The End
Postmenopause is not what I expected
“Midlife is not a crisis. Midlife is an unraveling.” —Brené Brown
A few months ago, there was a day that marked one year since my last period. Prior to this anniversary, marked on my calendar with a series of red exclamation points, I imagined it would be special, somehow. I envisioned a celebration, a shedding of shackles, and a popping of corks. I kept a bottle of better-than-everyday bubbles in the back fridge for months, just in case I made it to 12. I’d seen a bloodless four months before and, once, five — but, always, it returned. I stopped counting for awhile, assuming I’d be stuck in a loop of hormones forever. Or until death, at least.
The fantasy was a party, of sorts. Champagne and sugar, snappy appetizers, and croony tunes. A slinky new dress, or a cashmere wrap. Comfort and minor decadence. Nothing shouty, just a big fat celebratory sigh of relief.
The reality was a gray January day, quiet and boring in just the right way. By the time I made it to day 365, the best approach seemed stealth. A sneaky tiptoe past the monster that had finally slept for one whole year.
MedicineNet provides this definition:
Menopause is defined as the time when there has been no menstrual periods for 12 consecutive months and no other biological or…
