Low

“How in the world am I gonna get through this day?”

“Ugh.  Slept like shit.  Tired and cranky.”

“I hate everything.”

And my favorite: “It’s easy to get buried under the asshole parts of the day.”

These are a minuscule sampling of some of my journal entries from the past several months.  Without realizing it, perimenopause had slowly dropped its veil over my eyes.  While I am not yet experiencing the physical symptoms, I have every single one of the mental and emotional symptoms.  It happened so slowly I didn’t notice. It crept up steathily, like a burglar in the night.  My mood worsened in increments.  My tolerance for people dripped away like a slow leaking bucket.  My sleep became more and more interrupted, resulting in me lying awake for hours during the night. I would wake up exhausted, wondering how I could possibly get through the day when the simple act of speaking seemed monumental.

I noticed that I was losing interest in my favorite hobbies.  I didn’t feel like doing anything but I also didn’t want to not be doing something. I didn’t want to go to work but I didn’t want to stay home.  I used to eagerly anticipate bike rides and hikes.  Now they felt like another chore on the list of things to do.  I felt apathetic.

Two things happened that made me stop and take notice.  The first thing was that I lived a normal day.  Nothing noteworthy or mentionable happened on this particular day.  It was average.  Not good or bad.  Unmemorable.  Evening came.  I felt an inordinate sense of accomplishment for making it through this day.  Then it hit me.  I had to wake up the next morning and do it all again.  I had to DO IT ALL AGAIN.  I could not fathom the thought of it.  Getting through another day seemed preposterous.  I felt like I had been dumped at the base camp of Mount Everest and had to start climbing immediately.  To be clear, I never had thoughts of ending my life.  I just didn't know how I could get through another day.  I wallowed in negativity for a while that evening, trying to figure out ways around tomorrow.  Maybe I could sleep all day, or even till noon.  That clearly wouldn't work, because at some point I would still wake up and have to do the day.  I finally gave up and succumbed to the fact that tomorrow was coming and there was nothing I could do about it, so I might as well give it a try.  And I did.  Those thoughts triggered a little warning flag in my mind, but I wasn't sure yet what was happening.  

The second thing that happened was that an acquaintance of ours committed suicide.  She was nearly the same age as me.  When my husband told me what had happened, my first thought was, "Yeah, I get that."  That really scared me.  That's when I knew I had to do something.  

My first step was to start researching.  What in the world was happening to my brain?  I stumbled upon a podcast by Rich Roll, with guest speaker Dr. Lisa Mosconi.  Dr. Mosconi is a leading researcher on the changes that happen to women's brains during perimenopause and menopause.  I listened intently as she listed all the changes that women experience, specifically in our brains, as we approach menopause.  Simmering rage: check.  Brain fog: check.  Irritability and mood swings: check.  Anxiety: check.  Trouble sleeping: check. Depression: CHECK.  It all became clear.  I was depressed.  I had read about depression.  I had heard people talk about depression.  Now I was living it.  So this is what it felt like to be depressed.  

How could I be depressed?  I have a great life.  I adore my husband.  I enjoy my work and my clients.  I am lucky to call my co workers friends.  Within my own life, I do all the right things.  I exercise daily, eat right, don’t drink alcohol, journal daily, and on and on.  I was doing all the things that were supposed to keep me well, both mentally and physically.  Without having ever experienced depression first hand, I always thought it could be managed by exercise and getting outside.  Those were my happy places, so why wouldn’t that work for everyone?  More importantly, why were those things not working for me anymore?

Listening to that podcast was the proverbial light bulb moment for me.  I was depressed, and it was not because of anything that I was doing or not doing.  My brain was actually changing.  All the symptoms I was experiencing, depression and simmering rage being the two most notable, were a result of those changes. I wasn’t going crazy.  I wasn’t falling into a pit of eternal misery. 

Dr. Mosconi went on to explain the science behind all of her research findings, and with each word she spoke, I felt my spirits lift a bit.  There was hope.  I immediately purchased her book, The Menopause Brain, and devoured every word.  In the process of all of this, I started trying different supplements.  One supplement was designed specifically for perimenopause and menopause.  Another was geared towards treating depression and sort of re wiring the brain to get out of the negative thought spiral.  I played around with a few things to help me sleep, avoiding pharmaceuticals because of how much they disrupt REM sleep.  Almost immediately, I started to feel normal again.  I didn’t dread waking up in the morning. Every day was not kittens and puppies and unicorns, but days were better.  My passion for cycling and hiking and outdoor activity returned.  The apathy subsided.

One day a few weeks later, my husband and I were outside doing some yard work.  He looked at me and said, “It’s nice to have you back.”  That brought tears to my eyes.  I had been so consumed with my own misery that I never stopped to think about how it was affecting him.  “It’s nice to be back,” I replied with a smile.

I still have low days, but they are less frequent and I can manage them better.  Knowing what is happening to me makes a world of difference.  Knowing that women around the world are dealing with the exact same thing as me is helpful.  I am at the very beginning of perimenopause and realize I have a long road ahead, but now it feels manageable.  Feeling myself again helps tremendously.

I am reluctant to share what worked for me because I believe every woman needs to find her own solution. Our bodies are all different.  Our symptoms are different.  What has worked so well for me may or may not work for others.  Know that there is something out there that will help.  I encourage all women to talk with their health care providers, their friends, their family members, anyone who will listen.  Share information, symptoms, knowledge, resources.  There is no shame in seeking help.  I am grateful that I am coming into perimenopause in an age where more women are speaking openly about it, and there are finally researchers out there like Dr. Mosconi who are receiving funding to study it.

I shared my story with a few close friends, all near the same age as me.  All of them replied in mostly the same way: “Wow, you hid it very well.”  Yes, I did.  One of my friends listened to my story patiently but didn’t say much.  A few weeks later I got a text from her.  She shared that after she listened to my story, she realized that she too has been struggling with depression.  She called it “high-functioning depression.”  She is also an endurance athlete, and we talked about the athlete mentality of powering through it, throwing ourselves harder into our chosen activity in hopes that it would make our minds right.  Double down.  Get outside more.  Run more, bike more, swim more, hike more.  Put on a happy face and pretend everything is wonderful when inside we feel consumed in a black hole of despair.  She too is now seeking help and taking steps. 

Looking back on the last several months, I can’t believe I waited so long.  I can’t believe I let myself get so low, so depressed, before I took steps to resolve it.  Now, when I have bad days, I try and find patience with myself and those around me.  The depression and rage is not me, it’s only my brain trying to re-wire itself in preparation for my next stage of life.  When I step back and think about it that way, it’s really pretty cool.