19/09/2026
Ramblings of a menopausal wifey...
I've been thinking a lot about how our society views ageing and the struggles many of us women feel as we move towards and beyond menopause - and how menopause problems seem to have escalated in modern day society.
Menopause is so often talked about in terms of what we're losing - hormones, fertility, sleep, libido, our youthful bodies - rather than what might be emerging.
We start looking at our changing bodies and seeing deterioration rather than change. We think needing more rest means we're less capable. We feel guilty for wanting a quieter life. We can even feel that somehow we're becoming less relevant.
But what if we looked at it differently?
In some Eastern traditions, this stage of life is seen as the time of the crone or wise woman - a time when experience, intuition and knowledge are valued. Not because reaching menopause magically makes us wise, but because we've lived. We've learnt. We've survived things. We've got a much clearer idea of what matters and what really doesn't.
We're designed to become more inwardly connected with strengthened intuition. I love the idea of that. I also love that The Patriarchy is fu***ng terrified of wise and embodied woman over 50! Well, wise and embodied women period! 😉
But in a fast paced world, finding the gifts of menopause can be hard, when there's so much expected of us and we expect so much of ourselves.
But, what if, rather than becoming less, women at midlife are becoming different; a more kind and quiet version of power that comes from a life that has made them have to soften in the path of adversity. But a quiet and compassionate power that should not be confused with weakness!
In Traditional Chinese Medicine (which I'm a HUGE fan of), post menopause is described as a woman's 'Second Spring'. I find that such a beautiful way of looking at it because it completely shifts the idea that menopause is simply the beginning of decline - or the end!
Spring doesn't look like summer. It's a different kind of energy and perhaps that's the point. We're not meant to try and recreate the woman we were in our 'summer season' at 25 or 35. We're being invited to discover what this version of ourselves has to offer. My Mam really struggled with aging and getting older. She died young, only 64, and I can't help think that in part, it was linked to her resistant and fearful lens of aging.
Menopause is often described in TCM as the winter season of a woman's life. I've always found winter hard. I'm definitely a summer lass. Winter has always felt like something to get through until we can get back to 'the good bit'. But I feel I'm being led (forced! 🥴) to embrace winter - both the upcoming one outside my window and the one happening within me. What if winter isn't just something we have to endure on the way to spring, but has its own purpose?
When I look at nature, I can see that winter isn't really doing nothing. The trees are bare but their roots are still there. Seeds are lying dormant. Everything is drawing inwards and conserving energy. But nature doesn't seem to panic about this. It just knows what season it is. It doesn't worry about stillness and being outwardly unproductive.
We tend to look at a woman after menopause as though the flower has finished blooming. Perhaps we're staring at the fading petals and missing the seed heads...The seed head isn't the end of the flower. It's carrying something forward. It's the flower in another stage of its life.
Winter from the outside, very little appears to be happening. But underneath the ground, everything is preparing. Seeds are waiting. Roots are resting. The soil is being replenished.
The next season is being quietly prepared, even though we can't see it.
And maybe that's one of the hardest things for us to accept - that something can be happening even when we can't see it - it's certainly true for me. We're so used to measuring progress by what is visible. What we've achieved. What we've produced. What's growing.
But perhaps there are seasons when the most important work looks like nothing at all.
A woman resting doesn't necessarily look like she's growing.
A woman changing direction doesn't necessarily look like she's progressing.
Maybe menopause is an invitation into that kind of unseen work?
A time when some of the old ways of being no longer fit. When our priorities change. When we're asked to listen to our bodies differently and perhaps let go of identities that have served us but no longer feel possible to sustain.
It feels like loss. It feels confusing.
It can feel like nothing is happening.
But perhaps the question isn't, 'How do I get back to normal?' Maybe it's, 'What is trying to emerge?'
Maybe I need to stop seeing the dormant season as the absence of life and start seeing it as the preparation for life.
The seed head doesn't know what spring will look like. It simply carries what it needs and waits.
Perhaps, somewhere beneath the surface, my next spring is already beginning? Maybe I just need to be patient and trust that something better will reveal itself if I take these steps to rest and allow my body to heal? I bloody hope so! 😉
This year I'm intentionally trying to embrace the passage from summer to winter.
I've always loved the seed heads that autumn brings once the big blooms of summer have gone - they still have such beauty even when everything else appears to be fading. This week I gathered some. There was something about collecting the dried stems and seed heads that felt quite symbolic. Things that might normally be seen as past their best were exactly the things I wanted to bring home.
On Thursday I made this autumnal wreath with what I'd collected - I love using seed heads in Festive Wreaths, and wanted to experiment with some I've not used before to see if they have the right qualities for upcoming winter wreaths. I was listening to a very apt audio book 'The Change' - thank you Victoria for the recommendation, I'm really enjoying it.
I'm aware that sounds a bit idyllic so in the spirit of keeping it real, I can tell you there were a load of creepy crawlies and my hoover wasn't amused. And, in true Justine ADHD style I was bored half way through and the finished wreath wasn't how I wanted it to look! It was intended for my new back door but it's bloody huge! 🙈 So it's hanging in the yard. I forgot to take a photo - and as you can see today, it's a been battered with the wind!
Delicate foliage is supported in Xmas wreaths where fir and pine provide scaffolding and stability. But we'll see how these delicate stems fair over the next few weeks and then decide what will be suitable for the festive classes.
The wreath feels like a little reminder of the wheel of the year - the constant cycle of growth, abundance, letting go, death, rest and renewal. And, a call to abandon perfection!
If you got this far, thank you for reading. If it feels right, I'd love to hear your experiences of menopause and any musings or nuggets of wisdom you've uncovered.
