Feral Musings / Health & Fitness / Lifestyle

Perimenopause: The Prequel No One Asked For

Right, we need to talk. Because apparently, my hormones have gone rogue, my patience has been kidnapped, and my brain is starring in its own low-budget horror film. Welcome to perimenopause — the prequel no one asked for, but we’re all going to get whether we like it or not.

I think my official ticket to the perimenopause rollercoaster came in 2023.

Unofficially? I suspect I’ve been queuing for this ride for years, clutching my handbag and muttering at strangers, and we won’t even broach the subject of wheelie bins, which apparently is my new passion and obsession, I can’t seem ot stop talking about them.

At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was wrong — I just knew something was… off. Spoiler: it wasn’t my Wi-Fi, it was my hormones.

The anxiety crept in first. Then the mood swings. And by “mood swings,” I mean going from politely refusing to go somewhere to mentally planning the destruction of a stranger’s car because they cut me off in traffic. Road rage went from “I hope you get pulled over” to “I hope you blow a tyre at 70mph and flip over the barrier”. Dramatic? Yes. Over the top? Definitely. Do I mean it? Only on Tuesdays.

The Zombie Apocalypse in My Head

Some days I’m physically present but mentally… gone. I stare at people like I’m trying to see through their skulls, clench my jaw until my dentist could probably hear it from home, and move through the day on autopilot. Inside? It’s tumbleweeds and background static.

People? No Thanks

My patience for human interaction has sunk so low it could limbo under a door. Social events? Declined. Small talk? Deleted from my vocabulary. At this point, the devil is closer to heaven than I am when someone tests my patience — and honestly, I’m fine with that. Consider me a full card-carrying member of the We Do Not Care Club. I do not care about social functions, take me off the VIP list (OK Z-list).

Hotter Than the Sun

I now sleep with two fans and a cooling blanket because my core body temperature is apparently set to Inferno. Forget cosy nights in — I’m basically a human radiator with a permanent personal summer.

The New Body Issues

The list of physical surprises just keeps growing. Never-ending ear infections. A frozen shoulder so painful I’m still in physio. Skin that’s suddenly sensitive to everything. Phantom smells despite having anosmia. Heart palpitations. Lightheadedness after standing or laughing too hard. And my personal favourite: feeling like spiders are crawling over my skin 24/7. Delightful.

The Thoughts No One Tells You About

Do I have suicidal thoughts? No. But has the idea of casually driving my car into a railing just to see what happens crossed my mind? Absolutely. Apparently, my subconscious enjoys chaos.

Diagnosis: Perimenopause

Blood work? “Normal.” (The only normal thing about me at this point.) But my GP listened, noted the laundry list of symptoms, and handed over the patches. So here I am: officially in peri-menopause territory. Still can’t get vodka on prescription on the NHS, though. Disgraceful.

If You’re Here Too…

You’re not alone, even if you feel like a malfunctioning robot. And while we can’t fix the hormones overnight, we can find people who make us laugh about it.

Some funny, relatable accounts worth following for daily perimenopause solidarity:

• @menopausebarbie – Sharp humour, zero filter, pure gold.
• @hotflashell – Memes, rants, and the occasional cry-laugh moment.
• @themenopauser – British, brutally honest, and hysterically relatable.
• @wearedoingmenopause – For when you want your hot flushes served with sass.
• @justbeingmelani – Founder of the We Do Not Care Club, where zero sh*ts are given and the laughs are mandatory.

Perimenopause: the prequel no one asked for, starring you, your hormones, and a supporting cast of bizarre symptoms. You can’t script it, but you can survive it — preferably with fans, a sense of humour, and the occasional violent daydream about bad drivers.