Sometimes Self-Love Looks Like Leaving the Coffee Shop
Perimenopause, Grief, and Learning to Rest
I walked into my second coffee shop of the day, and the smell hit me immediately.
Greasy. Like burger meat that had been frying.
I stood there at the counter for a second, heightened to the noise from the various conversations, and thought: "Yeah. No. I can't do this."
So I left.
But let me back up, because that moment, standing in a coffee shop I couldn't tolerate, was actually the end of something that started earlier that morning.
The Discovery That Changed Everything
That morning, I was scrolling Instagram and came across a video about perimenopause.
The female OB-GYN in the video was explaining the difference between perimenopause, menopause, and postmenopause. And I learned something that stopped me cold:
Menopause is only one day.
One day. The day that marks one full year since a woman's last period.
But perimenopause? That can last 7 to 10 years.
As I kept watching, she listed the perimenopause symptoms: feeling overwhelmed, not feeling like yourself, depression, difficulty managing things that used to be easy.
And it hit me.
"Oh my God. I think I've been in perimenopause for three years."
I'm 46. My cycle has been changing, less regular and unpredictable for the past year. So I had been thinking my perimenopause started when my cycle changed. But no. According to the symptoms Dr. Mary Claire shared and what I have been experiencing, this had been going on for three years.
For three years, I just felt like I couldn't get it together. I've been struggling to keep up with my emails. I've experienced depression when I've historically dealt more with anxiety. I've been inconsistent with tasks I normally can manage, such as my newsletter, and just not feeling like myself at times.
And now I knew why.
But here's what made me angry: Why didn't anyone tell us this?
In school, they taught us about periods. Sex and getting pregnant (more like don't get pregnant). But no one, no one, taught us the in-depth hormonal changes women's bodies go through across a lifetime.
I felt robbed.
I felt like if I had known, I could have taken better care of myself. I'm a therapist. I work with clients who are going through perimenopause, some that I know of and some that might not know of, because I might have just considered it part of their mental health and not possibly influenced by perimenopause.
I was mad. Angry. Frustrated. Sad.
And grieving.
The Shame (And Why I Shared Anyway)
Within 30 minutes of watching that video, I sensed an urgency to reshare the video on both my business and personal accounts without sharing my experiences.
But I stopped myself. "No one should struggle alone." It's one thing to share the information, and it's more powerful to share your personal experience and how you are managing.
I also know my life is an inspiration to others. And as painful and shameful and sad and grief-filled as this moment was, I couldn't hold it back, even though I knew I could probably get questions, and I didn't want people asking me about it.
But women need to know. I mean, all humans need to know, so they can support the women in their lives.
So I shared it. Despite the shame and fear.
Trying to Push Through (When I Needed Rest)
After I discovered all of this, I managed to pull myself together. I got dressed. I went to a coffee shop to get some work done.
But I was still carrying all of the anger, the grief, the frustration. They were swirling around in my head.
When I got to my favourite coffee shop, it was noisy, and I needed quiet. So I left and decided to try another one I hadn't been to in a while.
But as I started driving, I felt like God was nudging me: Go by the water.
I thought, "I don't have the time. I've got work to do." But I focused on what would be good for my wellbeing and went by the water.
I ended up calling one of my friends, a male friend. I want to say that specifically, because I'm going to be honest: I didn't want to talk to a female friend about what I had just learned. I just wanted to vent to a male because I knew if I vented to him, he wasn't going to try to relate to me.
Sometimes, low-key, this is why you need a therapist. Because it's a beautiful thing to have a space for yourself where you are heard and don't have to think about the other person's needs or hear "yeah, me too."
So I called him. I sat at a table by the water, then got up and walked while I talked. I shared my frustration and pain about the information I'd learned on perimenopause and how long I had been suffering unknowingly.
I got teary. I cried.
And he said, "Sounds like you're grieving."
"Yes," I said. "I am grieving. I'm grieving the change in my body. I'm grieving the frustration of being a woman and the experience that no one told us about, and not knowing."
His words and listening ear were what my soul needed in that moment. It was validating and comforting.
The Moment I Almost Listened
Once I left the water, I shared my discovery with another friend on my drive to the second coffee shop.
She asked if I wanted to come over and meditate, and suggested maybe I should just go home and take care of myself.
I said no. I didn't want to drive all the way to her place. It felt too far, too tiring. And I told her I was just going to go to this coffee shop and work.
"You sure?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
I hung up. I pulled into the parking lot. I walked into the coffee shop.
And that smell hit me.
Greasy food. Strong. Rancid, almost.
Side note: I've noticed over the last three months that fragrances have become intense, and I cannot wear certain perfumes. This is sad because I love beautiful smells. I got rid of all my cleaning supplies because I couldn't take it. Now I just use vinegar, water, and baking soda to clean.
I read that changes in your sense of smell can happen in perimenopause… sigh.
I stood there at the counter. Looked around. The noise. The smell. And decided…
I guess I'm just going to go to the grocery store.
What Self-Love Actually Looked Like
So I left. And I went to my old grocery store, the one I love and miss, and just took my time.
My groceries, of course, included things for my sweet tooth to comfort my emotions (yes, therapists are not perfect): Endangered Species dark chocolate with salted caramel, Angie's sweet and salty popcorn, apple strudel, and crème fraîche.
I went home. I enjoyed some of the chocolate, popcorn, and apple strudel that night and rested.
My friends checked in on me.
The next day, I felt better.
Not because the grief was gone. I still had moments where I cried. But I felt calmer. Less angry. The sadness wasn't sitting at the top of my mind anymore.
I felt educated. Aware. And grateful I had taken care of myself.
What I Learned (And What I Want You to Know)
Here's what I realized: I was trying to push through instead of caring for myself. Instead of offering myself love.
Even when my friend told me to go home, I said no.
Even when my body was telling me it needed quiet, I tried another coffee shop.
It wasn't until I physically could not tolerate that space that I finally listened.
And that's what I want to share with you today, what it really looks like to intentionally care for yourself.
Self-love isn't always immediate. It's not always perfect.
Sometimes our bodies are screaming at us, and we ignore the signals. Sometimes our friends give us permission to rest, and we still push through.
But the work is in starting to notice.
A Practice in Awareness
Over the next two weeks, I want you to begin to notice: When is your body telling you to rest, and you push past it?
This is not judgment. This is just awareness and curiosity.
Notice when your body signals rest, when people signal you to rest, and you push past that.
And when you do notice the pushback, explore:
What made me push past?
What was I afraid would happen if I rested?
What do I think rest means about me?
Maybe in those moments, it helps to pause. Call a friend for support. Go to the places that make you feel peace and calm.
Maybe you buy yourself some chocolate or comfort food and just go to your safe place.
Self-love is recognizing your needs and caring for them.
And sometimes, it's letting yourself leave the coffee shop.
A Note on Perimenopause
Part of caring for yourself is having the information you need. If you think you or someone you know might be experiencing perimenopause, here are some resources that helped me understand what was happening in my body:
Note: Some links below are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you purchase through them, at no extra cost to you