It seems only right that the thing that should get me actively writing again is a book of essays about menopause — the ultimate transition for adults with a uterus. The collection, Bloody Hell! Adventures in Menopause from Around the World, is edited by Mona Eltahawy and brings together essays by 17 individuals about their own experiences with menopause. It is inspiring and surprisingly helpful for a non-medical, non-self-help collection of writing. Given the dearth of actual, useful information available on the menopause journey, though, I suppose it shouldn’t be that surprising that a book of people talking about their own experiences would include useful nuggets of knowledge!

I don’t remember what I used to be and I don’t know who I am becoming. But I welcome her! — Mona Altahawy p. xiv

While reading these essays, I felt like each new writer was perfectly capturing my story even though I am a cis white woman in Canada and the authors are Black, Brown, Asian, trans, nonbinary, cis, people living all over the world. The menopause journey may be as individual as the people experiencing it, as Eltahawy says in the introduction (p. xvii), but the fear, frustration, lack of knowledge, and acceptance certainly feel universal when laid out like this.

My entire life is built around my brain. Letting it fog up could be devastating to my career as a professor, a researcher, a writer” — Sonora Jha p. 68

Many of the authors in the book talk of the freedom of menopause and of finding ways to embrace this transition, even as they had to learn to come to grips with it. This is the part that struck a chord with me the most and resonates the most for my writing and future. It’s the first part that is the hardest though — coming to grips with the transition and getting through it.

While I am still perimenopausal, I was diagnosed with idiopathic intracranial hypertension in 2017 after some time in hospital. At the time, I had the exact same crisis of “faith” as Jha mentions in the quotation above — who am I without my brain? I couldn’t (and still can’t) pull facts out of the aether like a magician, discuss topics endlessly and widely like a wizened philosopher (or pothead, depending on your love for philosophy), or even remember the words for everyday items. I had to relearn how to read comfortably and I regularly made up words that I was sure were real or used completely inaccurate words in place of the real ones. It was terrifying. I wrote everything down when I had to present anything and cut back on the number of public events I did. I also slept a lot more, drank more water, and adjusted the food I ate along with adding new meds to my diet.

I improved with time, medication, and dealing with other medical issues that came up during/after this diagnosis. I got used to the new normal. I can’t multitask as well as I used to, I can’t hold as many ideas in my head at once, and I only occasionally forget words for things I use everyday now. Until things changed again. I went to the doctor scared that things were getting worse. I had an eye test to see if the pressure in my head was worse. I did a cognitive test that is usually only completed by seniors to test for Alzheimer’s. I passed, though I felt I was slower than I could have been. Neurologists say there’s nothing wrong. My eye doctor says there’s no negative change.

My nurse practitioner and I have begun discussing perimenopause during our well woman appointments. I can’t have estrogen supplements because I have a clotting disorder so she looks for non-hormonal options for me, but neither one of us knows what this means for me when HRT becomes necessary so we’re trying to get me into an ob/gyn before then. None of that helps when my brain fails me and I wonder who I am now.

I want to be present in this time in my life, not thinking wistfully about my ‘fertile’ years and not rushing ahead to senior citizen” — M’Kali-Hashiki p. 200

In January 2023, I made the decision to begin working full time at my corporate job rather than work full time hours for them, while also trying to do multiple jobs. I jumped into corporate culture and onto the corporate ladder with both feet. I think I did a pretty good job — I got a couple of promotions, title changes, and raises, including moving to a different department entirely and into the most challenging role I’ve had in my life to this point. It was exciting and I felt supported. I thought it would be easier, in some ways, than what I had been doing: I had one job, my focus wasn’t split in many directions, when my workday was over, I was done for the day, and the work didn’t tax my brain in the same way. This isn’t to say it wasn’t challenging or difficult — I wouldn’t have wanted to do it if it wasn’t challenging in some way — but I wasn’t developing new ideas, researching them, and writing about them in isolation on a regular basis. I did that from time to time, but the projects were much smaller, and the research was much more superficial. I felt confident I could do this job even on my “bad brain” days. And I was doing it well. And then I was let go in November of 2024. Not quite 2 years from deciding to go all in with this direction.

Now I wonder, had it been enough? Can I just never access the parts of my brain that I used to touch so easily as I descend further into the brain fog that began with my diagnosis and continues with perimenopause? Or do I just need to rethink how I work, the speed at which I work, and how and what I choose to write about?

The self is not a static point in time, but rather an evolution of selves — Mona Eltahawy p. 235

Eltahawy’s collection took me in so many directions that there will be other posts about this, but I wanted to start with the one that kept floating to the top of my (overly-pressured) brain — coming to grips with the loss of self, when your self is so tied to your intelligence. And I want to be clear that this is tough for everyone — losing the ability to know why you are doing anything is terrifying and a huge loss of self, but I can only speak for myself here and losing my brain felt, and some days continues to feel, like becoming a completely different person. When I go out into the world on a bad brain day and try to be the person people expect me to be, I’m worse than if I didn’t try. So, if you see me and I’m not who you think I always was, maybe I’ve finally decided it’s not worth the effort to try to be the old me anymore.

If you like the quotations I included and think this collection of essays might be for you or someone you care about, the book is amazing! It was published by Unbound, a publisher that uses a built-in crowdfunding publication model which is super innovative and I’ll probably write about this too! The book comes out in the UK in March of 2025 and should be available in North America by June of 2025 (but check in March!). I wrote an actual book review on StoryGraph if you’d like to read that.

Eltahawy, Mona, ed. Bloody Hell! Adventures in Menopause from Around the World. Unbound. Digital ISBN/UID: 9781800183711, 6 March 2025.