At 54, I find myself navigating the unpredictable waters of menopause—a journey that has more profound implications for my professional life as a child and adolescent psychologist than I thought it would. For decades, I have helped young people and their families grapple with anxiety, OCD, Tourette’s Disorder, and developmental challenges. Yet, in recent years, my own cognitive and emotional framework has shifted, challenging the way I show up for my clients and colleagues.
Perimenopause and menopause are more than medical milestones women face; they are transformative life stages marked by a variety of symptoms associated with fluctuating hormone levels. These symptoms, often invisible to others, can undermine confidence —a quality that is foundational in therapy work. There are days when I worry about recalling a client’s history or maintaining the emotional steadiness that is expected of me. At times, my patience wears thin, or I find myself searching for words mid-session. It’s humbling, and occasionally, it’s embarrassing.
Being a psychologist requires unwavering attention and empathy. Yet, when menopause disrupts my sleep, I wake up exhausted, yet am still expected to provide guidance, support, insight, and compassion. I am trying to learn to be gentle with myself, accepting that my capacity may ebb and flow and that the mental acuity of my youth (gosh, even of my 40s) isn’t always there. Through conversations with friends and colleagues I know I am not alone. But many women quietly wrestle with these changes, unsure how much to disclose or how to seek help.
We need greater awareness and open conversations about this stage of life. Why is it that when I was pregnant or a mom of young children, everyone looked at fatigue, memory issues, or feeling irritable as understandable? We talked about it, and lots of people had helpful suggestions or “this is what worked for me” comments. But now, the world seems to treat this stage as somewhat shameful or something we don’t talk about. At times it even feels that the world is less tolerant of the gamut of symptoms I experience. I recall sending an email a few months back to a colleague who was apologizing for baby brain. My response was “I see your baby brain and raise you with a menopausal one.”
On a personal level, I try practical strategies: prioritizing sleep, ensuring I exercise, and using techniques to help manage my somewhat erratic emotions. I advocate for myself with my physician. I read books and listen to podcasts that help me understand what is occurring in my body. With my friends and colleagues, we talk about the changes in our bodies, acknowledge the challenges, and discuss what we are doing to gain some degree of control, in what feels like an uncomfortable roller coaster ride.
As a psychologist, I know change is inevitable. I know adapting and seeking support when needed is important. Now I acknowledge that menopause has complicated my work, but it has also deepened my empathy, broadened my perspective, and strengthened my commitment to honest conversation. If we cultivate understanding and provide practical support, we will continue to thrive, bringing wisdom and compassion to the next generation.
