Tag: menopause

I’m doing everything, why do I still feel like s**t?

Posted on by Leora Leboff
This piece is an act of loving arms being wrapped around those who are in midlife, and when all is stripped back, are having an effing hard time.
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The raw reality of shit hitting fan, and a feeling of no way to reach the off button.
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To those who are eating for health, meditating, Yoga Nidra-ing, resting, connecting to joy and pleasure, slowing down, using breathwork, taking herbs, homeopathy, tapping into creativity, maybe in therapy,  perhaps having regular body treatments…but the struggle is still painfully real.
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Those who are finding midlife incredibly challenging, but balk at hashtags such as  #menopausesucks.
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No, you hold the firm belief that menopause is a time of growth and education about ourselves, and that as we age we are not driven by the continuous Western patriarchal narrative, that we must hold on to our younger selves. As our older selves are worth that much less. Those who have no desire to cling on to youth and oestrogen as the route to vitality. Those who embrace the saggy parts of us, the grey hairs, the wrinkles that speak volumes about our lived experience. Yet, despite these firmly held values on ageing, are still ticking the symptomatic boxes of perimenopause and menopause (medically speaking).
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You’ve read the best books (and there are some brilliant reads out there at the moment), limited your social media to inspiring voices on midlife and menopause, with perhaps a fantasy that health and wellness will ease into your psyche, because the positive narrative about the menopause experience is the way to stay empowered and healthy. But it’s not actually a reality for you. A positive message IS a great thing, but bypassing reality when you’re in the middle of a shitstorm may only help on a surface level.
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You may align yourself to the energies of the moon, the seasons, choose crystals to pop in your bra (if you can still handle wearing one), notice when planets are in retrograde, connect to guardian angels, have faith that Spirit and the Universe have your back, or maybe a religious belief gives you equal comfort. Maybe you’re EFT-ing, EMDR-ing, TRE-ing. Perhaps there are breakthroughs, releases, yet…there is no real let up to your physical or mental health challenges.
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I’ve studied, taught, actively share the positivity around cycle awareness, work deeply with the Menstrual Seasons, co-developed the Life Seasons model which is right there in print, in the wonderful Secong Spring by Kate Codrington, supported others to have empowering menstrual and menopause experiences, extolled the powers of midlife, raised womb wisdom awareness, and personally, I’ve been ‘doing the work’ continuously for many many years.
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In collapse

Yet, I find myself in perimenopause, in collapse. Some would call it burn-out. The fan is still flinging shit around, which honestly is the last thing you need during a hot flush or night sweat.
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What this looks like for me is a ramping up of symptoms of ME/CFS, fibromyalgia, PoTS or a similar form of dysautonomia, IBS and various gastric funnies, possibly adenomyosis (the pain is horrifically real…), PMDD, ADHD.
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HRT is not an option, due to hypersensitivity when introducing hormones into my body, or any medication for that matter.
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This info isn’t shared for sympathy, it’s really not. Please don’t let your head do a sympathetic side tilt.  It’s simply a statement of fact and where I am right now.
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I’ve looked for a voice on social media that is aligned to where I am in this cauldron of perimenopause, but haven’t quite found a fit.
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I’m not sure if I have the energy right now to become that voice, which makes this single blog post, a holler of appreciation, recognition and allyship.
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As an act of deep kindness to myself, I deleted all the socials from my phone last year, and took a three month break from the ‘noise’. When I returned, I stayed hidden and not engaging, while I eased myself back in for a few months. This gave me a chance to observe, ignore and often rage!

