Menopause Is Just One Wilted Rose Amongst A Much Larger Bouquet Of Blessings.

The cruel irony of menopause is that it comes as you finally feel that you’re finding your feet. But I wouldn’t throw a bunch of roses away if only one had wilted, so why would I do that with my life?

My forties have unequivocally been my best decade. Envisaging them years ago, I assumed I’d have everything figured out and be in some worry-free, part time work utopia, but they certainly didn’t work out that way. I was deeply unhappy in my early forties, but in hindsight I see that as a blessing because it led me to work hard on my mindset. I now have a life that truly excites me, something I don’t think I felt capable of creating so intentionally until I hit midlife.

I used to heavily base my decisions on external guidance, almost seeking permission from someone - or something - separate from me for fear of what people would think. But I finally learned that I had everything I needed to not only live life, but love it, if I listened to and trusted myself.

Which brought a wonderful dollop of unconditional happiness.

Then came menopause. The cruel irony is that it comes as you’re finally finding your feet, but although it certainly threw a temporary spanner in the works, it just deepened my commitment to be happy and grateful regardless of external factors.

So I made a conscious effort to keep being grateful for what I did have rather than moan about what I didn’t. When I was younger I’d be far too quick to say “I’ll be happy when…” as though when one element of my life wasn’t perfect, it invalidated the rest. But I wouldn’t throw a bunch of roses away if only one had wilted, so why would I do that with my life?

I’ve grown to accept that things are never perfect, and that happiness is more plentiful - and simple - than I ever realised.

Menopause is just one wilted rose amongst a much larger bouquet of blessings.