It Girls Have Hot Flashes Too: An Ode to Menopause

Section Editor Bianca Chatterjee writes about her gratitude for all phases of a person’s life, no matter how prickly—even menopause.

Like most creatives, I am inspired by my lived experiences, and there is nothing quite like the lens through which I navigate the world that shapes my voice as a writer. So naturally, there is nothing more self-interested and appropriate than writing about menopause as I observe and persist through its ups and downs. Hint: I am not menopausal, nor will I be any time soon. 

I guarantee it comes from love and fascination. Still, the inception of this love letter came from a particularly galling experience of mine—a one-to-one meeting with a newly assigned manager who seemed remarkably stoic and stern on first impression. 

The practice manager had been assigned to me following my previous manager’s sudden departure from the firm. Her hair was icy blonde, cut into a blunt lob, and her black Mimco-framed glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She’s ultra-efficient, manages the administrative elements nationally, and, like most women, oversees all the domestic affairs at home. She’s highly qualified at running shit like a well-oiled machine; there is nothing that flies under the radar and nothing that won’t get done to keep the cogs turning successfully. 

Our first meeting went very well, despite my nerves. She asked me why I chose politics as my arts degree major, what my favourite law courses were, whether my goal was to be admitted to practice, and where my outfit was from. She listened to me intently as I gave nervously drawn-out answers and politely chuckled when I made palatable jokes specifically targeted to people in her demographic—people the same age as my mother. 

Upon confusing the name of my previous manager with other managing lawyers in the office twice, I finally corrected her when she misspoke the third time. She sighed indignantly and said, ‘Sorry, I realised I messed that up before. It’s menopause brain.’

I immediately replied with, ‘I get it. Mum’s just started, too, and we’ve talked heaps about it.’ It broke the last bits of ice. She began to open up about how navigating this new era was way more challenging than pregnancy, the various phases of the menstrual cycle, or anything else she’d ever experienced. 

My mother is another strong-willed woman who persisted through immigration more than twice across two continents, battled through the trials and tribulations of being the founder of a rapidly growing logistics company, and still finds the energy to deal with my father’s impulsivity and eccentricities. We were sorting through the laundry when she arbitrarily brought up this new development—‘Yeah, my periods stopped months ago now, so I’m going to need more help from you, Bianca.’ 

Of course, I sheepishly reassured her and told her about a Viola Davis interview clip I had seen recently, where she described menopause as worse than hell. I had so many questions to ask her (referring to my mother and not Viola Davis, in this case) regarding hot flashes, its effect on her alongside her chronic illnesses, and her anxiety. She discarded the semi-folded laundry and, in turn, asked me what I knew about hormone replacement therapy, brain fog and if there was any way she could permanently replicate the feeling of the follicular phase. We dryly laughed about how more money would’ve been poured into researching this stuff if men experienced it. Instead, we discovered that medical students study menopause for as little as one hour across their degree in many cases.

I frequently wonder how Mum thinks she’s starting to age visibly; to sag and droop, to need more breaks when walking through the shopping centre and to feel regret creeping up about things left unsaid, places left unseen, and days left un-seized. Increased rumination is a side effect of the hormonal changes that occur after menopause. 

In my eyes, she’s perpetually gorgeous. She still looks like she did in the pictures of us on my third birthday, my brother's birth, and the day she finally met our younger cat, Miguel. A face framed with large brown eyes, carefully placed beauty spots and thinly arched eyebrows. Her laugh is distinctive and booming, one of the many attributes that make her so vivacious and inspiring. 

These little conversations proved to me that there is something so awe-inspiring in how growth manifests itself, particularly in women. I think it's incredible how many phases of growing pains women face as a consequence of our biology, but it’s simply dealt with, adjusted to, and accepted. No matter how much the pain of grieving what your body once was tries to intercept. Menopause and post-menopause themselves are not pleasant experiences by any means, and watching Mum trying her hardest to keep up with the hormonal warfare that wages within her, one battle at a time, is both admirable and emotional. Her worries about the sagging, drooping, and wrinkling seem trivial when I watch her slow down physically (refer to the cocktail of hormones peaking during the follicular phase and ovulation, i.e, the secret sauce to femme longevity and energy, disappearing).

Mum tends to reminisce about when she was in her thirties, or before she had kids, more so than ever these days. She occasionally asks me how to lift the softened skin under her eyes or around her jawline, and when I can start researching the surgical and non-surgical options for comparison’s sake. I gently suggest that she step away from the bathroom mirror instead.

I don’t criticise too heavily because it’s not my place to deem which of her concerns are superficial. At this point, she’s toughed out too much throughout her life and doesn’t deserve to hear her 22-year-old daughter complain about how her mother’s aging anxieties spoil her mood. I imagine that I would surely get bitch-slapped by my manager too, if I was trying to prove that sort of point. 

Along with external appearances, energy levels, temperaments, memory, and patience begin to wax and wane hourly. Under such turmoil, it’s natural to grieve a previous phase where everything seemed more within your control. Or at least, these things seemed a little more predictable. Both my manager and Mum have said that when your periods stop, all of the data and patterns you’d have collected about your body and psyche go out the window; everything changes and at times, it can be scary to be at the mercy of the body you’ve learnt and been with for however many decades. 

But in the way that a new moon symbolises a new beginning or a rebirth, as one chapter of a woman or femme person’s life comes to a close, she/they embark on a new journey that challenges them, as well as brings forth new revelations about the joys of being themselves.

Since menopause, Mum has started travelling more and regularly exercising, which she didn’t care much about previously. She’s been able to use her time to the fullest, exploring new hobbies and learning new tidbits of information that she folds into the gaps of dinner-time conversations. She’s been able to reconcile her relationship with herself and the trickier parts of her relationship with her husband. It’s all been a very vulnerable yet rewarding process, and watching her learn to re-navigate these things makes me proud of her.

At the end of my meeting with my manager, I asked her if she had anticipated anything she’s experiencing now. She said that everything has been a surprise, and like with pregnancy, there’s a lot no one talks about. As time passes, you discover the weird little things that come as symptoms of newfound unfamiliarity with your body and mind. There’s a new quirk encountered every day, and emotions you didn’t know you had can arise in a staggered, murky build or suddenly and overwhelmingly. 

It’s both exhausting and curiosity piquing. It’s maddening but brings back the old desire to learn and practice patience. 

Menopause is not the end of something and should not be treated as such. The powerful vulnerability I’ve witnessed so far makes me proud and lucky to have chosen to lead my life as a woman. To be clear, I’m not excited about starting menopause because I can barely handle the luteal phase at times. However, seeing such brilliant women in my life tackle this chapter so valiantly, shifting the paradigm little by little, makes me excited to transform throughout the decades of my life and go through the motions of growing in every circumstance. One day, I hope my daughter is inspired by me, her mentors, and/or Viola Davis enough to be excited about her life, too.

REFERENCES:

[1] Karp, Paul. ““Astounding” Lack of Menopause Education for Australia’s Medical Students Must Be Remedied, Mark Butler Says.” The Guardian, The Guardian, 22 Sept. 2024, www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2024/sep/22/astounding-lack-of-menopause-education-for-australian-medical-students-must-be-remedied-mark-butler-says.