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Polarised menopause

Witnessing the polarised output when it comes to perimenopause and menopause is infuriating and heart breaking.
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In one corner of the ring there’s HRT as a cure-all. Without it, we’ll all crumble and die an awful death, if we don’t keep our oestrogen/progesterone/testosterone topped up. The message that we must retain our oestrogenic youth, or else we’ll end up on the forgotten heap, mainly because menopause is a medical condition that requires fixing. There are few words in this corner on the subject of lifestyle to care for yourself in midlife.
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I am in no way against the use of HRT, I have seen it support the menopause journey, and it’s hugely important that we have choice in our menopause care. It’s simply the message that everyone who is in menopause must take it or else you’re done for, I find hard to swallow.
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In the opposite corner of the ring is the message of empowerment through aging proudly and powerfully. Possibly, but certainly not always, without HRT. The declaration in this corner is that menopause is a life-affirming time, definitely not a medical issue to be diagnosed, rather, a rite of passage like menarche, our first bleed. A time when we may feel as though everything is falling apart, but we must listen to the messages coming through, to enable us to enter post menopause, Second Spring, a renewed version of ourselves.
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Although my hat falls to this side of the ring, sometimes there’s not enough space given for the struggles that are real. There’s a slight undercurrent of failure if you’re not getting on top of those physical, mental and soulful struggles that show up in midlife. Or maybe that’s my inner critic grumbling away. Perhaps, when the message is only that of menopause positivity, it becomes a bit othering. It’s not always easy to truly feel positive about menopause when that shit-storm is raging.
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What it looks like on the ground

I’m 52, with a cycle that is more regular than ever in my life. There are clear changes; shorter bleed time and much less bleeding. I feel the diminishing nature of my blood. I’m ovulating, early, regularly and with vigour, which as the months and years build, I feel a sigh of disappointment escape when I see the ovulatory mucus arrive.
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The disappointment is directly linked to the extreme pain I experience while I’m bleeding. My womb is happy place and she bleeds peacefully, the agony I experience is in my groin – an odd and disconcerting area of pain to navigate. I don’t think medically I’ll ever get an answer, but the intensity is how endometriosis or adenomyosis is described. A couple of months ago I named this pain Cujo to help me connect with the rabid dog-style of agony I experience. There’s nuance to my feelings around my cycle. Yes, I am immersed in the beauty of menstrual cycle awareness and loving my cycle, while also knowing that I’m guaranteed to be in a distressing amount on pain, and all that’s brought with it (nausea, not knowing where to put my body, no escape, etc). I’d be lying to say that this pain is an empowering experience. No, it’s a traumatic experience.
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Symptoms of the ME/CFS and fibromyalgia all intensify in the build up to bleeding. I have to acknowledge what I’m not capable of doing for a week before and during my bleed. That’s on top of the ‘normal’ rest encouraged with the practice of cycle awareness and menopause self-care.
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In reality it’s a perfect storm. Perimenopause, ME/CFS and Fibromyalgia, plus the number of “friends” it brings with it (PoTs/dysautonomia, gastric issues, etc), and ADHD, and whatever is causing Cujo to bear it’s rabid teeth. It’s important to say, for those of us who have a ‘shopping list’ of conditions, it’s no coincidence. Something is happening systemically for all this to show up. I’ll talk about that later.
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I have no clue what my body will be doing once my menstrual cycle has stopped, and there’s no more rise and fall of oestrogen, progesterone and pals. In all honesty it’s a scary thought…can things get any worse?
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How I resource myself in these muddy and challenging waters?

