The Menopause Mystery: Or, How My Body Became a Renegade!

The Menopause Mystery… As the words flow from my fingertips, a peculiar thought emerges: the deeper the dive into menopause research, and the more pages filled on the topic, the more symptoms seem to materialize.

Given there are over 130 menopause symptoms – yes, one hundred and thirty plus – that’s quite the parade! I ask myself, is it empathy transforming into a phantom ache, or is this the real deal?

When Youthful Ignorance Was Bliss, Periods Awaited, and Menopause a Foreign Word

No wonder this feels like a one-way trip to the “out” door… My journey started late, period-wise, at 16. What a rebel! “Late period, late menopause,” my friends assured me, full of wisdom gained from their vast, four-year head start. Believing them implicitly, the “dreaded” menopause wasn’t even on the radar.

One memorable conversation included a friend’s ominous prophecy: “Once you hit 50, it’s all slowly starting to go downhill.” A hearty laugh was the response back then – I never had to watch my weight, could eat anything desired, and was always toned and fit.

Why on earth would anything change? What could possibly go wrong? Turns out, she was right, of course, though an open admission still feels like a minor defeat.

At that tender age of 16, I had a bean pole physique – no curves, no boobs, no bum – no period. Then, one day, it happened. Envisioning the grand entrance with drum rolls, fireworks, the whole shebang the event turned into a complete anticlimax.

All that happened was the appearance of a tiny smear of blood – pretty much a non-event. So, I had finally  “joined the club”! Eventually, the long desired boobs, well, actually ”boobies” blossomed – small and pert, mind you – only evolving into a healthy C-cup with pregnancy.

Pregnancy and Childbirth – A Breeze

Pregnancy itself was a breeze: zero morning sickness, minimal weight gain (just six kilos each time). The births were natural, uncomplicated, despite both babies being over four kilograms. Trying to lose baby pounds? – Not an issue, I walked out of hospital both times in my normal clothes weighing less than before pregnant.

A curious thought always lingered: why do small, narrow women seem to deliver the big babies, while larger ladies get those tiny, adorable bundles? Mine resembled mini-Michelin men at birth, definitely not dainty and delicate.

From Lad Chats to Pre-Perimenopause Lady Talks- The Evolution

Midlife proved incredibly busy: raising kids, working, household chores – the usual, rather unglamorous routine of a normal woman’s life. At that time, female friends were a rarity. A rather low tolerance for whining and complaining (a personal quirk, acknowledged!) meant more male friendships (purely platonic, of course!).

Menopause discussions weren’t exactly hot topics with the lads. It wasn’t until well over 40, after yet another country move, that genuine connections with like-minded women began. And what an enlightening experience it proved to be!

Having been married twice, a humorous thought sometimes surfaced: “Shame one can’t be gay if not for the sexual part; living with and getting along with a woman (non-sexually!) seems quite easy.” No judgment towards lesbians intended; the personal belief simply boils down to: “Do what you want, stay legal and honest. What happens in your bedroom is intimate, full stop, not public sport or hobby.”

Apologies for the tangent – it´s my ADHD taking over! The point is, to my utter surprise, a delightful circle of female friends emerged. And as one might imagine, the conversations shifted.

A deeper understanding of the female experience blossomed, more than ever before. Though always quite in tune with body and soul (the mind, perhaps less so), an uninterested stance prevailed. The philosophy was simple: if it’s not broken, why fix it? And with a perfectly functioning, “maintenance-free” body, why worry?

Hot Flashes: ‘Is She Melting or Just… Warm?

That, dear reader, is precisely what changed. Patiently, friends advised, “Do worry” – or perhaps less harshly, “Be prepared…” Naturally, a dismissive wave followed, though I have to give myself credit for at least learning about it now.

A pang of envy would strike seeing women unburdened by periods so heavy that leaving the house felt unsafe, fearing a public “show.” Bewilderment was the only reaction to friends’ hot flashes. “How?” the internal voice would wonder. “It’s not hot. She just spent an hour getting ready, and within minutes looks as if she’d walked through pouring rain, soaking wet.”

