Everyone’s Talking About Menopause, But Where’s the Help?

I’ve written what feels like 7,000 drafts of blog posts over the last few weeks, and honestly, they all read like they were written by 7,000 different people. That’s what this rollercoaster of hormones does — it makes me feel like a different person every single day.

Right now, in this moment, I’m furious. Furious at this whole menopause shit. Furious that I still haven’t heard back about my specialist referral. Furious that I have to chase it up when some days, even the smallest tasks feel like the final straw.

It’s like I’m walking a tightrope, and the slightest thing — a bang of my elbow, my clothes catching on a door handle, dropping a fork while emptying the dishwasher — could send me spiralling into either a flood of tears or a blind rage.

I had a couple of relatively calm weeks where I felt somewhat in control, but I can feel that slipping away. The panic is bubbling beneath the surface, and I hate it.

All I want is to feel normal. Not ecstatic. Not like I’m winning at life. Just normal. I want to be able to make basic, everyday choices without feeling so soul-crushingly overwhelmed. I don’t want to be afraid of sitting still because my thoughts might turn dark. I don’t want to question every life decision I’ve ever made just because my hormones are tanking.

Ten years ago, I don’t remember feeling like this. So why now?! Oh yeah. Fucking hormones.