When my cycle first changed, I panicked a little. Missing a period felt like something was wrong, but my doctor explained it’s extremely common during perimenopause. Hormones begin fluctuating, so cycles may come late, get lighter, heavier, or skip altogether. It doesn’t mean menopause has fully started—it’s just the body shifting. Still, the uncertainty made me feel uneasy, so I kept track of my cycles and talked with a doctor for reassurance.

I definitely worried when my period didn’t arrive, but my healthcare provider reminded me that irregularity is a normal part of the transition. Still, they also said that if a period is missing for several months, or if something feels ‘off,’ it’s worth checking in—just to rule out anything unrelated to menopause, like thyroid issues or stress changes. For me, speaking to a doctor gave me peace of mind more than anything else.

Honestly? I’ve had days where I’d just stare at the ceiling and wonder, “What’s the point of all this?” No amount of success or social interaction filled that hollow space. What helped wasn’t a sudden breakthrough — it was small things. A walk with my dog. The smell of coffee in the morning. And slowly, I realized meaning isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet and waiting.

When I hit rock bottom, I stopped asking, “What’s the big purpose?” and instead asked, “What can I care about today?” For me, it was volunteering at an animal shelter. Watching a rescued dog wag its tail reminded me that even small acts mean something. You don’t need a grand mission — just one thing that makes you feel something again.

I remember staring at my closet one day thinking, “Who even am I now?” I had merged into his world so much that I lost track of mine. I started doing small things just for me—taking a pottery class, writing again, volunteering. He supported it all. Depending on him didn’t mean disappearing into his shadow. It meant having the safety to find myself again. And that, to me, was liberation.