The Fog of Fifty: Navigating Perimenopause and Identity

How to cope when your body and mind feel like strangers

Content warning: This post discusses mental health challenges and suicidal ideation associated with perimenopause. If you're sensitive to these topics or struggling, please prioritize your well-being. Remember, help is available. In Canada, you can call 1-833-456-4566 for support.

When I learned I would be going to sunny San Diego for a work conference in May, I did not expect to experience what locals call “The Gray May.” Gray May leads into “June Gloom,” apparently, and this aging Canuck had no clue that they didn’t just mean the weather.

Literally the only sunset we saw, though we faced dead West

But before that set in, I had visions of palm trees, hot sun, and swimming in the ocean surrounded by chill surfer types. I casually mentioned the trip to my high school bestie, who turned 50 later that month. I had a room at a cute beach resort covered by my employer. Would she like to buy a plane ticket and join me for a few days on either side of my work schedule?

In 35 years of friendship that has spanned the globe, 3 kids being born, 2 (TWO!) brain surgeries, and 1 shiny divorce, we had never done a 1:1 trip together. I stayed with her in London and Stockholm when she lived in those cities, but our husbands were with us. I’d been to Paris with her twice, but my sister was there too. We had a hilarious night in Dublin in a group of 5 or 6, but never just us.

I was thrilled she said yes. Despite the grey skies, and the jean jacket and hoodie weather, we had an unbelievably great time. I laughed until my face hurt. We watched Bridgerton in bed while eating Trader Joe’s snacks instead of getting room service. We did the historic trolley tour and laughed at how American cities feel like an amusement park where everything leads to a gift shop. We tried to go to the pool in our swimsuits and wrapped ourselves in towels to stay warm.

Don’t let the sun and palm trees fool you. I am wearing denim over my swimsuit.

When a pistachio shell clamped onto my tongue while I tried to pry it open with my teeth, she did what any real friend would do while I howled—she cried laughing while running around our hotel room, doing absolutely nothing to help. It. Was. The. Best.

After we got back home, life went back to life-ing. She turned 50, and I began prepping for my big birthday. And what I didn’t see coming at all was the grey that rolled in, and I'm not talking about San Diego weather this time.

They say life begins at 50. They forgot to mention it's a whole new life with a body and mind you barely recognize.

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Upon our return from California, a clunky weight set in, both physically and mentally. It felt like being dropped into the deep end of a pool—in the dark, fully clothed, without my glasses. I cried for three weeks straight. I felt desperate and uneasy. I yelled at my kids. I raged at my partner. I was flailing at work. Everything felt like a heavy boulder teetering on a thin wall, about to tip over and smash into pieces.

I. Was. Not. Fine.

What shocked me most was how unprepared I felt. As a coach and self-help enthusiast, I thought I had all the tools to cope with life's challenges. I’ve been through unusually hard things and come out the other side. But perimenopause laughed in the face of my carefully curated coping mechanisms. She slapped me upside the head by allowing the seeds of incessant, unhelpful thoughts to sprout. And those sprouty thoughts quickly got VERY dark.

You thought puberty was fun? Perimenopause was like, “Hold my beer!” I was drowning in my own misery, and while I was sure I knew how to swim, no amount of flapping was getting me back to the surface. I couldn’t explain why I felt like I was literally losing the battle against my mind, but as it turns out:

• I didn't know then that women are 2-4 times more likely to experience depression during perimenopause compared to other times in their lives.

• I wasn't aware that suicide rates for women peak between ages 45-54, often coinciding with perimenopause.

• I hadn't realized that perimenopausal depression can be more severe than depression at other life stages.

The fog was thick, but I refused to let it consume me. This couldn’t go on. Despite all the awful things I’ve gone through, I’ve always been able to pull myself out of depressive episodes. There had to be a way.

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Forever a journalist, I started digging, searching for a way out:

1. Research the shit out of it: I immersed myself in podcasts, particularly Dr. Marie-Claire Haver and Dr. Louise Newson's work, learning that fluctuating estrogen levels during perimenopause are believed to contribute to mood disorders and suicidal ideation.

2. Exploring HRT: After the podcast circuit taught me about all that is wrong with how we treat women’s reproductive health at this stage (SPOILER: they don’t treat it at all), it was time to chat with a pro. I consulted with my naturopath, Dr. Sapna Flower, at Restore Integrative Health to explore HRT options.

   My podcast research brought me to the understanding that many traditional healthcare providers may not recognize the connection between perimenopausal symptoms and mental health issues, leading to underdiagnosis and undertreatment. (This is still a work in progress—I’ll break that down in a future post.)

3. Committing to the thought work daily: When my trusted bodywork wizard pal Christine mentioned how game-changing Roxie Nafousi’s journal and book Manifest were, I bought the audiobook. And it was so much like my old Kickstartology program, just with a heaping dose of self-love reminders. It was a realization that having the tools was one thing. Actually USING the tools (AKA practicing) is where the magic happens.