Through my search for ways to ease ME/CFS, it’s become crystal clear that trauma, a combo of early developmental trauma, birth trauma, developmental trauma, ancestral trauma, shock trauma, and long term stress, has put me into a deep state of fight, flight (ADHD) and freeze (ME/CFS, fibro). The collapse I talked of earlier.
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When fight, flight AND freeze are heightened, our bodies and minds will shout out with the syndromal conditions that are on my ‘shopping list’ (seriously, I’m ready for a refund).
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As these traumas have been held in my nervous system, unknowingly, without the healing amount of loving care and attention needed, all parts of me are now calling out to be nurtured in a different way.
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I am currently placing a huge amount of trust in the depth of work I’m doing to regulate my sympathetic nervous system, and thaw out my deeply frozen parasympathetic nervous system.
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Holding the belief that entering the menopause phase, the Life Season of Winter, with a more regulated nervous system, feels the kindest way I can nurture myself.
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We can cognitively work with our nervous system, which I’ve done for eons. I choose to be in nature as often as possible, eat foods that bring me joy as well as health, laugh with friends and family, self-pleasure, sing…you’ll have your own list of nervous system calmers. But I’m learning that these serve more as resources, rather than having a lasting impact on the dysregulation. It’s the reason why all the herbs, homeopathy, self-care, self-compassion, food for health, etc, have not really made a dent in the health challenges I experience. Instead they have only spiralled downwards the further I head towards menopause.
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There are many great somatic, polyvagal, nervous system teachers out there. I found a teacher who really spoke to me when I heard her say that she doesn’t ask her students and clients what their trauma experience has been. Just how it’s showing up for them in their nervous system. We can get bogged down in story and identity when we’ve experienced trauma. Her work came from a different, more liberating angle, and in the months I’ve been doing the work I can see definite signs of regulation and thawing taking place. It’s very early days though, and the neurosensory exercises and knowledge are there to be integrated into life, not just for the short term.
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If you feel drawn to this particular teacher, her name is Irene Lyon and she has a ton of free resources on YouTube and via her website.
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I’m also under the care of the Optimum Health Clinic for nutrition and psychology coaching. The clinic only works with folk who have ME/CFS, fibromyalgia and would also be of support to Long Covid.
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Community

We can’t do this alone.
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Yet it can be hard to find allies who really understand each of our unique journeys with perimenopause and menopause, to feel really heard.
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I co-hold a space on Facebook with Kate Codrington, a group called Woman Kind, and it’s a true balm to the polarisation of social media midlife narrative. We hold space to simply drop your bundle and share. No judgement, no advice unless asking for some, just support from a courageous, down to earth and beautiful-souled group of folk. We usually keep the group closed and private, only opening up membership (no charge, it’s the best unpaid job in the world) about once a year.
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Right now, we’re open to new community members, closing the doors again on 21st May 2023 if you’d love to join.
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Our menopause challenges, if we have them, are so individual and can leave us incredibly lonely; yet we find common themes that allow us to know we don’t have to travel this path alone.
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Personally, I’m here with a virtual hand on your back, and an extra nod of understanding if your journey in any way mirrors mine.
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The Power of NOT Pushing Through

The Power of NOT Pushing Through

Posted on by Leora Leboff

A year ago today, I consciously took a step off a path.

Not a metaphorical path, but a real-life path, in a small field, in a town called Petworth in West Sussex.

I remember clearly making the choice, choosing to place my left foot on the grass next to the path. In that split second, it felt like a harmless step to take. In actual fact, the grass was hiding a dip and I went over horribly hard on my ankle.  I collapsed in a dramatic heap like a Premier League football player, asking my husband to keep my legs raised, to stop myself passing out!

Despite the enormous swelling, I told myself it was just a sprain and had convinced myself that ice, elevation, a Tubigrip bandage, rest for a few days and a shit load of turmeric would be enough for me to push on through with my busy life.

Oh dear!

It took weeks to reach the point of finding out that I had actually ruptured a ligament, and there was some form of tendon damage. And now, a year on, I’m eight weeks post-ankle surgery, after needing a ligament clean-up and a tendon repair.

OK, what’s all this got to do with perimenopause?

There is no doubt that this past year has been hugely challenging and I spent time pondering this morning on reaching a year of reduced and at some points no mobility. I reflected on how much grief it has brought up, how my self-worth has been brought into question, how much I’ve had to say no to, how much my life has been forced to slow down. And, bearing in mind I teach self-care, how high imposter syndrome has piled up!

That perimenopause link?

Well, the societal push in all things menstrual, in perimenopause and menopause is to carry on regardless. You’ve seen the adverts – it’s suggested you don’t stop, but instead ramp it up and maybe choose your bleed as the perfect time to hop on that zip wire! The precept is – do not listen to what your body and psyche are asking of you, instead push on through, and that’s where you’ll prove your strength and sense of worth.

Holland & Barrett recently ran a Me.No.Pause campaign, which personally made my blood boil. What an amazing opportunity for growth missed by suggesting we do not pause and explore ourselves at this time of transition.

