I Didn't Expect to Grieve These Things in Menopause

I don't think we talk enough about the grief that can come with menopause. Sure, we talk a lot about the hot flashes, night sweats, weight gain.

The hormones and brain fog. Those things are real.

But for me, the hardest part wasn't any of those. It was grieving parts of my life that I never imagined I would miss. Not because I wanted to go backward. Because I didn't realize how many of those things became a part of who I was.

My body.

I've been fortunate to have some version of the same body since I was a teenager. Of course, it's been through three pregnancies, surgeries and a lot of other things that changed it. But underneath all of that, I still had this sense of stability, that at least I understood it.

For example, I knew how to dress it and what looked best on me. I knew which workouts worked and what didn't. I knew where I would inevitably gain my holiday weight every year (hello, butt and thighs!)

Then, almost overnight, I didn't. I gained weight in places I never had before, my waist disappeared and clothes stopped fitting the same.

I'd wake up one way and by afternoon, I felt like I was living in a completely different body from the bloating.

It's a really strange thing to grieve a body that technically still belongs to you. And yet, there was so much I missed about those years of predictability that were just gone.

My face.

I don't know about you but there are mornings I look in the mirror and think "who is she?"

My eyes and brows feel heavier, I look tired even when I'm not. My cheeks have fallen. The face I've looked at for over 50 years feels a little unfamiliar in ways I can't even fully put my finger on. I don't feel "familiar" anymore and honestly that's been disorienting.

I'm not trying to look 35 again, I just want to feel like me.

My cycle.

This one surprised me the most because after 40 years of endometriosis, fibroids and painful, heavy periods, I thought I'd want to throw a party when they were over!

And while part of me did, another surprising part quietly mourned it.

Sure I don't miss the cramps or inconvenience of it or the hormonal roller coaster every month, but I do miss what it represented.

My fertility, feeling feminine, connecting with other women over it.

Then one day it was gone, never to come back. I wasn't expecting to miss what it symbolized, but I do.

Food.

I've had to give up gluten in menopause. I've been gluten intolerant my whole life but something about this transition took it to another level. Honestly it's been one of the healthiest decisions I've made, but also one of the hardest.

And sometimes it's not even about grieving the food, it's about the memories made with my people, eating crusty bread and pizza. Being spontaneous, ordering whatever looks good, sharing a dessert.

Those little freedoms were awesome and I miss them so much.

A glass of wine.

I still enjoy one, don't get me wrong. But I also know the cost of it. My sleep will be crap that night, my heart rate will be higher, my HRV will tank. I'll feel a little off the next day.

Sometimes it's worth it, sometimes it's not. But I do miss when I didn't have to think about it.

A full house.

"I can miss the woman I used to be... without wanting to go back."

Well, this one probably has less to do with menopause and more to do with timing. Our kids grew up, went to college and moved out at the same time that my hormones were fizzling out.

They have beautiful lives of their own but damn, do I ever miss the sound of a full house. It's almost unbearably quiet some day.

Two of my biggest life transitions happened together.

The life I used to have.

This one has been the hardest to put into words. For years my days had their own rhythm. At times, it was a bit too fast and furious but I knew what to expect. School drop offs and pickups, Friday night football games, gymnastics meets and horse shows.

I used to complain about how busy it was but honestly I never really minded it at all.

I don't miss some of the stress of that time, but I do miss the routines and the feeling that everyone needed me. I miss that purpose.

If you're walking through menopause right now, maybe you've noticed some of these quiet griefs too. Your body, face, confidence, routines, family. Identity.

That doesn't make you ungrateful, it just makes you human. The beautiful thing I've discovered is this:

Grief and gratitude can exist at the same time.

I can miss my old body..while learning to love this one.

I can miss the noise of a full house...while deeply enjoying the peace.

I can miss the woman I used to be...without wanting to go back.

I've found that every season asks us to let go of something. But the beauty is that every season hands us something new in return.

I'm still discovering what this one has to give. And rediscovering me along the way.