I just couldn’t relate. During a stay at a friend’s house who is 10 years older, constant heat was her companion, while a shivering sensation was mine. Now? The roles are deliciously reversed. Strange, isn’t it?

Everyone seemed years “ahead” when it came to menopause – some starting in their 40s, most in their early 50s. A fleeting thought struck: “Maybe someone’s forgotten about me!” But listening to their laments eventually led to: “I think I’ve gotten away with it.” Alas, that sweet thought slowly turned sour.

Menopause Arrives (Finally!): And My Body Decided to Remodel Itself

Finally, at the ripe old age of 60, my periods ceased. A peculiar sense of being special, and extremely lucky washed over. “This is it!” Menopause had arrived – at last. No more dreaded periods, no more embarrassing little accidents. Time to truly enjoy life! —Wrong!

Slowly but surely, peculiar little things began to happen to the body once known so well. Suddenly, it felt like strangers were inhabiting the same skin. In the past, five chocolate bars a day and anything desired could be consumed without gaining a single gram has now turned into a distant memory.

Now, the weight keeps creeping up (one of the few constants in my life!), and three years later, I find myself 15 kg heavier than when nine months pregnant. Changing the way I eat, cutting out sodas and sweets, cooking healthy meals, eating very little, everything was useless – absolutely nothing changed.

It was as if the scale was stuck. Initial thoughts blamed the batteries, but no. Clothes became tighter, and wearing a bra morphed into a medical torture device. Who, in their right mind, wraps elastic around their chest and attempts to breathe normally? Imagine men subjecting their “crown jewels” to a tightly cinched string pouch…

The Uninvited Boob Renaissance: A Child’s Candid Review

My bosom continued its expansion. A desire for larger breasts in younger years now felt obsolete, being happily single with no burning desire (well, just sometimes!) for a relationship. But it wasn’t just size; the pertness vanished, the extra weight pulling downwards.

A comical memory: a friend’s granddaughter, surprising her in the bathtub, scrunched her little nose at the sight of her breasts. Upon being told “every woman gets those when they grow up,” the little nose scrunched further, “Well, okay then, but I don’t want long ones like that.” My friend relayed that “big ones” or “small ones” would have been fine, but “long ones”?! Now, it’s me with the long ones.

My Mouth’s New (No) Filter: The ‘Renegade Master’ of Menopause Moods

How could anyone possibly be attracted to me now? A protruding belly (mostly concealable with clever clothing), “long” breasts, and it doesn’t stop there. Patience, once abundant, diminishes rapidly for things that never bothered me before.

Snappiness arrives more easily, and control over the mouth seems to vanish. The brain signals “shut up,” but the mouth, a renegade master, blurts things out, leaving the body wondering how to fix the verbal eruption.

Ultimately, surrender arrived, armed with the brilliant excuse: “Age entitles one to speak their mind; if someone doesn’t like it, tough luck!” Nevertheless, awkward situations persist, from which wiggling out feels impossible.

Never maliciously or hurtfully intended; simply, the ability to find the precise words to convey true meaning seems lost, and it all comes out sideways. It’s sometimes visible in people’s eyes, even unspoken, but one cannot let it drag oneself down; the journey continues (ADHD, getting the better of things!).

Help! My Face is Falling Down!

Another horrifying discovery: skin transformation. Admittedly, skincare routines have lagged, unlike friends who religiously nurtured theirs. Sailing with the lads, acceptance meant no need (and no space) for creams and potions.

The rude awakening struck while sitting on the toilet, turning my head sideways to catch a glimpse in the mirror: one side of the face seemed to have staged a dramatic descent. Help! Panic set in.

Years of negligence were frantically addressed with anti-aging serums, creams, and oils, but perhaps the damage was done. Still, luck might be present; wrinkles are few, and the fine lines around the eyes are a source of pride – they signify earned wisdom (at least that’s my view).

But the revelations continued. Each new bodily change, each digested reality that life would never be the same, brought another ugly head to the surface. The time-span between discovery, shock, and acceptance before another revelation gradually shortened.

