was entering in to the phase of life I would be until the end of my days. I was not the maid, I was not the mother. So here I was.
And let me tell you, sometimes this crone has issues. Sometimes I cry for no reason and then get angry when I realize how close I am to my period starting. I get injuries. I retain water for no apparent reason. Sometimes I am sore for days after a work out. And sometimes I get SICK of seeing all the posts telling me how much protein is in cottage cheese and how much fiber is in avocado. I do try to keep my inflammation down. I am focusing on staying healthy and what that means to me now is staying independent, mobile and agile. I try to build strength. I’m still trying to figure out how to actually have hobbies instead of trying to monetize everything in to a possible career backup. I wonder what it means for me if I no longer need to work, or if I feel like I no longer can.
I am happy with my decision to leave my reproductive years behind and I secretly rejoice whenever my daughter mentions maybe being a mother herself one day. Truth is, though, I am not totally sure where my place is now; and realizing I will likely be in this phase of my life longer than any other, I wonder why we as women don’t talk much about it or share with each other more.
.I will say, this getting older thing hasn’t been all bad. I have gotten SO much better at enjoying the little things. At the risk of sounding like a Pinterest post, I enjoy quiet days. Simple rituals, even chores. Enough rain or snow to make it perfect to stay inside and read all day. A new hike; a well known hike; a long walk. A great cup of coffee or tea at home. A coffee date with my sister or a friend. I don’t get dragged in to as much stuff at work and I’m better at saying no when something doesn’t meet my personal or professional goals. I’m less likely to work for free. I need more alone time and I don’t worry as much about asking for it. I learn more from my mistakes and I think I am a better friend.
After all my soul searching and research, I still can’t say with any certainty if we are evolutionary anomalies or beautiful intentional designs to lead our families in times of turmoil and scarcity. What I do know is we are here, and I am trying to make whatever sense of that I can.
If you are grieving the loss of a loved one and are interested, please look in to Grief Share programs in your area. https://www.griefshare.org/
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