As a 50 year old woman who has struggled with her reproductive health since the age of 15, I can honestly say that this part of my life has never been easy.
I started my period at 11 years old. By the time I was 15, the pain and symptoms were almost unbearable. For two full weeks before every period, I was essentially nonfunctional. I was exhausted, achy, cramping, foggy, and emotionally drained. Then my period would arrive and I would bleed heavily for three or four days in significant pain. After that, I would get one brief week of relief. One peaceful week where I felt like myself. Then the cycle would begin again. That was my normal for decades.
As I moved into my 30s, things became more complicated. I began developing ovarian tumors, fibroids, and cysts. Surgeries became part of my life. Each time I hoped it would be the last. Each time something new would grow back. By my mid 40s, I had undergone six surgeries and was facing yet another round of bleeding fibroids and tumors. I was tired. Tired of procedures. Tired of pain. Tired of planning my life around symptoms.
At 45, I made the decision to have a hysterectomy.
In September 2021, I had my uterus and cervix removed, keeping my ovaries. At that point the surgery was not elective in any meaningful way. My endometriosis was so severe that my bladder had fused to my uterus. I had three massive fibroids and another tumor on my ovary. No one tested my hormone levels before the decision was made. It never even occurred to me to ask. My mother did not go through menopause until her mid 50s. I was still getting a regular monthly cycle at 45. The idea that I could have been in perimenopause simply did not enter my mind.
The surgery lasted three hours. I was cut across my abdomen, leaving an eight inch scar. Because my internal anatomy was so compromised, my bladder was severely damaged during the procedure. My surgeon was excellent and did everything she could. My insides were just a mess.
When I woke up, the pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced. And that is saying something, because I had lived with pain for most of my adult life. My bladder felt like it was on fire. I remember screaming in my hospital bed, begging for relief. It took hours before the pain was brought under control. The entire experience was traumatic. I would not wish it on anyone.
What no one prepared me for was the grief.
Even when those organs have caused you years of suffering, they are still part of you. They are tied to identity in ways that are difficult to explain. I did not have children. Realistically, given my medical history, carrying a pregnancy would have been nearly impossible. Beyond the physical barriers, I carried the weight of a difficult childhood and decades of emotional work. After almost twenty years of therapy, I still felt strongly that I did not want to bring a child into a world I was not sure I could make better for them. Still, removing those organs felt like closing a door forever. It was a loss. And I barely allowed myself to process it because I was focused on surviving the surgery.
Then in December 2021, my mother was hospitalized and passed away ten days later. Three weeks after that, my 58 year old aunt, her younger sister, died unexpectedly as well. The grief was overwhelming. It felt like the ground beneath me was shifting constantly. The last quarter of 2021 was one of the hardest periods of my life.
In 2022, new symptoms began to appear. Anxiety that felt foreign and intense. Waking up at 3 in the morning every single night with my heart racing. No restorative sleep. Brain fog so thick I felt like I was walking through life underwater. I gained weight despite eating very little. I blamed everything except hormones. Trauma. Grief. Stress. Wine. Lack of exercise. Depression. I could find a reason for all of it.
I knew, intellectually, that ovaries can begin to fail within several years after a hysterectomy. But menopause did not occur to me. I was only in my mid 40s.
My weight climbed to 220 pounds. Nothing worked. Gym memberships. Crash diets. Sobriety. Eliminating sugar. Increasing protein. Decreasing calories. Discipline was not the issue. In May of 2023, I started a GLP 1 medication and lost 45 pounds in three months. I felt hopeful. My joints hurt less. My inflammation improved. I could breathe easier. I had a bit more energy.
But then in 2024 and into 2025, the weight began creeping back. I could not lose a single pound no matter how strict I was. My brain fog worsened. My libido disappeared completely. My entire body ached. I had a constant sensation in my throat like someone was choking me. I was told it was reflux. It was not. I was made to feel anxious. Dramatic. Emotional.
Last month, I finally had my hormones tested.
I was not in perimenopause.
I was post menopausal.
My estrogen and testosterone levels were almost nonexistent. My body had been operating in a severe hormonal deficit. No wonder I felt like I was unraveling. No wonder my mind could not focus. No wonder I felt exhausted to my core.
I recently started hormone replacement therapy. I am not even a week in and I already feel shifts. Subtle, but real. My anxiety is lower. My mind feels clearer. There is a sense that my body is finally being supported instead of ignored.
If you are in your late 40s or early 50s and feel like you are losing yourself, please consider getting your hormones tested. If you feel like you are dying, or going crazy, or becoming someone you do not recognize, it may not be a character flaw or a personal failure. It may not just be stress or grief.
Sometimes it is biology.
And biology deserves attention, compassion, and treatment.
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