The Bionic Woman’s Decline: My Knees Stage a Coup (Thanks, Menopause!)

Stairs were once navigated with a youthful hop. Until one day, mid-hop, my knee buckled on the bottom step. Excruciating pain followed, a lingering limp, until it finally faded – only for the other knee to loudly demand attention. A doctor´s visit and a bone density test later revealed that the problem turned out to be a menopause issue, but it was a stark reminder: 30 is a distant memory!

Oddly, no feeling of being old persists, yet the body continually throws painful and uncomfortable hints: “No spring chicken here!” Then, out of the blue, the hot flashes hit.

German winter, snow falling outside, standing at the supermarket checkout. Sweat poured down the forehead; a desire to strip naked consumed the being, head feeling on the verge of exploding with heat. The cashier lady offered a knowing smile, “Oh, I know that feeling. It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?” Welcome, hot flashes!

Hot Flashes: Now I Understand!

Nights became a torment of tossing and turning, one moment boiling, the next freezing. Duvet on, duvet off. Mornings brought exhaustion from the nocturnal commotion, certainly not aiding the mood. Perhaps a slight overreaction, a touch of snappiness, began.

Tying shoelaces grew more challenging as the belly intruded. No comfortable place to put it when bending down. This, in turn, led to heavier breathing, unnoticed until my grandson innocently inquired why Nana breathed as loudly as a steam train… Oh, the joys!

He’s always fiercely protective, even announcing on his birthday, “Nana can only have one piece of cake because she gets too fat. I can already run faster than her.” —Thanks! Just charming! A brave face and shared laughter (slightly forced on my part) were mandatory, even though a six-year-old noted and highlighted perceived flaws. It stings!

Added by his curiosity about gold (I guess from his mum reading Aladdin) he asked if he can have my gold ring. Explaining to him that it will be passed down once I’m gone, he asked me when that would be (obviously impatient to wait). Being told that only God knows, he threw his arms up in the air in despair, saying, ´No, I mean what day!´ Doesn’t exactly do a lot for my self-confidence! Am I really THAT old that death is already lurking around the corner?

Is This the Start of Dementia? (Or My Mind’s Quirky New Menopause Hobby)

Daily tasks aren’t as effortless as they once were. Work can be a dread sometimes. In my mind, the gymnast of a few years ago (or so it feels) still exists; in reality, the body seems to misunderstand commands, refusing stubbornly to comply. It’s as if two different languages are spoken.

And this isn’t just about movement. Conversations now include sudden pauses, a desperate search for a word. The simplest term vanishes. The brain frantically scours its archives, but it’s gone – completely. Not in English, German, or Spanish. All avenues explored. Vanished. So, alternative descriptions are sought, often resulting in puzzled frowns. The intended meaning is perfectly clear internally; however, comprehension proves elusive for others.

Just the other day, the elusive term was “vocal cords”. My improvised solution: “speech strings.” Laughter erupted, the assumption being a joke had been cracked, which left me with no choice but to join in the mirth.

Does Menopause Turn Me Into a Grumpy Hermit?

Going out, another altered aspect of life. Being a night owl before 50, rarely leaving the house before 10 PM, things changed somewhere, somehow. Recently, a surprised “That late?” slipped out when a friend suggested an 8 PM outing.

Staying up at home until 1 AM presents no issue, but out and about, an undeniable itch to be home by 11 PM surfaces. It’s not about a lack of enjoyment, but an extreme sensitivity to noise that takes hold. Cherished music, even loud(ish), is fine, but a restaurant with poor acoustics and a cacophony of chatter becomes unbearable; time to tune out.

My Body’s Nightly Rave: When Sleep Becomes a Contact Sport

Falling asleep is generally not a problem; however, the rest of the night proves less straightforward. Thankfully, being single means no partner endures the nightly commotion. Tossing and turning like a (less graceful) break dancer, blazing hot then freezing cold, numerous nightly toilet runs, and sometimes, even snoring – not exactly alluring!

