Maria, Age: 54
My Story
I found my old work lanyard in a drawer the other week, the one from when I ran a team of twelve and had a diary that looked like a game of Tetris. I held it for a while, half expecting to feel a sense of loss. Instead I just felt curious, like I was looking at a photo of someone I used to know well but hadn’t spoken to in years.
For a long time after I stepped back from that job, I kept trying to be her. The organised one, the one who remembered everyone’s birthday, who never let a ball drop, who could run on four hours’ sleep and still chair a meeting by nine. I told myself I just needed to find my rhythm again, that this new slower version of me was temporary, a phase to push through.
But my body had other plans. I’d wake up at 3 am and just lie there, wired and exhausted at the same time. My concentration, which used to be practically a personality trait, started slipping through my fingers. I’d walk into rooms and lose the thread of why. I’d read the same page of a book three times.
I fought it for months. I bought a bigger diary. I set more alarms. I drank more coffee, then couldn’t sleep, then needed more coffee. I was trying to out-organise something that had nothing to do with organisation.
It was my daughter, of all people, who said something that stopped me in my tracks. She said, “Mum, you don’t have to keep proving you’re fine.” I hadn’t realised that’s what I’d been doing.
The Appointment That Finally Made Me Feel Heard: A Perimenopause Story | FemPhases
Looking Back
I think I was scared that if I stopped being the capable one, I’d disappear. So much of how I saw myself was built on being useful, being on top of things, being the person others leaned on. When my energy and focus started to change, I read it as a personal failing rather than a natural shift.
Looking back, I wasn’t losing myself. I was being asked to meet a different version of myself, one who needed more rest, more quiet, more honesty about her limits. I just didn’t recognise her yet.
What Helped Me
Slowing down my mornings made a real difference, even just fifteen minutes with tea before anyone needed anything from me. It sounds small, but it gave me a bit of ground to stand on before the day started asking things of me.
I also started being more honest with people close to me, saying things like “I’m running on empty today” instead of pretending otherwise. That was harder than it should have been, but it changed how people treated me, in a good way.
Moving my body gently helped too, walking mostly, nothing dramatic. I stopped chasing the workouts I used to do and started doing what actually felt good, which turned out to be a much shorter list than I expected, and a much kinder one.
What I Wish I’d Known
I wish I’d known sooner that this wasn’t about willpower. I spent so long thinking if I just tried harder, I’d get “back to normal.” I wish someone had told me there is no back, only forward into a version of myself I hadn’t met yet.
I also wish I’d known that letting go of the old version of me wasn’t a defeat. It felt like one at the time. It doesn’t feel like one now.
Reflection
I still have that lanyard. I keep it in the drawer, not out of memories exactly, more as a small nod to who I was and what she managed. But I’m not trying to be her anymore. I’m getting to know the woman who replaced her, and so far, I rather like her company.
Every woman’s experience is different. This story is shared to help others feel less alone and is not intended to replace professional medical advice.
