Perimenopause Is From the Devil — The Symptoms Nobody Warned Me About

If you are a woman who has entered the glorious season of life known as perimenopause, come sit beside me.

Actually, don't sit too close.

I'm probably hot.

And if you're cold, give me five minutes. I'll probably be cold too.

Welcome to the Perimenopause Diaries. 😂

This isn't my first trip into the perimenopause trenches. You can read my original Perimenopause Is From the Devil story here.

If you've already survived this season, I salute you. You are one of the golden elders, and the rest of us would like to know exactly when this ends.

If you haven't gotten here yet, keep reading anyway.

Consider this your warning.

Because nobody warned me.

And ladies...

SOMEBODY SHOULD HAVE WARNED ME.

The Night Sweats Started First

For me, this story actually started years ago.

After having my youngest child, I started experiencing night sweats.

And when I say "night sweats," I don't mean waking up with a slightly clammy forehead.

Oh no.

I'm talking saturated sheets.

Puddles.

Waking up wondering if someone dumped a bucket of water in the bed.

Standing outside in freezing weather because apparently Mother Nature's air conditioning was the only one strong enough for the job.

I was told my hormones were just balancing themselves out after having a baby.

Ladies...

Those hormones apparently lost the directions to "balanced" because I'm still waiting.

For years, I simply accepted poor sleep and waking up hot as part of life.

Then somewhere around my mid-40s...

Things really started heating up.

Literally.

Then My Metabolism Apparently Packed Its Bags

Let me paint a picture of pre-perimenopause Amy.

I exercised.

I drank water.

I tried to eat reasonably well.

And then one morning I woke up and apparently my metabolism had submitted its resignation without giving me two weeks' notice.

My pants didn't fit.

I stepped on the scale.

Five pounds.

Okay.

"I'm bloated."

Another five pounds arrived.

Then another.

Excuse me?

I CHANGED NOTHING.

I was drinking so much water my pee looked like it came directly from a mountain spring.

So, naturally, I went to the doctor.

I was told that as we age, metabolism can change and maintaining muscle becomes increasingly important.

Wonderful.

So I followed the advice I was given.

Diet.

Exercise.

More attention to what I was eating.

And my body basically responded:

That's adorable.

Bloodwork came back normal.

NORMAL?!

Ma'am, I am standing here telling you I feel like an alien has taken possession of my body.

Nothing about this feels normal.

That became one of the most frustrating parts of this season for me—not simply the physical changes, but feeling as though I couldn't explain what was happening inside my own body.

Why Am I Crying?

Then came the emotions.

I've always considered myself a pretty patient person.

I love people.

I love helping people.

I love encouraging people.

My faith is incredibly important to me, and I've always wanted the people around me to experience the love of Jesus through the way I treat them.

And then perimenopause showed up.

Suddenly I was crying about EVERYTHING.

Commercial?

Crying.

Something sweet?

Crying.

Something sad?

Definitely crying.

Someone breathing slightly too loudly in my general vicinity?

We're going to need to pray about it.

I began experiencing anxiety in a way I hadn't before.

There were days at work when I needed to step away for a few minutes simply to breathe and regroup.

And I started craving something I had never craved this much before:

Alone time.

When I Stopped Wanting to "People"

I used to love crowds.

Live music.

Dinner with friends.

Being around people energized me.

Then suddenly, after being around people all day at work, the idea of voluntarily being around MORE PEOPLE sounded absolutely exhausting.

I'd come home, go to my room, turn on Netflix and ignore my phone.

And I liked it.

That quiet became my peace.

Eventually I realized something:

Sometimes I didn't want to go anywhere.

I didn't want to talk.

I didn't want to answer questions.

I didn't want to "people."

Apparently perimenopause had turned me into someone whose love language was:

Please leave me alone for approximately 48 hours.

😂

And then there was traffic.

Once upon a time, someone would cut me off and I'd think:

"Maybe they're rushing to the hospital. Lord, keep them safe."

Perimenopause Amy?

"JESUS, YOU BETTER TAKE THIS WHEEL."

Because apparently sanctification gets considerably more difficult when you're having a hot flash.

Hot. Cold. Hot Again.

Getting dressed for work became its own Olympic event.

Jacket on.

Jacket off.

Sweater on.

Sweater OFF IMMEDIATELY.

Am I freezing?

Yes.

Am I sweating?

Also yes.

How?

I don't know.

At this point, I stopped asking questions.

I just started dressing in layers like I was preparing to experience all four seasons before lunch.

And Then Came the Brain Fog

Ohhhhh, the brain fog.