Of course, I wouldn’t dream of speaking for all, as the menopause transition can be an energising time for some who are strongly pulled towards action, rather than rest and reflection. But, from the many years of working with women, there is a HUGE call and need to slow down, allowing the richness of menopause to be experienced.

You see, waxing lyrical about listening to your needs and resting in menstrual and peri/menopause terms is effortless. But what happened when faced with pausing and listening in another guise? I didn’t, and that has been the greatest lesson.

My surgeon reminded me that it’s been necessary for this operation to make my ankle much worse than before the surgery, but by taking the recovery really slowly and carefully, I would heal stronger than before.

Isn’t it the perfect analogy for perimenopause?

Perimenopause is a time when it can feel as though we’re losing our marbles, our fertility, our youthful body. A time when we face grief, questioning self-worth, at times questioning everything.  This opportunity we’re given at perimenopause is to sift out what isn’t serving us in our life, realising it’s ok and necessary say “no” more often, and for allowing ourselves to slow down and really listen to how our body and psyche is asking us to respond.

I’ve spent much of the past year looking for the message this injury has given me, knowing perimenopause was there in the picture, simply because of having to completely change the pace of my life.

Post surgery has been a perfect storm of having an area that carries the entire weight of the body operated on and being deep in perimenopausal void space.

For weeks after the surgery, apart from being physically immobile, my mind went into almost complete immobility too! I couldn’t concentrate on reading or writing, watching hours of tv, but couldn’t tell you about what I’d seen. Everything stopped, except my emotions. They were, and continue to be on high alert. Barely a day has gone by without emotions being pricked in one way or another. There have been tears aplenty! There it has been, facing the grief simply because that’s all I can do.

The challenge is always to keep listening.

I was guided to take 12 weeks off work for recovery, but it turns out that wasn’t realistic, and realising that my ‘surgery sabbatical” would have to be extended, sent me into a tail spin. My response was ridiculous, the next day, rather than pace myself, as advised, I decided to up my movement, cook for the family, do chores that I had, by necessity, let others take care of for the past 7 weeks, go for the longest “walk” since the operation…and what did my body tell me? To slow the fuck down, remember sister, you’re being asked to stop!

The real truth about menopause is to listen to our needs harder and closer than we ever have in our life. There is a second, wisdom spring of life to revel in post menopause. Journeying to the other side of the transition, by listening with grace and kindness.

Having witnessed women travel through their menopause this way; listening to the manifestations (aka symptoms) and hearing what they are being asked to tend to. It is as empowering as it gets.

Not attending to our needs, that’s when we get tripped up.

The power of NOT pushing through. No, it’s not a trope we often hear, but it serves us completely at perimenopause to celebrate slowing down and only doing what feeds our soul.

So happy injury-versary to me, and all the perimenopausal teachings I have been gifted with along the way.

If you are in your 40s or 50s  and perimenopause is on your radar, join us for our Woman Kind online retreat Am I Going Mad? from 1st-14th July. Exploring the messiness of it all in virtual circle.

The Perimenopausal Solo Traveller

The Perimenopausal Solo Traveller

Posted on by Leora Leboff

In her midlife, every woman deserves a chance to go travelling alone; just to test the possibility of rolling with “fuck it”

Phase of separation

The teachings of Red School tell us that there are psycho-spiritual phases of menopause that we move through. This knowledge is gold, and a way to keep us anchored and sane on the uneasy path of midlife shifting. The first phase we enter in perimenopause, is the chamber of separation.

What does that look like? Probably the most disquieting time of the menopause journey, because the call to be separate from, well, sometimes everyone and everything, can be extraordinarily strong.

Solo travel opportunity

This summer I was blessed to have had the opportunity to travel to Bali and Australia. The trip to Bali was to complete my teacher training in Womb and Fertility Massage Therapy. Then on to Australia to spend time with my beloved aunt and cousins. Circumstance meant that I was to be travelling alone, as my family wasn’t able to join me on my adventures.

