02/22/2024
About a year ago, my doctor said that she thought I was going through early menopause. I’d been having very sporadic cycles and waking up in the middle of the night for hours. Naturally, I scoffed at her and replied that stress and anxiety were to blame. Afterall I was only 42, I had friends who had become pregnant at my age. Another year of worsening sleep (totally reminiscent of early postpartum but instead of a baby to show for it, I only had bags under my eyes and an extremely short fuse—I have been a true joy to be around) we ran my hormone levels again and they were even lower.
I’ve been reluctant to say the word menopause to myself, let alone out loud, because it feels so weighted. I’ve felt as nervous as when I told people I was pregnant. Society seems to have little appetite for women aging or changing shape. And being an athlete my entire adult life, I saw my body as a reflection of my worth and relevance. My weight, my stomach, my muscles (or lack of), my “marketability” have all been talked about like I was a menu to improve.
I didn’t grow up seeing grey-haired women in climbing advertisements or talking openly about menopause symptoms. Similarly I didn’t see pregnant women climbing or talking about postpartum. And while it feels slightly perilous to be talking about this, I’ve found these under-discussed topics to be a gift, mostly for myself to ask why I’m so uncomfortable.
A huge part of climbing culture was built around shunning social norms, and we’ve come so far in terms of equity and diversity in climbing, but we still have a long way to go. Afterall, shouldn’t a little girl who starts climbing today see examples of women ten, twenty, fifty years older than her still thriving in a sport that we all love? //
