The Unbearable Reality of the Menopause and the Life Changing Effects of HRT

Imagine turning 40 and spending the following three years convinced you have early-onset dementia, or worse, a collection of aggressive illnesses that are sure to end in your painful, untimely death. Imagine your body and mind being swiftly infiltrated by an unexplained force that makes you feel like a stranger in your own body, draining you of your mobility, personality, energy, memory, creativity, passion, sanity and joy.

After spending months hypothetically planning your imminent funeral, envisioning your young child’s life without a mother, wondering if you will even wake up from your next sleep, imagine then discovering that you are not in fact dying, you are simply experiencing a completely natural part of the female ageing process.

This is the reality of the menopause for a lot of women, and I do not understand how something this traumatic is continuously kept under wraps. How in contemporary society the menopause is not lit up in flashing red lights, draped in a million alarm bells like a dysfunctional, sweaty Christmas tree so that when it arrives, we can identify it immediately and take the necessary steps to get through it in one piece.

WTF Just Happened?

It all started extremely suddenly, almost overnight, with joint pain being among the first of my symptoms. I was diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome in my wrist, followed by osteoarthritis in my collar bone, then inflammation in my pelvis and lower spine. I went from being fit and healthy to struggling to get out of bed in the morning. I couldn’t run, it hurt to walk long distances, my yoga was binned, gym membership cancelled and, most heartbreakingly, carrying my little son was becoming physically impossible.

Alongside this came acute symptoms of anxiety. I began experiencing palpitations at the most random times, nausea that would come in waves throughout the day for weeks on end, dizzy spells, headaches, nightmares every night, and a deep sense of dread that would follow me around wherever I went; like that feeling you get when you’re watching a horror movie and you know something is going to jump out at you, you just don’t know when.

My body was in permanent fight or flight mode, yet there was no obvious source of this anxiety. Things were fine at home and work, life was going generally pretty smoothly, however I did have a toddler so I initially put everything down to the pressures of parenting. God knows that alone is enough to make anyone lose their shit.

Certain Death

My?mum had just been diagnosed with cancer?and, not surprisingly, I was noticing a worsening of my anxiety and emotional symptoms as a result. I was also pretty scared that this cancer was hereditary and somehow linked to all these crazy health issues I had been experiencing over the past few months.

“This is it.”?I thought.?“Knackers yard at 41. And I haven’t even got a carriage clock to show for it. Brilliant.”

It was time to visit my GP to try to get to the bottom of it all. The doctor prescribed me anxiety medication and referred me to a therapist, both of which took the edge off things for a good while. The therapy was indescribably effective and helped me put a few things to rest; a bit of mental housekeeping that was probably long overdue. It was a hugely worthwhile experience that changed my life and I strongly recommend it to anyone, symptoms or no symptoms.

For the physical aches and pains I was given a steroid injection for my shoulder and referred for scans, which resulted in the aforementioned osteoarthritis and pelvic inflammation diagnosis. I was shocked at how quickly my body was deteriorating before my eyes.

RIP Brain

Despite the helpful medication and counselling, it wasn’t long before the more serious symptoms of menopause started to emerge; namely my brain completely malfunctioning. I began forgetting things; really big, unforgettable things. I once forgot I was carrying a giant winter duvet, asking my husband where it had gone after noticing it was missing from the bed, a look of grave concern flashing across his face as he glanced down at the duvet spilling out over my arms and up to my chin.

RIP Job

You may not think it from reading this depressing diary of dread, but I’m a humour writer by profession, so having a malfunctioning brain was a critical blow. It’s really hard being funny, and I simply couldn’t do my job anymore. I would sit at my desk waiting for my trademark quirky ideas to form, ready for the structure of the sentences to take shape in my mind so I could type them out in front of me, shamelessly laughing at my own jokes as I sipped my tea…

*tumbleweed*

*crickets*

*If I’d had a carriage clock, it would be ticking loudly*

The ideas had stopped coming. I couldn’t put any sentences together in my mind. There was just…nothing. The work I was producing was utterly unremarkable. I was hired to write for people because I was?good, I was in demand because my unique writing style was in short supply, but what I was producing was content at its most basic level, and my God it was mind-numbingly boring to read.

Often I would just sit at my computer and cry, wondering what was happening to me, how I was going to make a living, and what my life would look like now that the comforting joy of writing had abandoned me. I began to alleviate myself of the majority of my clients and reduced my workload in a bid to go under the radar until I could fix whatever it was that had broken inside my brain. It was truly devastating to watch my creative livelihood and financial independence dwindle away, one confused client at a time.

