What’s happening to me? Perimenopause- the silent storm I was not prepared for

By Krystal Headly

Perimenopause, the transitional phase leading to menopause, is one of the most significant physical and emotional shifts a woman can experience. Yet, it remains one of the least discussed, often wrapped in silence and taboo. Despite its profound impact, it remains rarely spoken about openly, leaving many women to navigate it alone, confused, and unprepared.  In this article, I will attempt to rip the lid off the silence and give voice to the quiet suffering.  I will try to speak the words so many women haven’t had the space or support to say out loud.  To be honest, even writing this feels uncomfortable; vulnerable in a way I’d rather avoid. But that’s exactly why I have to speak up. If I stay silent, then the silence has already won.

I remember being somewhat prepared for puberty. I vaguely remember some of the conversations with my mother and aunt. From these conversations, I knew that there would be changes in my body and pains associated with the menstrual cycle etc. In different circles, I’d heard conversations about the first-trimester nausea and horrors of labour pains, even what was required for post-partum care. However, nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared me for perimenopause.

This phase of womanhood arrived unannounced; no warnings, no shared wisdom, no supportive words to guide me through. It just came, like a storm rolling in silently at first but when it struck, it hit every part of me—my mind, my body and my emotions! Only recently, I noticed the occasional short Instagram reel or Facebook post about perimenopause in my feed and that’s only because the algorithms picked up on my desperate Google searches trying to find out what was happening to me. It feels less like guidance and more like the internet whispering, “Oh… so you’ve just discovered this too?”

The mood swings took me by surprise

I feel a kind of emotional fog I can’t quite shake. Tears come for no reason and anxiety hits like a punch to the chest. It’s like a sudden burst of overwhelming waves that hit without warning. I’d be going about my day and out of nowhere, my heart would start racing. I’d feel this rising panic, like something terrible was about to happen; even when nothing was wrong.  It doesn’t have a trigger (not that I am aware of), nor does it make sense, but it is real and terrifying.

Then there are mood swings. I can already hear you saying, ‘Come on, you’ve always been moody.’ And maybe that’s a fair point, but let’s save that debate for another day. Some days I’d go to bed feeling completely fine, only to wake up the next morning angry, irritable, or deeply upset as if I’d carried someone else’s emotions into the day. The smallest things would set me off. Conversations feel draining. I am short-tempered, grumpy, and easily overwhelmed. Rage, a word I would not usually associate with myself, but suddenly I feel like I am exploding over little things. I’d lash out, snap or lose it for no logical reason. I don’t recognise the woman who suddenly can’t tolerate noise, certain scents, interruptions, mess,  or even someone chewing too loudly. Everything feels like it scrapes against my nerves. I never saw this coming, far less for those around me who are at the receiving end. Recently, my son was casually trying to tell me something and he must have sensed my mood or maybe my facial expression told a story. He looked at me, confused and said, “Mummy, wha’ happen?

Why yuh gettin’ on so?” I immediately felt ashamed and made up an excuse to downplay my actions.

Queue the sleepless nights and night sweats!

Sleep used to be my refuge, one of my favourite pastimes! But now that has changed completely. I struggle to fall asleep, night after night, my mind racing even though my body is desperate for rest. When I finally drift off, the sleep is shallow, fragmented, and never enough. I’d wake in the early hours around 2 a.m., 3 a.m. staring at the ceiling, wide awake and wired. I’ve tried everything: spraying magnesium oil under my feet, doubling or sometimes tripling the dosage of melatonin gummies, ashwagandha in water, eand ven soursop leaf tea. Nothing works.

Some nights I’d wake up sweating as if I’d just run a 10k in my sleep. The AC unit could be on full blast, and yet I’d be sweating! I would give anything to experience a few nights per week of uninterrupted sleep. This isn’t random, though; it’s another hallmark of perimenopause, a reminder that my body and hormones are no longer predictable. Where rest has become a luxury rather than a given.

I feel like my body is falling apart

One of the most distressing parts of this journey has been how my body has changed and not in small, subtle ways. It started with my hips aching at night, a dull throb that I thought was just from poor form during my workouts or perhaps sleeping awkwardly. But it has gradually escalated into debilitating pain. Now, I’m popping painkillers like breath mints just to make it through the night without moaning or wincing.

I have pains in my shoulder, literally, they just froze up. At times, I can’t lift my arm without shooting pain. Thanks to the internet, I know ‘frozen shoulder’ is actually a symptom of perimenopause. My fingers and wrists, joints I never even thought about, have suddenly stiffened and ache so badly at night that I am awakened from what little sleep I get. It’s as if my body waits until I’m still and tries to sabotage me in the dark.

It doesn’t stop there. My hair has started thinning, strands coming out in handfuls. My skin seemed to forget how to heal from even the smallest bruises. I started gaining weight not all over, just in the midsection, despite sticking to a clean diet and a consistent exercise routine.  I’ve always trusted my body to respond to what I gave it, but now it feels like it’s stopped taking my calls. I don’t just feel older. I feel worn down, like my body has stopped being a safe place to live.

Brain Fog!

