The Fine Print of Forty-Eight

July 10, 2026

Over the last month and a half, my life has calmed down significantly.

It has been wonderful.

Restful.

Restorative.

And unexpectedly... revealing.

I'm 48.

Apparently my body has decided this is the year we're doing perimenopause.

Aren't you excited for me.

No one adequately prepared me for the hormonal fluctuations, the random sadness, or the absolute war zones that can suddenly erupt inside my own head for no apparent reason. Thankfully, after talking with several girlfriends, I've learned I'm in very good company. It's oddly comforting to discover we're all standing around looking at each other saying, "Oh... that's perimenopause."

Then there was the exhaustion.

Not normal tired.

Soul tired.

The kind of exhaustion that finally showed up after years of surviving one crisis after another.

I fought it for a long time. I kept thinking I just needed to push through. Surely if I tried a little harder, my energy would come back.

Until one day I wondered:

What if rest is the answer?

So I rested.

Really rested. Rest that included afternoon naps and long days on the couch.

It was wonderful and a bit concerning.

So I spoke with my doctor about it.

My doctor agreed that everything I'd lived through could absolutely explain how depleted I felt, but she also did exactly what I hope every good doctor would do.

She asked, "What if there's something else contributing to it?"

So I've become very familiar with blood tests lately. Most have been reassuring. A few have raised questions that we're still sorting through.

We are pretty sure it's not cancer.

Then a couple of weeks ago, something unexpected happened.

I left Ketchikan.

I've spent my days walking, exploring, hiking, driving all over the place, laughing, staying out late, and saying yes to adventure.

I'm not exhausted here.

That realization has been impossible to ignore.

I don't know exactly what it means yet.

Maybe it's the rest.

Maybe it's the novelty.

Maybe it's the freedom.

Maybe it's what happens when my nervous system finally believes it's safe enough to exhale.

Or maybe it's telling me something important about the life I'm creating next.

Either way, I'm paying attention.

Because after spending so many years pushing through, fixing problems, surviving loss, carrying responsibilities, and being mistreated I've learned that my body has a voice.

And I think it's finally ready to be heard.

Also, one of the unexpected joys of turning 48 is discovering that conversations with your doctor now include things like colonoscopies.

The good news?

I can officially confirm I don't have colon cancer.

And I do not need readers.

So that's nice.

And, helllo to perimenopause.

Let’s be friends.

Please.

#notoldyet