4. Positive self-brainwashing: Determined to rewire my already sparkly ADHD brain, I started and ended each day with Louise Hay's affirmations on YouTube. Your brain is most malleable right before sleep and as soon as you wake up, so brainwash it with positive self-talk vs. news about our impending doom. It felt silly at first to repeat, “I am the picture of health. I am full of vitality,” etc, but I clung to the hope that I could brainwash my way out of this fog.

5. Therapy and coaching: I joined a new coaching group run by my therapist. I’m doubling down on thought work and self-belief exercises. This was crucial, as I learned that women with a history of depression or severe PMS are at higher risk for perimenopausal depression and suicidal thoughts. So having a community to work things out with, whatever angle you want to dive in from, has been a balm. It makes me feel like I’m working towards something that’s not just a murky abyss.

6. Sleep, little darling, do not cry: I am a toddler brain on the kind of sleep perimenopause has been giving me—sweaty, needing to pee, then ruminating because my mind turned on while I walked 15 steps to the bathroom… No bueno. So I’m learning to prioritize sleep, which is a PROCESS because ADHD brains experience something called “Revenge Bedtime Procrastination.” Go look it up. You probably do this, too. I just do it at the Olympic level.

   
   Not gonna sugarcoat this—it takes a CBN gummy to give me the right amount and kind of sleep at this point in time. Although days where I do a tough workout or also help. I am told that starting on progesterone will super help, but I’m still working out the details of all that. I promise to share my experience as I also know that everyone is different.

7. Recognizing the mind-body connection: I started working with a functional fitness coach, Kate Tunney. (We trade our services with each other. I Life/Business coach her in exchange for training.) I also partnered up with another client of Kate’s who is roughly my age, height, weight, and skill level for extra accountability. Physical movement with the goal of building strength and stamina is slowly becoming my lifeline on days when my mind feels like quicksand.

8. Community care is a must for care tasks: The struggle is the mind telling me I can’t move. Making appointments with people to meet for walks or fitness is the key for me. I’ve stopped fighting it. Leaning on others is what I need to get up. I’ll show up for someone else before I’ll do it just for myself, and while I don’t love that, I’m lucky to have a neighbourhood of folks up for a walk.

Yeah, so… I’ve thrown the kitchen sink at it. I know even this list sounds EXHAUSTING when perimenopause has brought you down. Pick one, and start there until you feel a bit better.

It hasn't been an overnight transformation. Some days, I still feel like that boulder is going to topple. But slowly, surely, I’ve started to see glimpses of light through the fog.

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My therapist suggests that I could re-title/rename things like “aging”—something that should come more naturally to me as a professional writer and a marketer. Focusing on “aging” when my body is listening isn’t helping. She suggested “wisdom,” and I get her point, though I’m not sold. So, if you’ve got a better reframe, please share it in the comments or via email.

What I’ve learned so far in my 50th year here is that:

• Self-care and care tasks are not optional. I need them now more than ever.

• There’s no magical future date when I’ll suddenly have the time to become an athlete (though I suppose anything’s possible). If I don’t start moving now, I’ll have fewer abilities in 20-30 years.

• Community care > self-care. We need to lean on each other and buddy up more than ever at this stage. Need a walk? A Pilates buddy? An accountability partner for writing your newsletter or doing your taxes? Hit me up!

• Self-compassion over everything. Being mean to myself and ignoring my body isn’t helping. I need to gently, lovingly call myself into the present moment, show up for Today Nadine, and coax her into preparing ahead for Future Nadine.

Actionable Advice (because we all need a game plan):

1. Start a "WTF is happening to me?" journal: Track your symptoms, moods, and energy levels. Trust me, when your doctor asks, "So, how often does this happen?" you'll be glad you've got receipts.

2. Find your perimenopause posse: Connect with other women who are also riding this hormonal rollercoaster. Misery loves company, but so does empowerment.

3. Treat sleep like it's your job: Create a bedtime routine that would make a toddler jealous. Your future, less-cranky self will thank you.

Reflection Questions to Chew On (because I'm nosy and want to know what you think):

1. How has hitting your 40s or 50s messed with your head about aging?

2. What's your go-to move for not losing your shit during life's big transitions?

3. How can we stop being jerks to women going through perimenopause at work and, you know, everywhere else?

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Wrapping This Up (because I could go on forever, but you've got a life):

Look, perimenopause isn't just some bullshit phase we have to white-knuckle through. It's a full-on metamorphosis that's forcing us to rethink everything we thought we knew about our bodies, our minds, and how we fit into this mess of a world. It feels lonely as hell sometimes. But remember: there are literally millions of us fumbling through this together.

By spilling our guts, leaning on each other, and demanding better from doctors, employers, and society at large, we can flip the script on aging and women's health. We're not going quietly into that good night, folks. We’re going to demand a good night! (Of sleep, at least.)

Alright, I've shown you mine. Now you show me yours. How are you navigating the fog of fifty and/or perimenopause? Drop your thoughts in the comments, or slide into my DMs if you're feeling shy. Let's keep this conversation going and drag each other through this mess, one hot flash at a time.