Neurodivergent Identity & Menopause

My Neurodivergent Pause: Living With AuDHD, APD and Dyslexia Through Perimenopause

I’m 53, and I think I’ve finally reached the pause. Not the poetic pause, not the “new chapter” pause — the hormonal pause. And I’m trying to understand what that means for someone like me: someone with AuDHD traits, Auditory Processing Disorder, and dyslexia‑related language processing differences.

For most of my life, I was a whirlwind. I could load the dishwasher while loading the washing machine, while every appliance in the house was running, while I was drawing, sewing, doing life admin, doing self‑care, caring for everyone. I lived in motion. I lived in multitasking. I lived in noise and movement and doing.

That was my normal. That was my rhythm. That was my neurodivergent brain at full speed.

Then perimenopause hit. And it felt like the Titanic hitting the iceberg.

Everything that used to be effortless suddenly collapsed. Some days felt like ADHD. Some days felt like autism. Some days felt like both. My audio‑processing would balance, then unbalance, then balance again. My brain would work, then not work. And it wasn’t “brain fog” — not the kind people talk about. It was like my brain couldn’t lift. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t sequence. My body could move — I can’t sit still — but my brain couldn’t follow.

Now, in the pause, I can see the aftermath clearly.

The dishwasher door left open. Washing left in the machine for days. The food bin tied but not taken out. The sewing machine out because I forgot I was halfway through a dress. Half‑started tasks everywhere.

Not failures — just evidence. Evidence of how exhausted my brain must have been. Evidence of how hard I was working without knowing it.

No wonder I never slept.

Now I sleep better — not perfectly, but better. Blood tests helped me understand what I was lacking. Diet has played a part too. I’ve been vegetarian since I was 16, but perimenopause pushed me into pescatarian territory, and maybe that’s helped. Neurodiversity and diet is a whole topic that deserves more research, especially for women.

But now my life is calm. Flat. Deflated in a good way. I can do the things I want to do. I can see who I was and who I am now. I’m still not consistent — maybe 75% stable, 25% dipped. Two weeks on, two weeks off. I feel it coming, I feel it going. Those are the bad days.

All I need now is for that part to go, or be named, or be treated.

Because the truth is: during those dips, I feel unemployable. Unmanageable. But at home, I’m manageable. Safe. Functional. Me.

You could say I was lucky. You could say I was unlucky. Neurodivergent women get taken advantage of. We give, we protect, we keep going until we fall down.

Now I am none of that. Now I am me.

And maybe that’s the real pause — not the hormones, but the moment you finally see yourself clearly.