“The Whisper Before the Storm”
When I first heard the word menopause, it sounded like a distant thing. Like something that happened to other women—older, wiser, maybe with grandchildren and a newfound love for gardening. Not me. I was still juggling kids, cooking bentos, chasing deadlines, and sneaking bites of chocolate in the pantry to survive the day.
But slowly, like a whisper growing louder, something started to change.
It wasn’t dramatic at first. I’d forget small things—where I left the keys, what I came into the room for. I’d shrug and laugh, “Mom brain again!” Then came the nights. Hot, restless, confusing nights. I would wake up drenched in sweat, heart racing, blanket tossed to the floor. “Did I have a nightmare?” I’d ask myself. But I couldn’t remember one. Sometimes, my body felt like it belonged to someone else. My emotions? A complete wild card.
And still, I didn’t think menopause. I thought: stress. Lack of sleep. Aging, maybe.
I talked to my friends—some older, some the same age. That’s when the confessions started pouring out.
“I snap at my husband over nothing. It’s like I can’t control it.”
“I feel like crying for no reason sometimes.”
“My periods are all over the place—I never know when it’s coming anymore.”
That’s when I realized: this wasn’t just me. This was us. A silent sisterhood all quietly wondering, “What’s going on with my body?”—while still taking care of everyone else around us.
Living in Japan, there’s a cultural layer too. We don’t often talk openly about menopause. It’s not something discussed over coffee or lunch. It’s seen as a private, maybe even shameful, transition—something to quietly endure, like a stomach ache or a bad mood. But why?
I started digging, reading, asking questions. And what I found surprised me. Menopause isn’t just an end—it’s a beginning of a new phase. One that’s confusing, yes—but also powerful and freeing, once you understand it.
So I decided to write this blog.
Not as a doctor or scientist (though I’ll include reliable info where I can!), but as a woman. A wife. A mom. A daughter. A friend. A Japanese housewife trying to make sense of what’s happening inside her body—and maybe help someone else do the same.
In this series, I’ll share:
- What menopause really is (spoiler: it’s not just hot flashes)
- My personal experiences—the good, the bad, and the hilarious
- Natural and medical ways to support your body
- Japanese perspectives on menopause and how it differs from Western views
- How I’m learning to embrace this stage—not fear it
If you’re in your 40s or 50s and wondering if this is it, or if you’re just curious about what’s coming someday—this is for you. Whether you’re sipping tea in Tokyo or grabbing a smoothie in Seattle, I hope you find a little comfort, some good laughs, and maybe even a few useful tips here.
Because we don’t have to suffer in silence. We don’t have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. And we definitely don’t have to go through this alone.
Let’s talk. Let’s laugh. Let’s sweat through it together.
“When the Fog Rolls In”
Let’s be honest. Once the hot flashes started, I was still in denial. “It’s just a hot summer,” I told myself. Even though it was October.
Then came the brain fog. Imagine walking into a room and forgetting why you came in. That happens to everyone, right? But what if it happens five times a day? What if you forget your best friend’s name mid-sentence? Or suddenly can’t remember the word for toothbrush in your own language?
It’s not just annoying—it’s frightening.
Menopause isn’t a single event. It’s a messy, unpredictable transition that affects nearly every part of your life. And for most women, it starts quietly, somewhere in their 40s—what’s called perimenopause, the pre-menopause stage. Periods become irregular, hormones swing like toddlers on too much sugar, and your emotional balance? Gone with the wind.
For me, the scariest part wasn’t the physical symptoms. It was feeling like I was losing control. I’ve always been the steady one—the planner, the caretaker, the calm-in-the-chaos mom. But suddenly, I was the one crying in the kitchen because someone used the last banana. Seriously. A banana.
I’d wake up exhausted even after eight hours of sleep. My skin became dry and sensitive. My joints ached like I was suddenly 80 years old. And my moods? Let’s just say I started avoiding myself in the mirror.
So what exactly is going on?
The Science-y Part (But I’ll Keep It Simple):
During perimenopause and menopause, our estrogen and progesterone levels start to drop. These hormones don’t just affect fertility—they impact our brain, bones, heart, skin, metabolism, and even our moods and memory. When estrogen levels decline, all those systems go into a kind of hormonal confusion.
That’s why we get:
- Hot flashes and night sweats (thanks, hypothalamus!)
- Anxiety or depression (yes, it’s real and hormonally influenced)
- Irregular sleep (which makes everything worse)
- Weight gain, especially around the belly
- Loss of libido (or, in some cases, a sudden increase—it’s a hormonal roulette!)
And yet, so many women suffer in silence. Or worse, they’re told:
“It’s all in your head.”
“You’re just stressed.”
“This is normal—just deal with it.”
No. Just no.
The Japanese Context: Graceful Silence or Pressure to Endure?
Living in Japan, I’ve noticed how menopause is often treated like a private struggle. There’s this silent expectation to endure—gaman suru. You’re expected to handle it with grace, not talk about it too much, not make others uncomfortable. That cultural value can be both beautiful and dangerous.
