Birthdays Hit Different
I’m writing this on Dwaine’s birthday and once we get older, birthdays aren’t exactly thrilling events anymore. We’re not excited about blowing out a forest fire’s worth of candles, and we don’t really want reminders that we’re another year further from our youth. Parties lose their sparkle, and secretly, many of us hope that if nobody mentions it, maybe we can just pretend another year didn’t slip by.
The Struggle Begins
Finding meaning behind this phase of life is something I’ve been processing for a few years now. As someone currently in perimenopause, I’ve had to wrestle through a lot of emotions and questions. And let me say this upfront: I don’t want to heap shame or guilt on anyone who’s had to rely on hormones, pain meds, antidepressants, or surgery. Every female body is different. Every rhythm is different. Every circumstance is different. And sometimes survival looks like taking the help that’s available. Many of us also face real medical issues—cysts, fibroids, polyps, and more—that make the journey even harder. The purpose of sharing my story is to encourage those who share this season with me and also for the ones coming up next, like my daughters and nieces. It's to inform them as to what they can expect and reassure them that the psych ward is not the answer, as tempting as it might be.
When Everything Changed
When the extreme mood swings started—panic attacks, crying at small things, being unable to juggle stress and busyness like before—I truly thought I was losing my mind. You actually feel like a different person is living inside you and her only purpose is to sabotage your existence. Everything about me was shifting, and it felt like nothing was for the better. I fought hard to hang on to the “old me,” obsessed with looking and feeling younger, guilty that I couldn’t keep up, and, underneath it all, angry at God for letting it happen.
My Argument with God
Since my late 40s, my conversations with God have sounded something like this:“Why do you hate women? We go crazy during puberty, carry human beings inside us, crash afterwards, deal with PMS for decades, and then, as if that’s not enough, You hit us with this? Puberty on cocaine!”
I’ve said for years, “My body hates me. Getting old sucks.” And it left me feeling like I was just drifting toward oblivion—expected to sit back, gripe, and watch the next generation make foolish choices for the next 40 years.
The Medical Maze
In the middle of it all, I tried what the doctors suggested. I was given antidepressants but didn’t feel peace about taking them. I was referred to a mental health specialist, but skipped the appointment. I was prescribed hormones, but stopped after a week. I did undergo surgery for fibroids, and when cysts kept forming, the recommended solution was a full hysterectomy. “You don’t need your lady parts anymore anyway—just get rid of them,” they said. And honestly? I reached the point where I almost agreed. I was so frustrated, I just wanted to give up and say, “Fine, rip it all out.”
Grace in the Chaos
But here’s the strange thing: in the middle of my wrestling, the only consistent thing I heard from God was, “My grace is sufficient.” So when my thoughts and emotions felt like they were betraying me, I talked to Him. I went back to the words of Jesus—His teachings about how to live, how to walk, how to trust. And slowly, I realized: “I can do this.” His words became my anchor in the middle of the storm.
A Turning Point
And then something unexpected happened. I stopped asking “why” and simply started trusting that He knew what He was doing in me. And in that surrender, the “why” finally came.
A video popped up in my feed explaining how the Mayan culture views menopause—and it was the complete opposite of how we view it in the West. Their perspective brought me to tears. I realized part of my misery was because I had been believing lies—lies about my identity at 54, lies about my future, my purpose, and my role in society.
And this doesn’t only apply to women. Men walk through their own version of this in andropause.
The Bigger Picture
Here’s the bottom line: we’ve been robbed. Western culture has stripped us of our place as elders, mentors, and guides. Instead of being honored, we’re sidelined. And I can’t help but believe this is intentional—a sinister part of the breakdown of family and community.
But that realization didn’t discourage me—it lit a fire. Want to know what has me so excited? Stay tuned for Part 2 and have a great day!
Acts 17:11
Become a Berean
“They received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day.”
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