If there was one moment that confirmed I needed help, it was bursting into tears at the GP surgery when I was told there were no appointments.
In truth, I’d needed help years before that as I suffered from a series of ailments I now know were menopausal; from losing my hair to aching joints that woke me at night, to palpitations so scary they had me in A&E. Each month seemed to present a new problem, despite the fact I was training for a half-marathon and in the best shape I’d ever been. Then there were mood swings, although that’s too mild a phrase for feeling I could take on the world one minute to believing all its 7.5 billion inhabitants hated me the next.
At work I turned down more responsibility or promoted positions, no longer confident I could do an adequate job. Yet I was also angry – Hulk angry. When not worrying about my job, my sleepless nights were filled with a rage I’ve never felt before. When my periods became irregular I knew menopause was approaching and when the hot flushes began I started researching, realising everything I’d gone through had been menopause.
I wish I could say it has been plain sailing since that tearful day at the GP, but hormone replacement therapy (HRT) is a hit-and-miss game until you find the formula that works. But I’m one month into a new regime and finally I’ve found peace.