Beautiful, because it teaches us resilience.
Dangerous, because it isolates us.
In Western cultures, there’s growing openness—support groups, books, even podcasts about menopause. But here, many women still hesitate to even say the word “kounenki” out loud.
I remember one woman at my local community center whispering, “I think I’m… going through it.” Like she was talking about a scandal.
That’s why we need to talk. Loudly, openly, and without shame.
Because if we don’t, many women will continue to think something is wrong with them, instead of realizing that this is a normal, biological part of life that we can learn to manage.
Finding Help (It’s Out There!)
Here’s the thing that changed everything for me: you don’t have to suffer through this alone.
I finally visited my gynecologist—a kind woman who reassured me I wasn’t losing my mind. She explained that there are many options:
- Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) – controversial, but effective for some women
- Herbal and natural remedies – like black cohosh, soy isoflavones, red clover (popular in Japan)
- Diet changes – more calcium, fiber, and protein; less caffeine and sugar
- Exercise – gentle walking, yoga, or strength training helps manage mood and weight
- Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) – for anxiety and sleep problems
I also found comfort in simple, daily rituals: warm baths with lavender oil, journaling my moods, even drinking mugicha (barley tea) to cool down during the day. It’s not magic—but it helps.
And perhaps most importantly—I started talking. With friends, with my husband, with my daughter.
I told them what was going on. I asked for understanding. I laughed at the weirdness of it all.
It felt like taking off a mask.
“The Shift I Never Saw Coming”
One morning, I was standing in front of the mirror, brushing my teeth, when I suddenly locked eyes with my reflection.
Who is that woman?
She looked tired. Her eyes were softer but wiser. A few more lines had appeared around her mouth—laugh lines, maybe? Or was that worry? Her body was changing, yes. But there was something else. Something deeper.
She looked… freer.
That was the moment I realized: something in me had shifted.
Up until then, I’d been fighting menopause. Resisting it. Googling how to “fix” myself. Wanting to go back to “normal”—whatever that was. But that day, I didn’t feel broken. I felt like I was becoming someone new.
The Identity Crisis No One Talks About
Menopause doesn’t just mess with your hormones—it messes with your identity.
For years, I was the caretaker. The mom. The wife. The one who always knew where the socks were, who made appointments, remembered birthdays, packed lunches, and solved everyone’s problems with a smile.
But suddenly, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. My kids didn’t need me the same way. My body didn’t react the same way. My emotions were all over the place, and my confidence had gone AWOL.
I had to ask myself: If I’m not the person I used to be… who am I now?
At first, that question scared me. But eventually, it excited me.
Because here’s the truth no one tells you:
Menopause isn’t just about loss. It’s about reinvention.
Shedding the “Shoulds”
Before menopause, I was weighed down by “shoulds.”
- I should look young.
- I should always be cheerful and put together.
- I should be selfless, quiet, grateful, slim, busy… always busy.
But as I started going through this wild hormonal ride, something surprising happened:
I started caring less about those “shoulds.”
It didn’t happen overnight. It crept in like sunlight through the blinds.
I stopped apologizing for resting.
I started wearing clothes that felt good, not just looked good.
I began saying “no” more often—and with less guilt.
I took myself out to lunch. Alone. And enjoyed it.
There’s a Japanese word I love: “jibunrashisa” (自分らしさ) — being true to yourself.
Somehow, this stage of life helped me find it.
Not because everything was perfect—but because I had to dig deep to find what really mattered.
The Unexpected Gifts of Menopause
Let’s be clear: menopause is no walk in the park. Some days are hard. Some symptoms linger. Some emotions still sneak up on me like uninvited guests.
But I’ve also gained things I never expected:
- Clarity: I know what drains me and what fills me up. I don’t waste time as much.
- Boundaries: I’m learning how to set them—and how to respect my own.
- Connection: Talking openly about menopause created deeper friendships than I imagined.
- Courage: I started writing again. I even said “yes” to a project I would’ve turned down before.
- Self-respect: I don’t need to prove my worth through exhaustion anymore.
Most importantly, I’ve learned to trust my body—not fight it.
Yes, it’s changing. Yes, sometimes it frustrates me. But it’s also wise. It tells me when I need rest, when I need movement, when I need comfort.
For years, I ignored those whispers. Now, I’m finally listening.
A Word About Relationships
Menopause doesn’t just affect you. It affects everyone around you. Your spouse. Your children. Your friends.
At first, I tried to hide what I was going through. I didn’t want to burden anyone. But the more I kept it in, the more distant I felt.
One day, after a particularly moody morning, I sat my husband down and said:
“I don’t always understand what’s happening to me. But I need your support.”
He listened. He didn’t always know what to say. But he started asking questions. He read an article I sent him. He even bought me a cooling pillow. That meant everything.
And my kids? They now know that “Mom needs quiet time” is a valid reason to leave me alone with a cup of tea. Progress!
