I feel like the world did a pretty good job of preparing me for a lot of things in life, but menopause wasn’t one of them. I mean seriously. A little heads-up would’ve been nice.
One day you’re wearing your favorite skinny jeans, and the next minute your Amazon leggings are tight. Night sweats, hair loss, and the full-blown mental breakdown mode¹ that seems to complement my new personality these days was not on my schedule. Why was I not warned about this?
I mean I guess the older women complaining in the office about the heat when it was 65 degrees should’ve been a precursor, but honestly, I just thought they were complainers.
Menopause Hit Without Warning
Last week I was at my son’s baseball game, and I walked right past all the dads into the men’s washroom. You would think the smell and urinals would have given me the hint, but nope—I went straight to the stall. I have to admit, something did feel a little off, but it wasn’t until I heard boots clanking against the floor and my husband say “Laila” in a confused tone that I realized what I had done. Am I losing it?
Memory loss, weight gain, emotional outbursts, and hot flashes are yet another gift we women must endure. And while I wasn’t planning on going into full blown menopause at 37, Mother Nature had other plans for me.
I was not prepared.
Snappy emails, a lack of patience with friends, and a few choice words for a lady in Costco have not been some of my finest moments.
There have been days when the old me was just a silent whisper in my head saying “Laila calm down” as I raged at the kids for something meaningless and unimportant. Feeling horrible about it, but somehow not being able to talk myself down. And I have spent more time than I would like to admit feeling guilty about it.
I don’t want to point fingers here, but seriously Eve. Could you not have just taken one for the team?
For all the bad that menopause has to offer and trust me there is bad. There was one small quiet lesson the Lord was trying to teach me. I just had to stop complaining long enough to listen.
What Menopause Taught Me About Grace
The unearned, unmerited favor and love of God toward humanity. Often described as receiving good things we do not deserve.
Grace in those hard moments when I felt like I was really losing it. Grace for when I messed up with my kids and had to apologize. Grace for the snappy email and the unfortunate Costco encounter, and grace for the women around me.
See, I used to be so quick to write off the angry woman in the grocery store as rude. The snappy coworker? Not my person. The over-opinionated PTA moms. Forget it! I rarely stopped to look beneath it all into the woman they might really be. I rarely gave out grace.
But what if, underneath it all, there was a woman like me—struggling through this phase in life? Who was tired and overworked and dealing with raging hormones? And who—just like me—was completely blindsided, feeling like she had no control?
What would it look like if, instead of judging her or writing her off, I offered her the grace I so desperately needed myself?
What if, as women, we came alongside each other offering forgiveness and understanding in the middle of the mess, the mood swings, the mistakes?
Sure, there are always going to be the few who no matter how hard you try, are just unkind. But for every one of those, I bet there are 20 more who are at the beginning, middle, or end of the crazy ride we call menopause.
Will You Choose Grace Over Judgment?
What would it look like if we chose grace instead of judgment? If instead of harboring resentment, we chose to pause and see where we could help. It might seem insignificant in the moment, but I can’t help but believe that small ripples, over time, create a mighty wave.
I don’t know what’s on the other side of menopause. Heck, I didn’t even know this was coming. And I’d like to say that I have come out on the other side. But after years of struggling with hormone replacement therapy, emotional breakdowns, and more grey hair than I can pull out, I am still trying to figure it all out. I do know this though: It’s given me a new perspective on women.
A new perspective on the strength our bodies carry, on our ability to endure almost anything, and on the quiet, powerful grace we can choose to offer and the difference that it makes.
It’s given me a new compassion for the “rude” woman in the grocery store. And a deeper understanding of grace. That unearned, unmerited favor and love.
This new chapter of my life might not be one that I would have chosen, but I do know that all things work together for the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28). And if sweating through the sheets at night somehow gives me more love for the women I come across each day, then I will take it.
Grace is the unearned, unmerited favor and love of God toward humanity. It was given freely to be given freely. So, I am going to do my best to give it. To receive it. And to share it with every woman I can. Hormonal outbursts and all.
