More Than Menopause - Repeating

More Than Menopause: The 28‑Day Pattern I Was Never Told About

More Than Menopause - Repeating things because ND Menopausal women forget as fast as they learn

I keep saying I’m not good with words, but the truth is I’m too good with them. My problem isn’t expression — it’s overflow. And now that I’ve started documenting my days, my outfits, my dips, my speed, my confusion, I can finally see what’s been hiding in plain sight.

I am still on a 28‑day cycle, even without periods.

A month ago, the exact same thing happened. The same dip. The same confusion. The same “why bother” that is not me. I can literally scroll back through my reels and watch myself slide out of myself.

The Early Signs I Keep Missing

It starts quietly:

I don’t do my hair - Curl appreciation is important to me.
I skip makeup - I'm there or not I care or not.
My outfits feel wrong
I look at myself and think, What was I even doing?
I go from full Sex‑and‑the‑City glam to “just comfortable”

And that’s the first red flag — because that’s not who I am.

Then the Physical Symptoms Hit

This part is messy, but honesty matters:

Headaches
Morning sickness
Bladder urgency and leaking
Bowel urgency that comes like a butterfly — one second fine, the next sprinting
Feeling physically “not myself”
Injuries that don’t heal quickly because my oestrogen is low

It’s like my body forgets how to be my body,l like flu that comes on fast and then leaves in days.

The ND Layer Makes Everything Louder

This is where it gets complicated.

My AuDHD brain goes into overdrive — then crashes. I start a million things and finish none. The house gets wrecked. Time disappears. Medication disappears. I disappear.

I become high‑functioning in words, art, ideas — but not in doing. Not in living. Not in being in my body.

It feels like disassociation wearing my clothes.

The Medication Chaos

This month I ran out of my hot‑flush medication. Not because I’m careless — because my brain literally drops out.

I thought the pills would “just arrive.” I thought I had more. I thought I’d ordered them. I thought the chemist would have them. I thought wrong.

The old me would have had three months backed up. The new me is three hours late taking something that should have been swallowed at 7pm.

And the chemist telling me I’m HRT‑exempt one minute and not the next? It’s enough to make anyone unravel.

The Emotional Punch

This is the part I don’t like admitting:

There’s a moment in the dip where I think, What if I don’t come back this time?

What if my brain stays like this? What if this is the new baseline? What if this is the future?

And then I look at my daughter — her PMDD, her autoimmune condition — and I wonder if this is generational. If something has been missed. If we’re both walking around with a hormonal landmine no one in the UK seems trained to see.

The Only Reason I’m Surviving This

I’m dyslexic, so I see patterns. I’m ND, so I need evidence. I’m scared,(I was but now I've lost that) I can't control it so I document everything.

Utterly Chaos but still I feel some clarity - proof I am believed if required.

My reels show what doctors don’t see. My blog holds the version of me I’m terrified of losing. My OOTD's are not vanity — they’re data. If I dip and don’t come back, someone will know what happened.

And then — in the middle of all this — an Australian PMDD specialist emails me back. Answers my questions. Sends me her research. For free.

Meanwhile, the UK menopause system is… well, you know.

Dear Molly, my strong, funny, tenacious, independent, courageous daughter.

Dear Molly, my strong, funny, tenacious, independent, courageous daughter. So if I got paid for every time someone told me my daughter looks fabulous, I’d be a millionaire. A millionaire for every doctor who ignored you, for every professional who let you slip through the cracks, for every moment when the full information, the full picture, the full respect wasn’t given. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Today is for you, Molly. And for the future generations of our family — because this is genetic, because this is inherited, because someone needs to notice and someone needs to ask the right questions. I have become, by necessity, a hormonal expert. A mother who had to learn what the system refused to teach. And through it all, your husband — your rock — has moved mountains beside you, carrying what others refused to see, loving you through every unseen storm. I wish PMDD looked like your arm falling off. Because if people could see it, they’d care. Docto...

Going Shopping in the Menopausal Way

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The Baby Whale and the Circle of Sharks

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Hello Wall - Hormonal Heart Poetry

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