I have a male medical practitioner. That’s strange for me because ever since my pregnancy days, I’m all about surrounding myself with females. As I grow older, it’s easier for me to accept women are not smaller versions of men, and some experiences must be had to fully appreciate. But my male doctor is nice and, most importantly, he’s an eight-minute drive from my house—six if I hit the lights right.
I was telling him about my perimenopause symptoms, and he nodded like he understood—which annoyed me because he can’t—and he rattled off what he had read (which is the same thing I’ve read) that I could do to help reduce the symptoms. He also recommended I see a gynecologist who specialized in menopause. He freely admitted that medicine was at the forefront of this part of the woman’s experience, and he wanted me to receive the best care available, which would probably come from a gynecologist.
At the end of the conversation, I was feeling good. He was honest with me about what he knew and didn’t, and he even gave me a referral for a heart specialist because of the palpitations I was experiencing. But then, right before I left, he said it would be best if I took steps to reduce my stress.
Just Reduce Your Stress, They Say 😒
Now, nothing upsets me more than someone telling me to reduce my stress. It’s often said in the same vein as eat more fiber, like I could open a packet and empty its stress-relieving contents into my coffee.
Voilà: Stress-Be-Gone!
So, I gave him the side-eye and asked for a prescription to help my girls age faster and sidestep the hormonal teenager phase. Then I requested a doctor’s note to get my job to pay me without continually asking to give more than I did six months ago—for the same salary.
He chuckled, told me to drink more water, and then I left.
Following Doctor’s Advice
I haven’t been back to see him, but when I get my blood work done next month, I will tell him he was right. Humbling though that may be, here’s what I learned when I took all my vacation days at once and unwound:
10 days
It took me about 10 days to fully release and feel like there was nothing on the horizon. I’ve been away for a long weekend, and that helps, but there’s nothing like truly departing from the routine long enough to forget. Not everyone gets this time, but I noticed a difference in my perimenopausal symptoms around the 10th day.
Sleep
Around this time, I noticed that when I awoke, I felt rejuvenated. Without the alarm clock blaring at me it’s time to get up and fight through the first couple of hours, my days started pleasantly. And guess what? I didn’t feel like I needed caffeine.
I went to bed more relaxed, which helped me fall asleep easier. When I got up to go to the bathroom, I didn’t check the time to calculate how many more hours I had before it was time to start my day, which meant I went back to sleep right away.
During the second week, I forgot to take my magnesium and my l-theanine supplements (something I take religiously at home), and noticed I slept just fine without them.
Hot Flashes
I discovered awhile back my triggers are mommy’s helpers: caffeine and alcohol, so I’ve been a teatotaler for almost a year now. But, around the end of my second week, I wanted to have a drink—just one, I told myself. And because I was on holiday, if I woke up in the middle of the night with hot flashes, I could just sleep in the next day.
I experienced no hot flashes during the night after that one glass. Back at home, even on my black cohost supplement, I could not drink.
That next day, I was feeling brave, and I ventured out and had a café con leche con cafeína.
Nada!
Is this how women without stress live? Sure, they have perimenopause—they’re women, too—but are their symptoms reduced (dare I say, bearable) because they have less stress? (Remember the show The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous? I wished I asked my doctor for a prescription of this!)
Two nights later, my husband and I shared a bottle of wine (like we used to do), and I did have hot flashes that night and throughout the next day. I also felt like I drank the entire bottle myself, so for the rest of the vacation, I drank one glass of alcohol and one coffee. No more.
Caveat: I did not stop taking my black cohosh.
Rage
When you’ve got nothing but time on the horizon and no one needs you for anything (and no one is asking you for anything), this one pretty much takes care of itself. So, I stopped my ashwagandha root.
Vacation is Over, and Real Life Awaits
School starts in less than a week, and so does work. Extracurriculars begin the same time, too.
I want to tell you I’ve learned something profound or perhaps something I can share that could help all women who are juggling life and perimenopause, but I didn’t.
Just like previous times, I fear the routine and the responsibilities will reassert their pressures, and there’s a real possibility my symptoms will also reemerge.
What I have learned, however, is that how I live my life is not how my body intended. I’m not meant to get up before the sun because it’s the only time I have to exercise (i.e. move my body) throughout the day. I’m not meant to schedule sleep like it’s an activity because doing so makes sleep a pressure point.
I don’t know how to live whole and healthy while raising kids, trying to keep my marriage alive and well, and working for a corporation that is asking for more of my time (like so many of them are).
But I’m trying to lean in to gratitude: for the time I had away to recalibrate, for the health of my kids, for the marriage that persists, and for the job that hasn’t laid me off to ensure increased investor returns.
I’m sure I’ll manage like I have always done, but when the day-to-day pressures build up, I’m going to look at my Summer of 2025 photo album.
Here are some of my favorite memories:
