Finding the Power in My Pause

I’ve spent my entire adult life in fitness. I teach yoga, Pilates, barre, cycling, bootcamp — you name it. I move twelve hours a week without blinking. I eat well, I take care of my body, and my weight has been steady at 130 pounds for as long as I can remember.

And then, almost overnight, my body started rewriting the rules.

I’ve gained 15 pounds since February. Fifteen. Without changing my workouts, without eating donuts for breakfast, without skipping class. I’m now also covered in cellulite in places I’ve never had it before — the kind that can make even the fittest girl look flabby. On top of that, I’ve been hit with miserable night sweats and random hot flashes that have me stripping off layers in public like I’m in some kind of personal climate crisis.

My poor boyfriend has been a saint through it all — he even bought me cooling sheets. My nurse practitioner, in what I can only assume was an attempt at empathy, suggested silk pajamas because “they dry quicker.” I now own PJs that make me feel like I’m starring in an old Hollywood film while simultaneously soaking through them at 3 a.m.

And let me tell you, there is nothing glamorous about waking up drenched, shivering under the AC, painfully frozen and half-whimpering as I strip off the soaked pajamas, reaching for the dry pair waiting next to the bed like a pit crew for my midnight misery.

I started to wonder what was happening — anemia? thyroid? stress? So I asked for bloodwork. My labs came back and my FSH was sky-high. No one called me about it. No one explained it. If I hadn’t looked at my own results and Googled like a woman possessed, I’d still be wondering if my body was just broken for no reason.

Spoiler: I’m in menopause.

The second set of bloodwork, I specifically requested from my male doctor’s female nurse practitioner — because reasons. I don’t prefer to talk about my reproductive system with men who aren’t attuned to our unique and problematic symptoms. I thought for sure I wouldn’t go into menopause this early — hell, I didn’t even get my period until I was 17.

And here’s what I’ve learned: power is information. It’s having the numbers in front of you, understanding what they mean, and refusing to accept “it’s just aging” as an answer. Power is tenacity — asking the next question, pushing for the next test, not letting your concerns get brushed off. And most of all, power is advocating for yourself — speaking up, insisting on clarity, and not stopping until you get it.

All of these symptoms sound limiting, I’m sure, as they should. But there has to be an answer here somewhere — there has to be strength we can muster, because what are women if we aren’t built tough as nails?

So how do we handle menopause like a boss? We start by pausing just long enough to get our bearings, then moving forward with purpose — without the men, without the dismissive “it’s just aging” speech, and without becoming one of those women who offers only cautionary tales and zero useful advice.

I want you to find the power in your pause, too. Let’s do this together.

Because the pause doesn’t have to mean powerlessness. It can be a pivot point. A reclamation. A time to stop letting other people tell our stories and start telling them ourselves.

If you’ve ever been blindsided by your own body, told to “just wait it out,” or dismissed when you knew something was wrong — you’re in the right place.