Image by Kenny Holmes from Pixabay
When It All Started
If you had told me back in 2014 that I’d still be riding the perimenopause rollercoaster in 2025, I would’ve laughed in your face. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t—because I’d be too busy squinting through an ocular migraine, bloated like I swallowed a watermelon, and Googling “what does a stroke feel like?” at 2:30 a.m.
I hit puberty early, had kids early, and pretty much ran my reproductive system like a demolition derby. So yeah, maybe it makes sense that the “change” kicked in sooner than average. But 11 years? That ain’t a change—that’s a damn lifestyle.
The First Symptom: What the Hell Was That?
My periods were once like a Swiss watch—every 28 days, no fuss, no drama. I naïvely assumed menopause would be the same. Spoiler alert: it is not.
My first warning sign? An ocular migraine. I wasn’t even a headache person, so when I suddenly started seeing through what looked like a vibrating Coke bottle, I panicked. I thought I was having a stroke. That led to my first of many ER visits, CT scans, and puzzled doctors who all patted my head and told me I was “fine.” Except I wasn’t.
Heart Racing, Bloating, and Full-On Night Terrors
Not long after the migraines, I started waking up around 2-3 a.m. with my heart racing like I was being chased by something invisible and terrifying. My stomach would swell up like I was nine months pregnant, and the acid reflux would hit like a freight train. The cycle always ended the same: me freezing cold, shaky, and sure I was dying.
Turns out, these were nocturnal panic attacks—but they weren’t just “in my head.” I later learned the connection between gut issues and the vagus nerve. When my bloated stomach compressed that nerve, it triggered heart palpitations and panic. Vicious cycle, right?
These episodes led to countless EKGs, a panic disorder diagnosis, and one incredibly unhelpful doctor who refused to believe hormones were the root cause. I bought a KardiaMobile (a portable EKG), taught myself how to read it, and started using Calm magnesium powder and beta blockers at night. That combo has helped a ton—but those episodes? Still scary as hell.
Overachiever Hormones: Because Normal Would Be Too Easy
Most women my age with thyroid issues develop hypothyroidism. Not me. I went full throttle with hyperthyroidism. Racing heart? Check. Sky-high anxiety? Check. It took a kind-hearted ER doc following a hunch to even catch it.
A couple years in, things got real weird. I had a full year of bizarre neurological symptoms—brief waves of heat through my tongue, weird little patches of chill bumps (always near my right knee), and eye floaters that looked like black worms swimming across my vision. Then came the daily headaches. Three months straight of head pain and a doctor who thought 800mg of Advil every six hours was a sustainable plan.
That little plan destroyed my gut, left scar tissue on my liver, and killed my gallbladder. My food started going through me undigested—yes, as gross as it sounds—and I was sick for two full years while everyone shrugged.
The Gallbladder Saga
My gallbladder wasn’t your typical lazy slacker. Oh no, mine was hyperkinetic—constantly dumping bile, whether it was needed or not. My white blood cells were sky high, my face was flushed, and I was running out of energy and patience. It took forever to get a diagnosis, and even then, most surgeons in my area wouldn’t touch it.
Thanks to the internet and some life-saving Facebook groups, I figured out how to manage it myself with TUDCA, ox bile, and digestive enzymes. If I skip my enzymes for a couple days, I feel it immediately. But with them? I can function like a semi-normal human.
Weight Gain, Anemia, and the Ice Cravings from Hell
I gained weight—some from the hormonal chaos, some from steroid treatments, and all of it against my will. Then the heavy periods started turning into hemorrhages, and I became severely anemic. I ended up needing iron transfusions. Anemia brought its own party favors: hair loss, constant dizziness, and an uncontrollable craving for ice. Like, I go through two 10-pound bags of Sonic ice every single week.
Normal Symptoms? Yep, Got Those Too
Joint pain? Sure, but I knocked that out with collagen peptides. Mood swings? You bet. Brain fog? Constantly walking into rooms and forgetting why. Random body aches, brittle nails, dry skin, hormonal acne, sleepless nights—you name it, I’ve probably had it.
Hot flashes, though? Strangely, I’ve never had one. That’s one thing I hope stays off my perimenopause bingo card.
Why Don’t Women Talk About This?
I spent years thinking I was losing my mind. My doctor dismissed me. My symptoms didn’t fit the neat little boxes. I joined several perimenopause Facebook groups, and finally—finally—I stopped feeling so alone. Turns out, millions of us are silently suffering because nobody wants to talk about the reality of perimenopause.
So now, I talk about it. I make sure my daughters know exactly what this phase of life can look like. I even keep a spreadsheet to track my cycles, symptoms, supplements, and mood swings. You know, like a hormonal war journal.
Will It Ever End?
The average woman spends 4–5 years in perimenopause. Some are lucky with just a year or two. And then there’s me—year 11, holding strong, breaking records, and earning gold stars in reproductive overachievement.
Maybe one day I’ll write a book about this whole chaotic journey—assuming I survive it. But for now, I’ll keep managing my symptoms, advocating for myself, and sharing my story so other women don’t feel as lost as I did.
Because if perimenopause is going to kick my ass, the least I can do is drag it into the light and give it a name.
Lisa Crow contributed to this article. She is a true crime junkie and lifestyle blogger based in Waco, Texas. Lisa is the Head of Content at Gigi’s Ramblings and Southern Bred Crime Junkie. She spends her free time traveling when she can and making memories with her large family which consists of six children and fifteen grandchildren.