It’s an arduous journey we menopausal goddesses have embarked upon. Without training, preparation, or a plan. Worse yet, without a choice.
Ascending the menopausal mountain is like climbing our own personal Everest. And like those intrepid Himalayan explorers, we encounter both joy and trauma along the way.
Our menopause adventure is a first ascent. Our own mothers’ journeys were often truncated or arrested at Base Camp Hysterectomy or Camp HRT. We have no guides to show us the way.
There is good news, however. We won’t have to make this climb on our own. With the support and sharing of our sister goddesses, this climb is do-able. Many of us are accompanied by our own Sherpas, our life mates (who have their own special name for the menopausal mountain which roughly translates to something like "Holy crap – what’s happening to my wife?")
Like other peak baggers, we find that our brain doesn’t work as well at these altitudes, we suffer from fatigue, and we are whipped by fierce winds (of change). But we also thrill to the discovery of the new heights and perspectives that accompany standing on the summit of the Second Half of Our Lives.
How does our climb differ most from the Everest adventurers? We’re laughing all the way up!!!