RIP Friends

My social life had become a smouldering pile of ash, too. Mainly because I had completely lost the art of conversation. Things got so bad that at one point I couldn’t physically speak, instead sitting with a friend in complete, uncharacteristic silence because my brain was empty. It’s not that I didn’t feel like talking or had physically lost my voice, the words just wouldn’t come to me.

It’s so hard to articulate but it was like my head was in a permanent state of staring into space and I was locked outside, desperately banging on the door to be let back into the cockpit so I could take myself off autopilot.

The panic that you feel when you lose the ability to speak is overwhelming and really, really scary. Was I having a stroke? Is it dementia? Do I have a brain tumour? Is this going to get worse? What if I’m imagining everything? There were a million thoughts running through my mind at all hours of the day and night.

RIP Confidence

As a result of my unrelenting worry, gradually rising body temperature and my bladder control deciding to down tools with the rest of my body parts, I rarely slept well. I was irritable with my husband and my son. I stopped listening to music, I stopped dancing, I stopped feeling. I had no energy to cook healthy meals, instead bingeing on toast all day long.

My crap diet and aforementioned cancelled gym membership meant that I’d inevitably gotten a bit chunkier and I was now distinctly unimpressed with what I was seeing in the mirror. My complexion was pale from rarely leaving the house, my wrinkles were more pronounced, I had stopped wearing make-up completely or doing anything with my hair other than throwing it up in a mum-bun. I only got dressed when I absolutely had to because WHAT WAS THE POINT?

RIP Sex Life

Although my husband was beyond supportive during this scary time, I worried about our relationship a lot. In terms of sex, not only did I feel distinctly undesirable but I was essentially dead from the waist down. It’s not so much that I didn’t want to have sex, I really wanted to?want?to have sex, but my body was switched off. That’s the only way I can explain it.

My body was unplugged at the wall so it couldn’t respond to any cues. The emotional and physical things that happen to your body as it prepares for intimacy were just not happening, so it was literally an impossible act for me to participate in.

I was terrified that I would never be able to sleep with my husband again and that this would eventually cause our relationship to deteriorate beyond repair. I was open with him about my worries from the very beginning and he was incredibly reassuring, but as far as I was concerned, I was going to be like this forever so I took little solace in his attempts to comfort me.

The ‘Aha!’ Moment

But then, one day, almost three years after the first onset of symptoms, my typically clockwork period was five days late and noticeably heavier than usual. Then the following month it was three days early and lighter than usual. And then the penny dropped. Holy shit, it was the menopause.

“Are you fucking kidding me???”?I screamed to no one in particular.

All of this.?ALL. OF. THIS. And it turns out that I’m experiencing something that will affect every woman in some shape or form? Something that was inevitable?

This whole time I thought I was dying when really I was just living??

I was livid. I felt such a sense of injustice that I was left to experience fears that could have been instantly put to rest if our clearly broken system had just prepared me for what was ahead.

The Diagnosis

I immediately made an appointment with a brilliant specialist, Prof. Mark Brincat, and 30 minutes at his clinic undid years of emotional and physical torture. I was diagnosed as perimenopausal and my eyes filled with tears from the sheer relief of it all. Not only was I believed, something I think women subconsciously don’t expect, but I was sympathised with. What I had been experiencing was immediately validated by someone who not only knew what I was going through was biologically possible but who also had a way to fix it.

And he was going to fix it within three weeks.

Hormone Replacement Therapy

Given how severe my symptoms had become, and being lucky enough to live in Malta and afford the private procedure, I was given the convenient HRT implant rather than the gel or hormone replacement pills that are available as standard to women across Europe.

The procedure involved a small incision in my stomach followed by the insertion of two tiny hormone pellets into my belly fat, of which there was ample thanks to all the toast. The whole process took less than 10 minutes and no stitches were needed. I experienced tenderness and swelling in the area for around 10 days, but after two weeks I could ditch the stretchy leggings for my favourite jeans.

Done.

The Comeback

At around the three week mark, I started to notice a change in me. The nightmares were the first thing to stop completely, and I wasn’t getting up to pee in the middle of the night anymore.

Then I noticed my libido had made a dramatic comeback. It was like throwing a match on an unlit bonfire. Suddenly I was 25 again and getting all those butterflies in my stomach when I was around my husband.

When I had zero sex drive, I didn’t want to touch him or flirt with him because I felt it was unfair to lead him on when I couldn’t deliver the goods. It made me realise that losing your libido affects more than just what goes on in the bedroom, it extends its frosty fingers to so many parts of a relationship.

