Growing up in the early sixties, I learned about womanly things by eves dropping from the stairwell of our old farmhouse. When my mother and her sisters talked, whether it was over coffee at the red Formica table in the kitchen or sipping Rob Roys under the locus trees the backyard, the topic was rarely proper for a young girl’s ears.
Computers weren’t around yet. TV ads consisted of Texaco Gas and Tide. And the word “Menopause” was never mentioned, not out loud anyway.
One particular evening, I remember feeling very spooked when my aunts stood in the kitchen speaking in hushed tones. My Aunt Helen and Uncle Paul were mysteriously missing from the family gathering.
Aunt Helen, someone had said, had to go away for a while. Comments were exchanged. “Oh dear.” “Oh my.” “Poor thing is going through the change.” I could hear worry in their voices, but I was completely confused. As a naïve adolescent, I was certain ‘The Change’ was another word for Black Death.
It’s hard to believe that only 50 years ago, doctors who were held in very high-esteem, didn’t know very much about menopause, especially if a woman displayed any signs of depression or anxiety.
Aunt Helen had, apparently, exhibited some depression and odd behavior. Little was known yet about Hormone Replacement Therapy in the early 60s and antidepressants were unheard of. How unfortunate for Aunt Helen. She was institutionalized and given shock treatments, a method used back then for menopausal women who needed to settle down or ‘snap out of it’.
For years after that, any mention of Aunt Helen had a phrase attached: “She was never right after “The Change”. It was true. The Aunt Helen I knew went from a vibrant, sweet woman who tapped her feet to the music to a person who sat quietly, unsmiling, and wary of anybody who attempted a conversation with her.
Luckily, today’s boomer women have access to enlightened physicians and plenty of information about menopause. The period of change that our bodies go through can range from depression, anxiety, mood swings, and memory loss. And let’s not forget hot flashes, weight gain, bone density loss and the list goes on and on.
The great part of being a menopausal woman today (other than worry-free sex and no more maxi-pads/tampons in the bathroom closet) is that we don’t have to go it alone. We have knowledge and options everywhere, and we better darn well use them to ensure a vibrant quality of life.
Sometimes, I get tired hearing the dangers of HRT, meno-pudge, and the hype of new research that the media continues to drill in to our brains. But then I think of Aunt Helen and realize that I don’t have to listen from the stairwell anymore.
I have options. I’m a lucky boomer woman. 
I made the decision to go grey a few weeks ago. Actually, I had been wanting to do it for a long time but couldn't find a stylist who seemed keen on working with me. I am 53, a school teacher and look probably 10 years younger, and i was being told 
I wrote this in 2003 and recently discovered it in a desk drawer!
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Isn’t it amazing that menopause was treated as a mental disorder! Thank goodness we all live now!
I love your story, Vonnie, and the way you told it. It’s so true of our Aunties’ generation. But let’s remember that vestiges of this “hysteria” attitude remain. I’ve got a story you may not believe, but it’s true.
Some years ago I was asked to be a study participant at a highly regarded research institution. Researchers would be studying the moods and behaviors of women who were pre-menopausal. I was thrilled to think I’d be part of the cutting edge research performed at this august facility.
I was asked to keep a daily record of my habits and moods and to report once a month for a blood test and discussions with a counselor and a physician. On a scale of something like “never” to “very frequently” I had to rate statements like “I feel that I have no friends,” “I hate the way I look,” “I have crying spells I can’t control,” and ”sometimes I want to die.”
Although I knew menopause was just around the corner, I did not feel unloved, ugly, professionally incompetent, suicidal, murderous, or particularly angry with God. This made me feel guilty, so every once in a while I checked “sometimes” on the rating sheets because I didn’t want the researchers to fall asleep over my “never” ratings, or to think I wasn’t giving their questions proper thought.
Six months into the protocol one of the doctors asked if I was ready for some depression medication. I wondered aloud what would lead him to such a conclusion.
“Menopause is a time of depression,” he said.
“I feel okay,” I insisted, “and I feel determined to go through this menopause thing without any medication at all.”
He gazed at me with a mixture of amused tolerance, pity, and annoyance. “Oh, my dear lady,” he said gravely. “The day is not far off when you will come crawling to us, begging for relief.”
I did not leave the study. I was excused. I did not require medication during my menopause……though my husband and kids may have needed some.
Sienna,
OMG – stay away from those studies, girl. I worked at a dental school that did those research studies all the time. The companies sponsoring the studies are looking for the worst of the worst case scenarios.
So glad you didn’t suffer the crappy symptoms of premenopausal and whatever stage you’re in now – you seem to be kicking butt – kudos to you.
These stories are so incredibly sad…and infuriating. Hard to believe that when we were fairly carefree little girls, trading paper dolls for The Beatles and pinafores for blue jeans and then being able to take *College Prep* in high school, almost taking for granted that we *of course* were going to college that some women of an *age* were strill being treated so…wretchedly.
The very witty and vibrant mother of my best friend in high school literally went crazy from menopause. I’m talking my friend ”hiding in her closet from a wooden spoon wielding shrieking obscenities and death threats” crazy mother. Her mom spent some serious time in *the country* before returning in an almost trance like state. Only later in life did we figure out that her mother was a victim of medical incompetancy in dealing with hormonal imbalances.
A hideous waste of a smart and creative women.
Fortunately for me and my matriarchal gene pool, my journey through Duh du da duhhh * The CHANGE” wasn’t much of a change and was pretty much a faucet being slowly and rather peacefully turned off over half a year. I thank my lucky stars…and of course the gene pool.
The moodiness I have owned quite honestly since childhood!
Indeed Vonnie, Sienna and Haralee..et all. we are a lucky generation of women.
Yes, Lilly, I think Aunt Helen was a lot like your friend’s mom, but I don’t know what they had her on before deciding to send her to the asylum.
So, glad we have more available to us and can choose to go the medical route or natural route.
A cautious and educate combination of both is probably what saves a lot of us from similar fates. Losing the fear of *female*problems and facing them honestly and with compassion would go a long way in helping ourselves and others face what can be a pretty scary chapter of life. Sadly, women tend to take care of themselves last.
Just knowing we aren’t alone and sharing all the experiences is a big step towards survival of *The Hormones*
On a more humorous note, when I was little, the women in my family referred to having their period as *falling off the roof*. WTF??? I still laugh about that gem.
I’ve heard variations of that one, Lilly. One of my favorites was ‘Aunt Flo is visiting’, get if, Flo – flow. hahaha.
we are soooo clever as a gender, aren’t we? (wink) That’s why I love us so much LOL.