Welcome to Go With The Flow. As usual the quick run-down of the phases for those just joining the group. Click on any phase to listen to or read more about how our bodies menstrual phases line up with the seasons and how you can harness each one to Go With The Flow.
Winter phase- menstruation Day 1-Day 6ish- New Moon
Spring phase- follicular Day 7ish-Day 13ish- Waxing Moon
Summer phase- ovulation Day 14ish -Day 19ish- Full Moon
Fall phase- luteal Day 20ish-Day 28ish- Waning Moon
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Being on the other side of perimenopause sounds like freedom of sorts. I know that for many, there is a relief of no longer being bound to the cycles. Understanding my cycles on a deep level—knowing my unique phases and abilities—has been life-changing. When I ovulate, I experience this awareness fully. Each inner season has its own beauty: Spring phase brings powerful vitality and ambition; Summer phase is abundant with expression and a tangible glow; Fall phase bursts forth with unpredictable weather and wild beauty; and Winter phase offers a final respite and renewal. It was only as I entered perimenopause that I finally came to love my cycles.
It’s like finally appreciating all four seasons, even Winter. There is a predictability to the seasons, even if I don’t know whether there will be a harsh Winter, a blustery Spring, a sweltering Summer, or a stormy Autumn. They guide me through life’s cycles, one month at a time.
When I don’t ovulate, every phase feels like Fall. The practice of letting go intensifies. It’s an unknown and uncomfortable place—like exiting a familiar world into a wilderness I’ve never known. Like Fall, the day can start cold, with chilly hands and feet, but by afternoon, the sun may unexpectedly surge with heat, bringing along a wave of anxiety. “Wear layers,” they say. Yes, the Fall phase of life is full of layers.
I am changing. I don’t love who I am during this time. I feel easily overwhelmed, jumpy, and too tired to go out most of the time. My personal energy bubble expands too much, making me acutely aware of the energy of others. I have to constantly pull my energy back into my personal space, reminding myself where I stop and others begin. Holding this personal space for myself—remembering not to insert myself into strangers' conversations and knowing when to hold my tongue or engage—is tiring some days.
Who is this? Am I still me? When did I become not fun, I wonder.
Perimenopause is a long metamorphosis, and the dormancy of needing to cocoon is not encouraged in this world. In this cocoon, it is messy and gooey; surely who I was is no longer, yet who I am or am becoming has yet to appear.
I stand by the river, savoring this much-needed time in nature, and I sway. I hold myself and sway, reminiscent of how I used to move when I was pregnant and so uncomfortable. I would rock my hips in a figure-eight motion, finding self-soothing comfort. I feel this again. This Fall phase of life resembles puberty and pregnancy, all bundled into a confusion of strange days and numerous symptoms. And I think, “I made it this far. I walked through puberty, and I carried a baby inside me for nine hard, beautiful months. I can do this.”
Puberty plus pregnancy for five to ten years. I dig deep within myself. I am five years into perimenopause. I remind myself that I won’t die from it, even if the symptoms seem debilitating some days. Some women never had a hard period; some never had a difficult pregnancy. That is not my story. My journeys with both were challenging. And I think of all the other women who have faced hardships, and I see you. I raise my glass to you.
This is a birthing of sorts—birthing out of the ability to give birth, out of the world’s perceived value, out of my youth, and out of this world. I will no longer be capable of pregnancy and birth, but I believe this will lead to something greater, a spiritual journey. I remember that as I decrease, Christ increases within me. I will find joy in His strength.
Some months, I feel ready to navigate this wilderness and its unknown, hostile territory, to the other side—free from monthly cycles. Other times, I want to stay in the familiar, as uncomfortable as it is. I know this phase of life is pushing me deeper into the wilderness each month. How do I reach the other side? I continue to surrender and find gratitude in having glimpsed the design of being female—it is a glorious mystery.
Go With The Flow,
September is Perimenopause Awareness Month! If you have a peri-friend don’t forget to share. The more we open up and share our experiences the more we band together and help each other.
I’ve read this piece a few times now. I keep coming back to it. I’m about five years in, too - and I’ve definitely been calling it a cocoon.
Have you read Wise Power? They talk about the phases of the cycle and of a woman’s life as seasons as well. They say after the autumn of peri and the winter of early post-menopause, a spring emerges again. I like thinking about this. Especially because the “mini seasons” that occur within my peri cycles don’t ever quite feel like spring or summer anymore, even when I’m in the follicular phase there’s a sense of autumn. I think that’s why I love that season, and winter, so much now…and have for years. I jive much more with the rhythms of the quiet dark.
Thank you for your words. It helps to know that it's a shared experience. Yes, some days are very challenging to remember to let go a little more every moment.
You've captured so many of my wispy thoughts and emotions and put them into words, thank you. For me, perimenopause is definitely the goo phase - someplace between caterpillar and butterfly. I might not know how I'm going to arrive at the butterfly stage, but I no longer recognize the caterpillar either. As you say, it's a process of letting go and learning how to stay open and curious while moving forward into the unknown. Easier said than done some days.
When I'm in the thick of the goop and gunk of perimenopause symptoms and can't think my way out, I'm going to read this and remember that it's all okay. The beauty of your words, the grace in allowing my body to do it's thing and give it space, and knowing I have a friend in the process that I met right here on Substack. I'm going to add this one to my favorite article resource list and restack it.
I’ve read this piece a few times now. I keep coming back to it. I’m about five years in, too - and I’ve definitely been calling it a cocoon.
Have you read Wise Power? They talk about the phases of the cycle and of a woman’s life as seasons as well. They say after the autumn of peri and the winter of early post-menopause, a spring emerges again. I like thinking about this. Especially because the “mini seasons” that occur within my peri cycles don’t ever quite feel like spring or summer anymore, even when I’m in the follicular phase there’s a sense of autumn. I think that’s why I love that season, and winter, so much now…and have for years. I jive much more with the rhythms of the quiet dark.
Thank you for your reflections 💕
Thank you for your words. It helps to know that it's a shared experience. Yes, some days are very challenging to remember to let go a little more every moment.
You've captured so many of my wispy thoughts and emotions and put them into words, thank you. For me, perimenopause is definitely the goo phase - someplace between caterpillar and butterfly. I might not know how I'm going to arrive at the butterfly stage, but I no longer recognize the caterpillar either. As you say, it's a process of letting go and learning how to stay open and curious while moving forward into the unknown. Easier said than done some days.
When I'm in the thick of the goop and gunk of perimenopause symptoms and can't think my way out, I'm going to read this and remember that it's all okay. The beauty of your words, the grace in allowing my body to do it's thing and give it space, and knowing I have a friend in the process that I met right here on Substack. I'm going to add this one to my favorite article resource list and restack it.