Now I could relax, not overthink anything and just enjoy being around him. We were more affectionate with each other and I was more appreciative of him in general. After the last couple of years of worrying that our relationship was slowly heading in the wrong direction, it was such a relief to realise that we were fine, and that we had always been fine. It was all just the hormones playing tricks on me, which is crazy, really, if you think about it.

My motivation and initiative was next to make a recovery. Although I still find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning, once I’m up, I’m clear headed and ready to take on the day. From making my son’s packed lunch before school, to helping my husband tidy the house (something he had taken full responsibility for whilst I was lost in the fog), and cooking for the family, I am hyper-organised and full of energy to function.

I’ve even begun planning big jobs that I’ve been putting off for years, reorganising kitchen cupboards, clearing out toys and updating my wardrobe of the beige, baggy clothes specifically selected to attract as little attention as possible.

I’ve started to take pride in my appearance again, I wear makeup most days, I’ve sorted my hair out, I’ve discovered jewellery, I put thought into what I’m going to wear every morning. I find it a surprising outlet for my new-found creativity and one that has filled me with the confidence I had been lacking since, well, all the toast.

Speaking of toast, having the energy to cook from scratch and plan my meals has also meant that I’m losing the weight I had gained with zero effort, which in turn has given me more energy and confidence. I’m finally out of the vicious circle; it’s now a delicious circle and I will be making no apologies for that pun.

My ability to write is also returning, a relief that is hard to describe. I’ve been so passionate about everything lately, I’m tripping over myself to express it all. I’ve decided to put off growing my client base back up again and spend a few months writing for me. Getting my writing mojo back is such a big deal, I want to use it without the pressure of deadlines or content briefs. This diary is my first proper blabber for years, can you tell? ??

The Implications

During this whole experience I have had a few people imply that hormone replacement therapy is unnatural. But I like to think that what they’re really saying is that the expectations put on women our age are unnatural. And I completely agree.

During the perimenopause, our bodies are changing, and having gone through it first hand I can assure you that these changes are unwelcome and outwith our control. Yet, we are still expected to have high-flying careers, to be these lusty creatures up for sex a couple of times a week, we are still expected to be high-energy, patient mothers, to cook healthy meals, hit the gym regularly, and be charismatic social butterflies.

Hormone replacement therapy has liberated me from the chains of a natural ageing process that is ABSOLUTELY NOT accommodated in today’s society. It has enabled me to participate, to at least meet the bare minimum of these unrealistic requirements, because when we don’t then we risk losing our income, our friends, our partners, our confidence and our identity.

Telling me to eat better and meditate are the words of someone who has never had to fight the ferocious biology of their own body, and it’s a fast way to get yourself to the top of my shit list.

This whole experience has made me think of all the relationships that have ended unnecessarily as a result of hormonal imbalance. Of the women who have mistaken the menopause symptoms for a loss of love or passion for their partner and walked away. Of the men who, feeling justifiably unwanted, sought affection elsewhere. According to?a study by The Newson Health Menopause Society, 7 in 10 UK women blame the menopause for their divorce. That’s an?insane?number. The pain that these separations cause children and families is immeasurable, so how many of them could be avoided and why aren’t we falling over ourselves to provide the healthcare that would reduce this?

It also made me Google menopause in the workplace, where I discovered a whole host of stats including?this recent report?from the UK parliament which states that women who reported at least one problematic menopausal symptom at the age of 50 were 43% more likely to have left their jobs by the age of 55 and 23% more likely to have reduced their hours. And yet there’s nothing in place to help them pay their bills?

It made me think about the women who have gone through the menopause alone, who didn’t have partners to support them, who perhaps have unrelated mental health issues, financial difficulties, learning difficulties or disabilities. How if life wasn’t easy for you to begin with when something like this hits, how near impossible it would be to cope.

And then I think of these ‘unnatural’ hormones. These bio-identical, smart release, 100% plant-derived little sanity-savers that have brought me back to life within a few weeks. From parenting to partnerships, partying to professionalism, I can’t remember the last time I felt so?naturally?me.

There are a lot of discussions around the risks associated with hormone replacement right now, and I strongly advise anyone to do their research before jumping straight in, but for me, the menopause experience has been so unbearable that even if there is a real risk, I’d still take it. After all, what other choice do I have? Having been on the dark side, when it comes to life I’ll take quality over quantity any day.

Now, time for some well-deserved toast.