On grief and menopause

I love that people are finally talking more openly and honestly about the grief of menopause.

Not just the physical changes—though they’re very real.

But the quiet goodbyes. The invisible things.

Goodbye to who we were.

To the younger body. The easy energy. The ambition and drive. The cycles that once gave rhythm to everything.

Goodbye to how the world used to see us.

To how we saw ourselves.

The certainty.

No one warns you that even as you grow wiser, stronger, more grounded—

There might still be moments of grief.

For what’s shifting. For what’s fading.

For the softness that’s no longer youthful, the skin that no longer bounces back, the desire that comes and goes like the tide.

This grief isn’t weakness.

It’s not self-pity.

It’s part of becoming.

Because with every goodbye, there’s a space being made.

For deeper knowing.

For new priorities.

The simpler things like the winter sun on your face, and smell of spring flowers, the love of a child.

And space for boundaries, clarity, creativity, truth.

Menopause isn't just an ending.

It’s a shedding. A remembering. A re-entry into self.

Let’s honour the grief—So we can step into what’s next, fully awake.