Him: “And what does that mean?” Hmm? That’s a damn good question. I look at him, he looks at me. Two adults who have had and almost fully raised two children and we have no idea how to answer this question, not even me…

I make a decision there and then that I’ll go to the doctor and stability starts to return. The doctor is a professional. He’ll know what to do. He knows what he’s doing and will tell me what’s going on. It feels strange. Is it not my body? Do I really need a professional to explain it to me? I feel somewhat helpless. “Should I come with you?” he asks. “Well, I’m not sick,” I answer. Is that true?

The doctor confirms it, I’m not sick. Menopause is completely normal. Blah blah blah. Not for me. I will get more symptoms, such as hot flushes – just wonderful, right in the middle of summer.

And then there’s the sex thing. He and I have been together for 20 years. Sometimes more, sometimes less sex, sometimes better, sometimes worse. We have gone through pregnancies and children, stolen minutes and hours away at all kinds of places. For the first time in years, we have time for each other again. We have morning sex again!

And now here’s another obstacle that we’re going to have to deal with, that I’m going to have to deal with.

My doctor recommends some reading material to me, talks about a new phase of life, a change that’s more than just physical. I’m just tired and want everything to stay as it was.

When I come home, he’s there. In the middle of the day. He’s taken the day off and is waiting for me. He’s spent all morning reading about the menopause. Then he takes my arm and I start crying. A bit like with my first period. Back then, I cried on my mother’s shoulders. Or during my first pregnancy. Everything was different and new and I wasn’t ready. My first period was almost 40 years ago and since then, my body and I have been through so much. I now wear the scars and signs of the times with a different kind of ease, even with pride and love. And when I think about it, I now know what’s most important. I have to listen to myself, understand my body and my needs and be kind to myself – physically, mentally and spiritually, I need to let myself be me. I’ll help myself to be helped and go along with this new chapter of my story, which will be part of me like all the others before it.

They usually start in the face and spread out like a wildfire in the truest sense of the word across the neck, chest and upper arms. Hot flushes always come right when women need them the least. Fans of Asian, Arabian or South American cuisine with their spicy dishes know this feeling of our body going haywire all too well. All of a sudden, the small veins of the skin expand and are more intensely circulated. The skin becomes warmer and redder. Now, to regulate this, the pores open up and you start sweating. And this does what it technically should – it cools the surface of our skin. In the Mexican sun, it makes sense to cool down in this way. The chills after a hot flush in Germany, however, are often just as unpleasant as the heat and the excessive sweating before them.

And why does this all happen? Sometimes, it is all thanks to the good old hormones that manage our bodily functions. The hormonal changes that the body inevitably goes through during the menopause influence the vegetative nervous system, the part that regulates automatic processes such as breathing and blood pressure, i.e. which work without any deliberate interference. And so, we are the mercy of hot flushes. Or perhaps not?

Hormones can be tricked. Many women, for example, take the hormonal pill for birth control to trick the body into believing they are already pregnant. Hormonal solutions are also available for the menopause. But women have gradually become more and more skeptical towards these in recent years. Regularly taking artificial preparations contradicts the body’s feeling and the consciousness of many modern women.

Thanks to research, another path has been available for around 10 years, which relies on the power of plants. EstroG-100^® and menoelle^® is truly a natural miracle weapon that accompanies you through the menopause and can be taken without any cares to tackle the tedious side effects of the menopause.

Dear Menopause,

Why can’t I just cure you with a Porsche? Not that I could afford one, but right now I’d rather define myself with a flashy red car than run away from my date to stuff paper towels under my armpits in the bathroom… although I admit that with this one, I’m still on the fence as to whether I’d rather go back to the bar or just home. But that’s another topic!

Right now, I don’t feel the need to let someone get close to me. And to be honest, I suspect you have something to do with that.

I know that I need to embrace you, you new phase of life, to celebrate myself for all that my body has done for me. With my body, my temple of purity. But quite frankly, no thank you! I won’t accept that. That’s it.

Dear Menopause, I’m breaking up with you!

I never wanted kids, I just never felt the need. Nobody understood. “Later,” they said, “Later you’ll be glad that you did it.” Later is now and I’m glad that I didn’t listen to them. My life is mine and mine alone. Children are wonderful, but just not for me. That’s why I’ve always had a fractured relationship with my reproductive organs and everything that they bring every month, or rather what they allow. And now the end is supposed to look like this? That this “aunt” who always shows up invited properly demolishes the apartment the last time around?

Not with me. My life is mine. I’m going to scale this mountain too and nothing is going to hold me back. I’m going to muzzle and tie up the “aunt” until she finally chooses to leave. Thank God that they grow herbs to deal with annoying aunts…

I’m standing in front of my colleagues and finally have the chance to present my idea, when it happens. I feel the heat spreading through me, as if someone has set off a firework inside me. It’s nothing new. First I’m a bit queasy and then gradually, I become warmer and warmer from the inside. Only a few seconds left and the hot flush will start to show on the outside.

I start sweating and my face gets red and blotchy. My scalp is glowing. First I start to stutter, lose track of things and look into the helpless eyes of my colleagues. The confusion that slowly turns into second-hand embarrassment is written on their faces. I babble something about that “I just have to…” and then I run out of the room, quickly to the toilet and into one of the cubicles.

Now I’m sitting on the toilet with the lid closed and wheezing. I gradually try to get my breathing back under control. Breathe in, breathe out… bit by bit, I calm down. My temperature too.

Outside, I stand in front of the mirror and look at the red blotches, watching them slowly fade. I go into my office and let the secretary know to tell my colleagues I have to go home. Nobody is used to seeing me out of control here, or even weak. Maybe tomorrow we can act as if nothing happened.