Just let me moan I'm a perimenopausal woman

I am so fed up with myself right now. I tore a ligament in my knee at the start of December last year, and my poor body has been in a bit of a domino effect since the accident—which could have been avoided if people took better care of their dogs (but that’s a blog for another time).

Anyway, ligaments take ages to heal. I’ve hit the four-month mark now, and I’m 99.9% of the way there. I’ve had to relearn how to use my muscles, I’ve got a strength deficit in my legs, and I have to commit to doing the most boring, tedious exercises to make sure it heals properly.

The knock-on effect of this one injury? My vitamin D levels crashed through the floor because I wasn’t outside for weeks. Using crutches buggered up my neck and shoulders. Sitting for so long in one position did my body no favours. I had a two-week cluster migraine over Christmas and New Year—absolutely not the one.

Now, I’ve got tennis elbow, which is infuriating and painful, and just to add insult to injury, I’ve had the flu for the past week and a half. I’m bored of being poorly. I’m bored of being confined to either the bed or the bloody couch.

While trying to figure out what was up with my elbow, I suddenly became acutely aware that the old algorithm was now telling me it was due to perimenopause. I mean, I know I’m in peri—mainly because I invent words all the time now. The other day, I forgot the word "coaster," so they are now permanently called cup plates in our house. I actually quite enjoy the challenge of making up new names for things.

But the reason I’m a bit ticked off at the narrative that every little thing wrong with me now is down to peri is that it’s a vague, convenient explanation. One we can all nod along to because there’s no clear evidence to suggest otherwise.

Apparently, reams of women have tennis elbow because of peri—so I read on the forums—and they’ve had to stop doing what they love: crochet, gym, yoga, etc. Because nothing can be done about it. If I’m to believe them.

Thing is, when I went to A&E with endo flares, I was never told that’s what it was. Even though I had a diagnosis, I was confidently told it was likely IBS, appendicitis, trapped wind, bowel torsion—anything but the actual condition I had.

Until last year, when I thought I was dying from pain in the centre of my body. I didn’t go in the first night, but by the second night, I dragged myself to A&E. The staff were all lovely, caring, and wonderful—but they couldn’t find a cause. So they just said, It’s probably your endometriosis.

I don’t think for a second that it was my endo. I have no proof, but my best guess is that it was something in my gallbladder. I understand from being a nurse that healthcare professionals like to have an answer for why something is happening. It makes them feel like they’ve genuinely helped by giving you a reason for the unexplainable.

But on the other hand, reducing everything down to one narrative—without looking at the full picture—is misleading. It leads to strong narratives like the only way to navigate something is though H, R and T

Perimenopause impacts us, for sure. But it isn’t the only story of our 40s. I won’t go down without a fight on that one.

As I have mentioned before the last couple years have been tricky navigating estrangement, I believe my 40s have helped tremendously in helping me figure out some stuff. It has been tough going at times though and I certainly won’t accept being told that the reason I’m struggling is just down to perimenopause—rather than acknowledging that I might actually be unwinding massive patterns from my childhood. That feels a bit reductive, at best.

Yes, it’s a factor. But is it the whole story?

I’d like to see this midway point in my life that has moments of being very confusing jarring and confronting but also full of agency, growth and strength to really lean into the person I want to be for the next (hopefully) 40 years. I don’t identify with peri like I don’t with endo, first and foremost I am Gem who happens to be navigating these waters but they aren’t steering the boat. Sure they add some thrills and spills along the way but no more than any other challenge I have encountered in my life.

Maybe I am just fighting with the invisibility cloak of it all. Feeling like thats it now going forwards I’m just seen as a perimenopausal woman and thats it. I dunno, I’m just bored of the narrative I think, being told what to think about things has never really sat well with me, so I shouldn’t think it’s suddenly going to now.