Let’s talk about Menopause
Sayso director, Niki Schuck, wrote a blog several years ago in which she shared her adventures in perimenopause and menopause. It was a courageous act of generosity, made because she wanted to help the younger wāhine in her life – her colleagues and everyone she collaborates with, partners with, socialises with. When their time came (as it does for everyone with a uterus), she wanted them to know that they weren’t going completely nuts. Niki’s blog was incredibly well-received: it opened numerous, amazing conversations about Hauora/health and wellbeing, and we think it’s time we shared it again.
When I reached my early 50s, I started getting hot flushes at night. They were at such a level that I would wake from a deep sleep feeling literally on fire. I felt claustrophobic and, in addition to kicking the duvet off in a blind panic, I often had to sit up to cool myself down. Over the next four to five months, these hot flushes intensified to occur three to six times a night, often also involving hot sweats. It became so bad that I learned to ensure there was always a fan, a cooling cloth, a cooling lavender spray and a glass of cold water beside my bed. Even with these tools at my disposal, standing in the breeze of an open window was often the only way to cool myself down, and my husband grew accustomed to me disappearing in the middle of the night for a swim!
Yes, yes, yes… I know I was going through perimenopause, and I totally get that it is a normal stage in life for women, trans men and non-binary people. But what struck me most, and what many people don’t realise until it happens to them, is how deeply perimenopause and menopause would affect every aspect of my life.
Normally a morning person who would wake before her 6.30 am alarm, I found myself waking throughout the night, rising from a deep slumber as a panic-stricken fire ball… and then sleeping right through the alarm. Having worked for years in a high-performance role as managing director of a company, doing all the ‘right’ things (exercising regularly, eating well, organised) and with a memory like an elephant, it was alarming to become someone who was constantly yawning and lacked the energy to exercise, socialise, or even communicate.
I had dark rings under my eyes; I forgot people’s names and things I was supposed to do. I even started questioning whether I had the skills to deliver, and I felt incredibly anxious about all sorts of crazy stuff.
Whilst very much dependent on the individual, it can take years to get through the perimenopausal phase of wildly irregular periods and fluctuating hormones before you eventually arrive at menopause. Every time you think you’re done with menstruating, your body reminds you that you really don’t have a clue what’s going on in there. And other than taking hormone replacement therapy (HRT) – assuming you can get your hands on it because the patches and pills are regularly out of stock – there’s not much you can do besides enduring.
I had to wait a minimum of twelve months after I had stopped menstruating (which is when you are considered to have officially entered menopause) to begin taking HRT. Medical opinions have since changed, and people can now choose to begin taking HRT when they start experiencing peri-menopausal symptoms.
I noted the date in my diary of my last period and started counting. Those 365 days gave me plenty of time to research the topic of perimenopause and menopause, and what I learned felt incredibly depressing. I listened to podcasts, BBC Women’s Hour specials on the topic, scoured countless websites, tried teas, potions and lotions, took natural tablets backed by scientific evidence, did yoga workshops designed specifically to support women at this time of life. I gave up alcohol, drank more alcohol, changed my diet, went to bed earlier, went to bed later and… none of it worked for me.
I was on my doctor’s doorstep the moment my twelve-month period-free anniversary popped up on my diary. Having learned everything I could about hormone replacement therapy (HRT), I made the decision that it was the right option for me. The bad press surrounding HRT in previous decades had disadvantaged an entire generation of women who were advised against taking it, but that particular study, which had galvanised the world against HRT, has now been thoroughly dismissed as misleading and inaccurate. The power of PR, huh – how ironic!
And what a change HRT made to my body, my mind, and my life. After just two months, the hot flushes had completely disappeared and proper sleep had made a welcome return. I was waking naturally more often, and although I can still be a bit forgetful on names, the anxiety – that feeling of dropping balls, that lack of confidence, that edginess I couldn’t quite pinpoint – has thankfully dissipated. I continued to consult with my doctor on dosage changes as the months, and then years, ticked by, but I finally felt like myself again.
Over the past decade, Gen X and Millennial women have refused to suffer in silence. We have chosen to speak up, share our experiences, and advocate for our own health and wellbeing in a way that our mothers and grandmothers never dared to. To all the women who are yet to face what was once referred to, in hushed voices, as ‘the change’, and to those of you who are currently in the midst of it, here is my advice:
- If you don’t have a good doctor that specialises in women’s health, find one.
- Don’t be embarrassed about what’s happening to you. A hot flush is not something you can control – trust me, I tried SO many times. Just call it out, especially when it happens in a meeting or a tricky situation. Give yourself permission to get a drink, move to a window, take off a layer of clothing, visit the bathroom – do what you need to do.
- Take the time to educate the men in your personal and working life. Why? Because they can’t support you if they don’t know what’s going on.
- Encourage your place of work to implement a menopause policy that supports people through perimenopause and menopause. By raising awareness of its physical and emotional impact, we can help reduce its stigma and encourage open conversations to take place.
- Most importantly, talk to your friends, your colleagues and other people who have been through it. It might not change what you are experiencing, but it helps to normalise the situation and reassure yourself that it’s not you – it’s those damned hormones!