Reflection
If I could go back and talk to my 39-year-old self, I’d say this:
“You’re not falling apart. You’re unfolding.”
And yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s uncomfortable. But it’s also beautiful—in its own wild, sweaty, liberating way.
Menopause doesn’t mean the end of something. It’s the middle of your story. A chapter where you get to rewrite the rules, claim your space, and maybe—just maybe—fall in love with yourself all over again.
So if you’re going through it right now, take a breath. You are not alone.
You are not broken.
You are becoming.
“The Calm After the Storm”
For years, I thought menopause was something I had to survive.
Endure. Push through.
Like a dark tunnel you just had to walk until the light finally showed up at the other end.
But somewhere along the way, something surprising happened.
The fog lifted.
The chaos calmed down.
And in its place… came something softer. Quieter. More stable.
Not the same “me” as before—but maybe a better version.
The Day I Realized I Felt… Normal Again
It wasn’t a dramatic moment. No big fanfare or “aha!” moment.
I just remember sitting at my kitchen table one morning—hot coffee in hand, sunlight on the floor, birds outside the window—and thinking:
“I feel good.”
Not euphoric. Not overly energetic. Just centered. Grounded.
For the first time in a long time, my body wasn’t screaming for attention. My emotions weren’t crashing like waves.
I felt like… myself again. But different. Upgraded.
This is life after menopause. And I promise—it exists.
The Myths We Need to Break
There are so many myths about menopause:
- “It’s the end of your femininity.”
- “You’ll never feel sexy again.”
- “You’ll lose your energy, your drive, your usefulness.”
Let me tell you: all of that is garbage.
Yes, the process can be brutal. But on the other side, many women report feeling freer, more confident, and even more creative than ever before.
For me, it was like shedding an old skin.
All the expectations, perfectionism, people-pleasing, constant guilt—it didn’t matter anymore.
I started choosing me more often. Not out of selfishness, but out of self-respect.
Creating a New Routine That Honors Me
Now that the storm has passed, I’ve built a life that actually supports me—not just everyone else.
Here’s what’s become part of my daily rhythm:
- Morning movement: gentle yoga, a short walk, or even just stretching while I make tea.
- Simple, nourishing food: miso soup, grilled fish, warm veggies, plenty of water. And yes, chocolate is still a friend.
- Screen-free time: I put my phone away for one hour a day. No messages, no news—just peace.
- Meaningful work: even if it’s small—a blog post, a recipe I test, or a book I read that feeds my mind.
- Connection: regular coffee with girlfriends, even if we just laugh about our brain fog or how we can’t wear turtlenecks anymore (hot flash alert!).
These little habits don’t just help me function—they help me feel alive.
Love and Intimacy at This Stage
One of the biggest fears women talk about is losing intimacy—both emotional and physical.
I’ll admit, that part took time. Hormones affect everything, and it was hard to feel close to anyone when I barely felt connected to myself.
But now that the dust has settled, intimacy feels different—in a good way.
There’s a deeper tenderness in my relationship with my husband. We’ve been through this strange chapter together, and now we understand each other in new ways.
Intimacy is no longer about performance—it’s about presence.
And with my friends, I’ve developed the most honest, beautiful connections. We’re not pretending anymore. No one’s trying to be perfect. We just show up as we are.
It’s refreshing. And healing.
Rediscovering Joy (Even in Small Things)
There’s a cherry blossom tree near my house. Every spring, I used to admire it as I rushed past—on the way to the grocery store, or school, or the post office.
But this past spring, I stopped.
I stood under that tree for 15 minutes and just let the petals fall on my shoulders.
No rush. No plan. Just joy.
That’s what this phase of life has given me: permission to slow down and enjoy what I never had time for before.
A good book. A hot bath. A long phone call.
Time with myself.
Time to dream again.
What I Want Younger Women to Know
If you’re still in your 30s or early 40s, and you hear the word “menopause” and think, “Ugh, I don’t even want to think about that”—I get it. I was there too.
But here’s what I wish someone had told me:
- It’s not the end—it’s a shift.
- You’re not alone. Ever.
- You’re stronger than you think.
- The best years of your life might be waiting on the other side.
More than anything, I want younger women to know that aging isn’t something to fear. It’s something to step into. Gracefully. Powerfully. On your own terms.
And for those of us already in the middle or beyond?
Let’s live out loud. Let’s be the women we wished we’d seen growing up—unapologetic, wise, joyful, and real.
Final Thoughts
Menopause changed me.
Not just my body—but my spirit. My priorities. My sense of worth.
Yes, it was messy and painful and confusing at times. But it also gave me a new lens.
One where I value presence over performance. Rest over hustle. Depth over noise.
This isn’t the end of the story.
This is just the beginning of a chapter I didn’t know I was allowed to write.
To every woman reading this:
You are not invisible.
You are not past your prime.
You are still becoming.
And you are never, ever alone.
Let’s walk this journey together—with laughter, honesty, and maybe a fan or two in our purse.
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