The nightly bathroom treks are particularly vexing. Has the thought ever crossed your mind, “Just got cozy, in the middle of a dream, and want to know how it continues, so I’ll just convince myself the urge will vanish”? Wrong! The realization dawns: the bathroom visit is inevitable.

So, what’s the strategy? Eyes shut, navigating the familiar path (mostly) to the bathroom, business done, and with eyes still closed, back to bed, hoping to resume the dream. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Rebel Cravings: When The Brain Decides to Go Rogue

Daytime brings irresistible cravings for things once unthinkable. Coffee before sleep, or a crispy bacon and egg baguette with lettuce and tomato while others enjoy ice cream. What’s happening?

The brain seems to have detached, forging its own path. Previous interests now seem mundane. Even “life after death” books have replaced self-help literature, romance, or action.

Dinosaur or Standing at Death’s Door? (A Child’s Take on Age)

Hearing grandkids ask about “the olden days…” evokes a dinosaur-like feeling. Was it truly that long ago when youth reigned? It feels like yesterday, and unless a mirror is consulted, no change is perceived. A heightened sense of humor becomes mandatory; otherwise, depression and tears would ensue.

Trying to Figure Out How My Scrambled, Unexplainable Menopause (ADHD) Brain Works

Another bane: procrastination. ADHD was unheard of during childhood; an “into everything” nature (nowadays, hyperactivity), “naughty” (inquisitive, by personal definition), constantly shifting interests (short attention span).

This is how my brain has always operated, so brain fog, forgetfulness, and many other changes weren’t initially linked to menopause symptoms. However, things undeniably worsened – significantly sometimes!

For instance, driving to somewhere familiar I visited thousands of times, I suddenly feel lost. Doubt creeps in about the correct route, and my brain is utterly muddled. Now the focus changes to trying to control a potential anxiety attack. I always make it home, though!

A new addition to the list: a feeling of complete paralysis and inability to accomplish anything before an appointment. It’s entirely irrational, but if an appointment is at 3 PM, functionality ceases until it’s over. No anxiety about the appointment, yet functioning and organization remain impossible until it concludes.

Procrastination is a genuine bummer. Others perceive laziness, but how to explain it’s something entirely different? The “why” remains elusive even to oneself, let alone trying to explain it to someone.

A desire to do something results in hours contemplating pros, cons, whys, ifs, and buts, yet nothing gets done. Full awareness exists that the task could have been completed tenfold if I hadn’t spent hours pondering. I´m still spending hours trying to find out how my brain works so I can fix it.

Am I Having a Heart Attack or Stroke? (Or Is It Just Menopause, Again!)

One of the great joys of aging: park visits with grandkids, a pleasure never fully appreciated with one’s own children. Now, rediscovering the world through the eyes of a 9 and 3-year-old is pure fun! However, it’s also a stark reminder of diminishing fitness.

Extra weight bothers and hinders; breathlessness, stiffness, and joining the boys on the trampoline necessitate a sanitary pad, lest a few drops escape. The same occurs with sneezes, hard coughs, or laughter. Argh, what is going on? Now, a touch of worry creeps in: brain fog, forgetfulness, weight gain, and now incontinence? Is sanity slipping?

This leads to blood pressure. Formerly chronically low, really low. Now, it’s skyrocketing, accompanied by palpitations, chest pain, and shortness of breath. A stiff fear grips: dropping dead from a heart attack or stroke in the playground. The cardiologist prescribed pills and advised only light exercise like walking and swimming – great, but how to lose weight without intense exercise? A vicious circle! Is eternal fatness my doom?

Embracing the Renegade: Trying to Find the Upside of Menopause (Let Me Think About This for a Few Hours)

Uff, the saying, “Life’s a bitch and then you die,” takes on new meaning. It’s no longer just a phrase; sometimes, it genuinely feels like it. Alright, enough of the venting, moaning, and whining. Allow me some time to think (procrastinate) about this for the next blog post about embracing all the good things and benefits of getting older. Let’s stay positive! (Or at least try.)