Menopause: My Personal Journey

Menopause arrived late for me (at 57 years old), after a long stretch of feeling almost invincible. I’ve lived an active, fast-moving life — youthful skin, thick hair down to my waist, a body that has always kept up with my ambitions. I sleep deeply, even when life is heavy, and I’ve never thought twice about waking at 5.30am on dark winter mornings for HIIT Pilates or hot yoga before a full day of work, the gym, and then building my start-up late into the night.

So how am I meant to make space for brain fog, for fatigue, for a mind that feels dimmer after one bad night’s sleep? And worse — will I lose the physicality that brings me so much joy? My knees are already troublesome; will bone changes make everything harder? Oh menopause! I’ve heard scary tales of suffering and a life diminished.

In those sobering moments, the word HRT — Hormone Replacement Therapy — drifts into my mind. 

Supporters say it with conviction: with HRT, your hormones don’t fall off a cliff. You glide more gently into the next chapter.

But I’ve always been a natural sort of woman. I avoid painkillers. I don’t wear makeup. So can I really imagine myself on a daily pill routine for the next decade? I am too forgetful too, having been used to rushing out of the door every morning 10 minutes after I wake up. 

And then there’s the insistent whisper from my cautious self: what about putting things into my body, changing the hormones, shifting the chemistry I’ve always allowed to be free? Not what I would do lightly, after a lifetime of being ‘natural’.

This is my journey that leads to my decision to go on HRT.