If there is any one line that defines my experience with menopause, it is: deodorant before bed.
Once, long ago, in the glory days before 50, I was not a sweaty person. In fact, I probably should have sweat more. I just didn't. I went through a small phase in my 30s when my husband and I thought jogging was going to be our thing — we came to our senses pretty quickly. I would see other people on the trail, full-on sweating. Not me. I barely needed a shower after.
Fast forward to now. I need a shower after sleeping. Sleeping creates more sweat than jogging did 25 years ago. It offends me AND my poor husband. Heaven forbid he tries to cuddle me in the middle of the night. Two minutes in and he's: "Oh my God, you are a sweaty heat machine — shouldn't this phase be done by now?!" The phase he is referring to is the one that strips all the hormones from a woman's body and turns everything upside down. Literally. Boobs that were once up are down. Libido down. Sleep up. Energy down. Weight up. Brain down.
Every woman experiences this joyous time differently. For me, the main lingering ingredient is that my internal thermostat doesn't work at all. I asked my aunt not that long ago how long her hot flashes lasted. "Do you really want to know? I think they tapered off around 70." Oh for f's sake. Okay, maybe I didn't really want to know.
My new night-to-morning ritual: put on deodorant, sleep, sweat, wake up, have two cups of coffee, sweat more. Once all the coffee sweating is finished, I stand at the sink and wash the pits. There has to be a better way to put that — something that would not make an influencer cringe. Ah, apparently the formal term for armpit is axilla. I freshen the axilla. Before I go for a long walk. Sweat, and freshen the axilla once more. It is just one of those things, like skin tags, that arrives without invitation and stays indefinitely.
The sweat situation is heightened by the arrival of a cyst in my right armpit. It showed up right around the time the hot flashes did. Being completely reasonable, I assumed I had cancer of the lymph node and less than a year to live. I was assured: no, no. Just a perfectly harmless cyst that would be more comfortable if I didn't shave as often and switched to a deodorant without antiperspirant. So, a deodorant that does nothing for sweat. Right as I am entering the sweat portion of my life. Super.
The good news: the mood swings came and went pretty swiftly. Thank God. I have never felt such misplaced rage — just stupid, stupid stuff. My husband eating Lucky Charms would send me into a frenzy. I would stare at the back of his head wishing my eyes were lasers that would freeze his jaw indefinitely. No one had ever chewed so annoyingly. I would stomp off and turn back to give him an evil glare. "What? What did I do?" Of course I couldn't tell him that his mere existence was the problem. There is nothing like knowing you are being unreasonable, registering it, being mindful of it, and then continuing down the unreasonable path anyway.
Looking back, I am happy to have moved on from that phase of the phase. Misplaced rage has mellowed into just not giving a flying f about some things — and that is pretty freeing, actually. Hmm. I could wear cute uncomfortable shoes, or something flat with support. Definitely the flat with support. I could wear something with a tight waistband, or I can wear the thing like a tent, eat whatever I want, and no sweat will ever show. The tent wins every time.
As a trans woman who went through menopause for just 4 months, I feel you.
I am a person who feels well rested when I sleep through the night without waking up, maybe waking up 1 time because I have to pee.
But now (I took cyproterone-acetate, also known as AndroCur for 4 months which throws your body into menopause because I wasn't using estrogen alongside it, because I wasn't fully sure what route I wanted to take) I woke up 4-5 times each night because I was floating out of my bed...
It exhausted me so bad that one day, I fell asleep at work, and my boss found me because he was looking for me for a conversation about my contract renewal... (He sent me home after mentioning "the new contract is a no-brainer, I now mostly want you to go home because awake we benefit more from you than asleep").
Unless a body has a problem with the endocrine system, there isn't really such a thing as excess hormones actually. Hormones are like keys, their receptors are like the locks. Saturated receptors will signal to the body to stop producing estrogen, thereby keeping the balance.
A hereditary predisposition for breast cancer can see an increased risk due to HST (which is what cisgender people get, you are after all not replacing a hormone).
Unfortunately the research that once proved this higher risk for breast cancer due to hormones, has been misinterpreted for years and solidified misplaced reluctant prescription behavior among general practitioners and endocrinologists to prescribe HST to combat menopause effects.
But as with all, talk with this about your doctor. I assume you are in the US so I am afraid this might be a costly thing, and that endocrinologists there might not be as well educated as they are in my country (The Netherlands).
Greetings from across the big pond.
P.S.: I found your blog searching a chart of the massive cloud of satellites orbiting Earth! Isn't the internet wonderful sometimes?
I think I remember that you are not an HRT person because of some hereditary thing or whatever....if I could give you this power I would immediately. Even if I had to split my ability to have it. It has been absolutely wonderful!