Your post, Heidi, made me recall a workplace menopause moment. I kept a small fan on my desk for when the random hot flash would hit. One winter day I was meeting with a young male employee, who was seated on the opposite side of my desk. As the heat started rising up from my chest, I casually (so I thought) reached over and turned on the fan. With a quizzical look on his face, the young man and asked, "Are you hot?" I simply said yes, then returned to our conversation. I had no other words at my disposal. In boardrooms, I'd hold a cold bottle of water against my wrist hoping that would tame the heat. It rarely did. Yes, yes, we need education and conversation about this natural phase of life, which is not indicative of a "decline."
Thank you so much for sharing this Donna. What you described is something I hear often—both in my practice and through interviews with my Pink Zones women. I’m grateful you added your voice here. It’s stories like yours that remind us why education and reframing this transition matters so much!
I wholeheartedly agree with you, Heidi, the conversation needs to change. More to the point of my experience, we need to start having these conversations. They are sorely needed. I remember reading an interview with Gale Sheehy during which she mentioned that her book on menopause, "The Silent Passage," was reported to be the most stollen from bookstores at that time it was published. Women wanted to read it but were embarrassed to be seen buying it. I have to think times have changed, but the lack of understanding persists.
Wow, you're so right about first needing to first have the conversation! That's a wild story Cathy about the book "The Silent Passage" . So aptly named!
Amazing article Dr. Heidi, thank you. The process of organic menopause shouldn't be a medical problem or addressed like a disorder simply because it makes the people committed to outdated work cultures uncomfortable.
I can't say much about menopause disrupting, but I can say that peri sent me reeling. I had a fibroid that caused massive massive bleeding for years before I could be persuaded to take care of it surgically. And thus, I spent years bleeding through my clothes, afraid during key professional moments, that I'd experience a surge. It was debilitating and shame-inducing but I kept thinking I should keep it to myself, shut up and deal, bc eventually it would subside. I cannot imagine a world in which it's professionally acceptable to talk about blood. And yet, half the population bleeds monthly. An equitable society would acknowledge that!
I just want to say first — I watched your movie Ramona at Midlife and loved it! You captured so much with humour, honesty, and heart.
And second, thank you for sharing this openly here. Your story captures the silent toll many of us endure — and how deeply (throughout both our cycling and then menopausal years) we’re conditioned to “shut up and deal” rather than speak about what’s real.
It makes me wonder: what if we acknowledged the realities of our bodies, instead of treating them like inconveniences to be concealed — the way pregnant bodies were once expected to hide the “baby bump” for as long as possible?
It reminds me of something a Pink Zones icon, bell hooks said: "To be truly visionary, we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality."
Your post, Heidi, made me recall a workplace menopause moment. I kept a small fan on my desk for when the random hot flash would hit. One winter day I was meeting with a young male employee, who was seated on the opposite side of my desk. As the heat started rising up from my chest, I casually (so I thought) reached over and turned on the fan. With a quizzical look on his face, the young man and asked, "Are you hot?" I simply said yes, then returned to our conversation. I had no other words at my disposal. In boardrooms, I'd hold a cold bottle of water against my wrist hoping that would tame the heat. It rarely did. Yes, yes, we need education and conversation about this natural phase of life, which is not indicative of a "decline."
Thank you so much for sharing this Donna. What you described is something I hear often—both in my practice and through interviews with my Pink Zones women. I’m grateful you added your voice here. It’s stories like yours that remind us why education and reframing this transition matters so much!
I wholeheartedly agree with you, Heidi, the conversation needs to change. More to the point of my experience, we need to start having these conversations. They are sorely needed. I remember reading an interview with Gale Sheehy during which she mentioned that her book on menopause, "The Silent Passage," was reported to be the most stollen from bookstores at that time it was published. Women wanted to read it but were embarrassed to be seen buying it. I have to think times have changed, but the lack of understanding persists.
Wow, you're so right about first needing to first have the conversation! That's a wild story Cathy about the book "The Silent Passage" . So aptly named!
Amazing article Dr. Heidi, thank you. The process of organic menopause shouldn't be a medical problem or addressed like a disorder simply because it makes the people committed to outdated work cultures uncomfortable.
Thank you Maria. Well said!
I can't say much about menopause disrupting, but I can say that peri sent me reeling. I had a fibroid that caused massive massive bleeding for years before I could be persuaded to take care of it surgically. And thus, I spent years bleeding through my clothes, afraid during key professional moments, that I'd experience a surge. It was debilitating and shame-inducing but I kept thinking I should keep it to myself, shut up and deal, bc eventually it would subside. I cannot imagine a world in which it's professionally acceptable to talk about blood. And yet, half the population bleeds monthly. An equitable society would acknowledge that!
I just want to say first — I watched your movie Ramona at Midlife and loved it! You captured so much with humour, honesty, and heart.
And second, thank you for sharing this openly here. Your story captures the silent toll many of us endure — and how deeply (throughout both our cycling and then menopausal years) we’re conditioned to “shut up and deal” rather than speak about what’s real.
It makes me wonder: what if we acknowledged the realities of our bodies, instead of treating them like inconveniences to be concealed — the way pregnant bodies were once expected to hide the “baby bump” for as long as possible?
It reminds me of something a Pink Zones icon, bell hooks said: "To be truly visionary, we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality."