Perimenopause Isn’t Fun When You’re Alone – So Why Not Make It a Party? | Nina Lansbury
Taboos are funny animals. No one invites them, but they hold back some of the conversations we need to have the most. I’ve found that having the courage to break taboos and say a few bold words can open the floodgates for much-needed dialogue.
So I found myself sitting by the fire in the backyard with a bunch of “50-something” girlfriends, laughing our heads off at the quirkiness of our aging ovaries and uteruses, while offering Bloody Marys and deviled eggs (get it? Our eggs are bad…). This was my first PPP – a “Peri/meno Pause Party.”
To rewind a bit, I am a public health academic who works on women’s issues, including menstruation and related sexual and reproductive health. This means that I deliver educational sessions to teenage boys and girls. I am the one who sometimes gives the first direct information they ever receive about menstruation, puberty and safe sex.
There is a tense moment when the class changes. Awkward whispers between the children change to where honesty reigns, euphemisms are banished and direct questions take over.
It’s an honor to create that space with and for my students. Yet, as a 49-year-old woman, I realized that I wasn’t challenging the taboos of fertility-related issues in my own life. As my friends began whispering about their hot flashes, increasing anxiety, and chronic insomnia, I came up with a plan to change that: the PPP.
So I sent the invitation, trying not to think about it too much. It went something like this:
Are you feeling grumpy, losing sleep and wondering why we women don’t talk about the Big Change anymore? It’s time to change that! Come to our Peri/meno Pause Party! It’s meant to be a fun and safe place to share conversations with a bit of humor so we can all gain a little more knowledge and a sense of solidarity. It’s a little taboo-breaking, but sisterhood-building… and I hope you’ll consider joining us!
The result was that a few brave friends and neighbors said yes, showed up with themed food (think borscht and black pudding) and then spent three hours in depth chatting by the fireside, sharing hormone tips (Who’s on HRT? How much and which? Is it body-safe? Are your breasts swelling up like you’re pregnant again? How long did it take for it to work for you? OMG, I love it; I can sleep again!).
We compared the contrasting medical advice we had both received (I got the prescription from my GP; how come you were referred to a gynaecologist? I was told I was too young so they put me on the pill – but I wanted to keep the option of a baby open! What and how much do these doctors learn about menopause in medical school?!).
We shared the podcasts and books we were turning to in our respective silences (Louise Newson! Kaz Cooke’s It’s the Menopause! Woman on Fire!). The diversity of information was discussed (Is this why I don’t feel as capable at work anymore? Did I gain more weight because of the 3pm chocolate to keep me up earlier or because of the bloating after HRT? Why is it that I just don’t feel like the me I used to be or want to be anymore?!).
We wondered what our mothers were going through (we never felt like we could ask them). And we laughed – a lot – at the disaster and chaos of it all: strange waking hours, fantasies about yelling at those annoying coworkers, radical menstrual cycles of 11, then 42, then 67 days.
As the moon rose and our conversation flowed, we felt empowered and happy for sharing and learning. This moment in time showed how motivated women are to talk about those beastly taboos that have silenced us for generations. Perimenopause is no fun to do alone, so why not make it a party?