Ladies.

This isn't:

"I walked into the kitchen and forgot why."

I wish.

This is forgetting WORDS.

Normal everyday words you've used your entire life.

I was at work one day having a conversation with my work bestie when, right in the middle of a sentence...

My brain stopped.

The next word was simply gone.

She looked at me with her head tilted and asked:

"Are you okay?"

And all I could say was:

"Words."

That's it.

Words.

I CAN'T WORDS.

😂

I knew there was supposed to be another word.

My brain knew there was supposed to be another word.

Apparently nobody had informed my mouth.

Eventually I just gave up.

And if you're currently reading this thinking, "YES! THIS HAPPENS TO ME!"

Come here.

You're my people.

The Hardest Part Wasn't the Hot Flashes

Here's where I'm going to get serious for a minute.

The hardest part of perimenopause hasn't necessarily been the sweating.

Or the weight.

Or forgetting words.

It has been looking in the mirror sometimes and thinking:

Who is this woman?

My body changed.

My emotions changed.

My energy changed.

Things I enjoyed changed.

Even the way I wanted to spend my time changed.

And nobody had prepared me for the emotional part of realizing:

I don't completely recognize myself anymore.

That's hard.

Especially when you're still expected to show up.

For work.

For your family.

For your marriage.

For your friends.

For church.

For LIFE.

You're still you...

but you're learning a new version of you.

And I think more women need permission to say:

This season is hard.

Without feeling guilty.

Without feeling dramatic.

And without someone immediately trying to fix us.

Sometimes we just need another woman to say:

"Girl. ME TOO."

So Where Does God Fit Into All of This?

Right here.

In the middle of it.

I've learned that God doesn't require me to have everything together before I come to Him.

He isn't intimidated by my emotions.

He's not disappointed because I'm tired.

He's not standing there shaking His head because I forgot what I walked into the room for.

Again.

God's love for me hasn't changed because my body has.

And neither has my value.

That's something I've needed to remind myself of during this season.

Because when your body feels unfamiliar and your emotions feel unpredictable, it's easy to start believing you've somehow lost the woman you used to be.

Maybe we haven't lost her.

Maybe we're simply meeting the woman we're becoming.

And God already knows her.

Let's Talk About It

One of the things that has helped me most is talking to other women.

Seriously.

We need to TALK ABOUT THIS.

Because every time I've shared something embarrassing, frustrating or downright ridiculous about perimenopause, another woman has said:

"WAIT. YOU TOO?!"

And suddenly neither of us feels quite as crazy.

That's why I'm continuing the Perimenopause Diaries.

We're going to talk about the brain fog.

The exhaustion.

The vitamins taking over the kitchen counter.

The snap-crackle-pop when we get out of bed.

The doctor appointments.

The hot flashes.

The emotional days.

And those moments when we look in the mirror and wonder exactly when our mothers started staring back at us.

We're going to talk about the hard stuff.

But we're also going to laugh.

A LOT.

Because sometimes laughter is the thing that reminds us:

We're going to be okay.

One Important Note

I'm sharing my personal experience with perimenopause—not giving medical advice.

Bodies are different, symptoms can have many causes, and what works for one woman may not be appropriate for another. If you're experiencing new, severe or concerning symptoms, please talk with a qualified healthcare professional. The same goes for medications, hormones, vitamins and supplements.

What I can tell you with complete confidence is this:

You don't have to go through this season silently.

Find women you trust.

Talk about it.

Ask questions.

Advocate for yourself.

And give yourself some grace while you're figuring it out.

From Surviving to Living Well

That's really what Living Well with Amy is becoming about.

Not pretending every season is wonderful.

Not slapping a Bible verse over something difficult and pretending it doesn't hurt.

And definitely not pretending we have everything figured out.

It's about learning to find God, grace, humor and hope right in the middle of real life.

Even perimenopause.

So hang in there, ladies.

I'm told this eventually passes by the golden elders who have lived to tell the tale.

Until then...

We'll keep showing up.

We'll keep talking.

We'll keep laughing.

We'll keep praying.

And we'll keep reminding one another that we're not alone.

Because we're not just trying to survive this season.

We're learning how to LIVE WELL through it.

And if today isn't a particularly "living well" kind of day?

That's okay too.

We'll try again tomorrow.

I love you.

I might not like anybody very much during my next hot flash...

but I love you. 😂❤️

— Amy

Living Well with Amy

*P.S. If you're somewhere in the perimenopause trenches with me, tell me in the comments: What's the ONE symptom nobody warned you about? Your story might just make another woman feel a little less alone.