I’d walk into rooms and forget why. I’d lose track of names, words, simple thoughts. I even forgot to complete key tasks that almost impacted my performance review at work. I’ve resorted to a list of actions on my refrigerator to keep me on track at home and sticky notes in my desk drawer at the office. There were times I would be adamant that I mentioned something to my husband, when in fact I hadn’t. I started thinking something was wrong with my brain. Am I losing my mind? Is this early-onset Alzheimer’s? But apparently, this too is perimenopause…and no one warned me about this. 

Intimacy changed (and I don’t know how to talk about it)

One of the hardest parts of this entire journey has been the change in my libido. I didn’t expect it. No one told me it could vanish into thin air so suddenly. I stopped feeling desire. In a nutshell, sex has evolved into an unpleasant and painful experience, both during and after. Instead of being a source of closeness, intimacy started to feel like something I needed to brace myself for. My body feels foreign and not in a sensual way. I don’t feel like myself and I really don’t know how to explain this shift.

Why were we never prepared for this?

I keep coming back to this: how could something so profound be left unspoken?

Young girls are prepared for puberty. We talk to them. We guide them. We have school lessons, pamphlets, open conversations, and support systems. We’ve been told to expect the nausea that comes with first-trimester pregnancy, and if you weren’t aware, Heidi Murkoff outlines it all in her book What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Pregnancy has entire shelves of guidebooks, apps, classes, and communities devoted to walking women through every stage. But this phase, this second, seismic transformation in a woman’s life, gets none of that.  Perimenopause arrives like a thief in the night, and women are expected to just carry on as if nothing has changed. The sad truth is this isn’t just a fleeting season. In my case, there’s at least another decade (maybe longer) of this storm to endure. Imagine facing ten years of upheaval without guidance, without language, without support.

Before getting married, my husband and I attended the Catholic Engaged Encounter Weekend retreat at the Emmaus Centre. There were workshops and activities on financial management, communication, family planning, all the key pillars of building a life together. But during that weekend not once did any of the facilitators say, “One day, this  woman you’re marrying may go through something that will shake her to the core; emotionally, physically, sexually and it could impact your relationship in ways you never imagined.” Why is that not part of the conversation during marriage prep?

I recall one of my marriage preparation sessions with Fr Matthew D’hereaux. He asked me, “Will you ever deny your husband sex?”. My answer was a resounding, “No, of course not.” I had no idea there would be a phase in my marriage where I would have no desire to be embraced, no wish to be touched, and moments where the thought of intimacy would feel overwhelming.

Why isn’t the Church preparing couples for this? Where is the support from the Church? There are programmes in place for pre- and post-sacraments of initiation, support programmes for the youth, parents, divorced/separated and the widowed. A programme to support family and friends of the LGBTQ+ community has also been established. Where is the support for those suffering through perimenopause and their loved ones impacted by it? Don’t get me wrong, I am not putting this solely on the mantle of the church. It is also important for communities, workplaces, and healthcare systems to start making space for these conversations. Share the knowledge, provide resources and establish support networks. It needs to start now.

If someone took the time to dig deep into the root causes of some divorces or even the heart-breaking suicides among women aged 35 to 50, I am almost certain they would find a link to the effects of perimenopause. I say this because I know what it’s like to struggle to get through some days. The numerous times I’ve looked at my husband and thought, “Maybe we should just call it quits.” There are days when I am so exhausted and fed up with the endless roller coaster that I just want to unbuckle my safety belt and jump off while in mid-air.

Men need to know this, too

This isn’t just about me and what I am experiencing. It’s about every woman and every partner, husband, or loved one who stands beside her. Sadly, more than 95 per cent of men will scroll  past the headline of this article and ignore it.

Men need to know what perimenopause is. They need to understand what it does. Not so they can fix it, but so they can support the women in their lives with patience, not confusion or criticism. Partners need to know that their wives or loved ones are not ‘overreacting’ or suddenly ‘changing’. Nor are they ‘manifesting’ or ‘dwelling on’ the symptoms because they are viewing content trying to learn about the changes occurring in their bodies. They are enduring a powerful biological transition that demands patience, tenderness, and compassion. A supportive partner can make all the difference emotionally and relationally. It is crucial that the men in our lives understand what’s happening, so they can offer empathy instead of reproach, support instead of frustration. Because when a woman is silently drowning in depression, panic, pain, and shame, the last thing she needs is to feel like she’s alone in it.

This needs to be talked about. Loudly, and without shame

Perimenopause isn’t a footnote. It’s not a side story. For many women, it is a complete upheaval and it deserves to be treated that way. I wish I had known sooner. I wish someone had told me what to expect. I wish I had the language to talk about it with my husband, my doctor and my friends, because I feel like the point of breaking is near, very near. I’m writing about it now because I know many other women are walking through this fog, feeling lost and confused and afraid. If that’s you, you are not crazy. You are not broken. You are not alone.

Perimenopause is real. It can be extremely hard. If you haven’t yet reached this stage, take heart: knowledge is power. Talk to other women, read, ask questions, and prepare yourself.  Know that the changes you may face are not a flaw or weakness. They are part of this biological transition and you can face them with awareness, patience, and self-compassion. I continue to pray for the strength to endure this journey for the next decade (or more) that it is expected to last and I hope that by sharing my story, other women can feel a little less alone, a little more prepared, and a lot more empowered.

In strength and sisterhood,