As I hugged my darling ones tight at the airport, and walked through passport control, this midlife traveller was oozing excitement. The prospect of heading to the other side of the world, only having to look out for myself, was actually quite exquisite. I was fully embracing separation.

Easeful in separation

Travelling while in the phase of separation felt utterly easeful. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s needs but my own.

Flying to the other side of the world and back did, of course, mean spending time in the company of the same group of people for an entire day each way. But, I was able create my own travel bubble, so that I would only chat if I wanted to. In reality, “fuck it” I really didn’t want to! Small talk with those around me was kept to a minimum.

The freedom was there to observe parents, often with an exhausted look in their eye, as they had to navigate the challenges of long-haul travel with their little ones.

Before perimenopause, the yells of other’s young children would have yanked at my heartstrings, but with perimenopause, there’s a shift. “Fuck it”. There’s no need to take on the screams and yells of the intensity the children felt at take-off and landing; I knew they were safe in their parents’ arms. I was simply able to offer the parents a supportive nod and understanding smile.

Mapping out my own space in the small, tight environment of an economy class plane seat even felt unproblematic. Sitting next to a couple of women chatting about Love Island, again I could phase it out and concentrate on my book, choose a film, do a bit of writing. “Fuck it”, there was an element of joy connected to only choosing self-care. Just to switch on relaxing meditative music to drown out the constant rushing sound of the aeroplane so I could try and sleep, was bliss. There was no call to think of anyone else’s sleep needs.

Travelling through I don’t know how many time zones, and only having to take care of my own discombobulation was a huge relief. The brain fog of perimenopause was going through several multiples of intensity. Could I have taken on anyone else’s jet lag? Phew, I didn’t have to!

Vulnerability

That said, I was travelling with an injury, which pricked at my vulnerability. Severe ligament and tendon damage to my ankle, meant a countdown to whether or not travel was even going to be possible. The vulnerability sat in opening myself up to accepting assistance at each airport.

The experience of sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed around by various strangers, was a true lesson in surrender. Surrender is the next chamber of menopause after separation. This meant dipping my toe quite deeply in this phase.

Not simply the practicalities of surrendering to my inability to walk long distances, but to the vulnerability that I found myself steeped in. The discomfort of being in a wheelchair was immense. Accepting help in this way, when in my heart surely I’m an independent, vibrant and very mobile person. It was a challenge.

The wonder and upside of airport assistance, though, was being whizzed through customs and passport control at each of the eight flights I took!

Of course, there was the physical side of perimenopause; the odd hot flush, interesting experience on a plane; insomnia; aches and pains; and a crazy-ass short 18 day cycle, all came with me on my travels. But I could breathe through each menopause manifestation, without having to concern myself with anyone else.

Nervous? Me? I don’t think so

Before I went away, a male friend asked me if I was nervous about going? I was quite shocked to be asked this question. Would he have asked my husband the same question? Did I give the impression that travelling alone was going to be a nerve-wracking experience? Was it a misogynistic expectation that I needed a man to make me feel safe when I travel? Was it other women he knew who may have been genuinely nervous about travelling alone, being projected on to me?

Was I nervous? Absolutely not. Even with the injury, I was only excited. “Fuck it” hey, we have Whats App and Facetime to stay in touch with loved ones now! Separation was firmly holding me.

While in Bali, as my fellow sisters gathered for our Womb and Fertility Massage teacher training, we did experience a few of the earthquakes that claimed far too many lives in Lombok. As the effects of the earthquakes emerged and the number of lives lost rose, my soul was rocked. But during the earthquakes, there was a definite feel of “fuck it” in me. If my life was going to end, what a beautiful place to transition; surrendering to mortality.

Gratitude

I would absolutely love to go back to Bali with my husband and children. For a different experience of family togetherness in a country that took my heart. And without the support of my husband, who took over full parenting while I was away, I could not have taken the trip, and for that I will always be grateful. But the gift of travelling while in the phase of separation was truly liberating, and an experience I will treasure as part of my menopause journey.

Perimenopause Unwrapped

To explore your own perimenopause journey through a self-directed program, Perimenopause Unwrapped is available to dive in.

Blessings