Empty Nest Syndrome and Menopause: Why This Season Feels So Dang Hard

Nobody warned me that the Empty Nest and Menopause might arrive at the same dang party.

I expected to miss my children when they grew up. Of course I did. I spent years raising them, worrying about them, driving them everywhere, feeding them and wondering why nobody could replace the toilet paper roll.

What I did not expect was for my children to grow up at the same time my body apparently decided to stop consulting me about anything.

Suddenly, the kids needed me differently. My routines changed. My sleep changed. My body changed. Some days my emotions changed before I could even figure out what we were upset about.

Then people start talking about all the freedom you have when your children grow up.

Freedom?

Ma’am, I am standing in the kitchen trying to remember why I walked in here.

I am not a doctor, therapist or menopause expert. This is simply how this season has felt for me as a mother, widow and woman trying to figure out what comes next.

My Empty Nest is not only about missing the years when my girls were little. It also holds the weight of losing the person I once imagined sharing this chapter with. Sometimes I am not just missing my children. I am missing the life I thought we would all have.

Every Woman’s experience is different. I am simply saying the parts out loud that I wish somebody had said to me.

The kids grew up, but where did that leave me?

For years, being a Mom shaped nearly every part of my day.

Somebody needed a ride. Somebody was hungry. Somebody forgot something. Somebody had a problem that apparently became my problem before I had even finished my coffee.

It was busy, loud, exhausting and sometimes completely ridiculous.

It was also my life.

Then the children grew up and started building lives of their own, which is exactly what we raised them to do.

That does not mean the change is easy.

You can be proud of your children and still miss the noise.

You can love watching them become adults and still wish they would call more.

You can enjoy having time to yourself and still stand in a quiet house wondering what in the world you are supposed to do now.

You can miss the life you had and still be curious about the life waiting for you.

Both can be true.

Apparently, Menopause wanted some attention too

As if changing Motherhood were not enough, Menopause can show up with its own bag of surprises.

Hot flashes. Night sweats. Mood changes. Sleep problems. Brain fog. A body that seems to rearrange itself while you are minding your own business.

According to the Office on Women’s Health, changing hormone levels during perimenopause and Menopause can affect sleep, mood and other parts of daily life.

So no, you are not necessarily losing your mind.

Although I have spent a fair amount of time looking for my phone while holding my phone, so I cannot rule anything out over here.

Some days the next chapter feels exciting.

Other days, I would like to return it without a receipt.

That is the strange part about this season. There can be so much possibility in front of you while you are still trying to understand everything that changed behind you.

Who am I when nobody needs me in the same way?

That question can sneak up on you.

Who am I now?

Not somebody’s chauffeur.

Not the keeper of every schedule.

Not the Woman who automatically puts everyone else’s needs ahead of her own.

I am still a Mother. That did not end when my children grew up.

But the job changed.

For a while, that change left an empty space before I knew what belonged there.

Sometimes the space felt peaceful.

Sometimes it felt lonely.

Sometimes I enjoyed doing whatever I wanted.

Sometimes I realized I had absolutely no idea what I wanted.

We spend so many years asking everyone else what they need that it can feel strange when somebody finally asks us what we want.

That somebody may have to be us.

Then I tried on THE red dress

Recently, I pulled out a red dress I bought while I was in Franklin, Tennessee, with my bestie.

We found it at a little boutique on clearance for $20.

I thought it was adorable.

I also thought, “That is never going to fit me.”

Apparently, I bought it anyway because hope and a clearance price can make me do some questionable things.

The dress stayed in my closet until one day when I was in the right mood to try it on.

I had been working hard, I had lost 17 pounds and I thought, “You know what? Let’s just see.”

I put it on.

It fit.

But that was not even the best part.

I looked in the mirror and thought, “Oh my gosh. Who is that woman?”

And for once, I meant it in a good way.

I thought she looked cute.

She reminded me of the me who used to put on heels, go to cocktail parties and walk into important meetings knowing I belonged there. I served on boards. I stood in front of rooms as a public speaker. Yes, I know—who could tell now?

Most importantly, she looked like me.

Not a brand-new me. Not a younger me. Not somebody I was trying to become for everyone else.

Me.

For a moment, I recognized a part of myself I thought might be gone.

But she was not gone.

She had been there the whole time.

It was never really about the dress

The dress did not magically solve menopause or answer every question about my future.

Losing weight does not determine a woman’s worth, either. You do not have to fit into an old dress, change your body or look like you did 20 years ago to deserve a life that excites you.

For me, the dress was simply a moment.

It reminded me that I was still in there.

The woman who built businesses, attended meetings, raised children, survived loss, traveled, laughed too loudly and figured things out as she went had not disappeared.

She may have been tired.

She may have been buried under responsibilities, grief, hormones and a pile of laundry nobody claimed.

But she was still there.

I am not trying to become a completely different woman.

I am getting reacquainted with the woman who has been here the whole time.

And maybe I am letting her become somebody new too.

We do not need a five-year plan today

One of the hardest parts of this season is feeling like we should already know what comes next.

What is your new purpose?

What business are you starting?

Where are you traveling?

What giant dream are you finally going to chase?

Listen, some mornings my biggest accomplishment is remembering where I put my coffee.

We do not have to figure out the entire next chapter today.

Maybe it starts with one small yes.

Try on the dress.

Call the friend.

Take the walk.

Sign up for the class.

Go to the event.

Book the trip.

Start the hobby.

Apply for the opportunity.

Record the video.

Walk into the room even if you feel nervous.

You do not have to be the most confident woman there. You just have to get through the door.

One small yes may not look life-changing when it happens.

But enough small yeses can build a life.

Say the hard part out loud

We need to stop pretending every change feels wonderful simply because it is a normal part of life.

Say what you miss.

Say what feels lighter.

Say what makes you angry.

Say what scares you.

Say what you secretly want next, even if it sounds completely different from the life you have lived before.

You are allowed to love your family and want something for yourself.

You are allowed to miss the past without wanting to live there forever.

You are allowed to feel happy, sad, relieved, lonely, hopeful and confused—sometimes before lunch.

And listen, if menopause has your body making decisions without consulting you, talk to your doctor. You do not get a gold star for sweating, not sleeping and convincing everyone you are fine. There may be things that can help, so ask the dang questions.

Maybe this is not an ending

What if this season is not about getting your old life back?

What if it is about taking everything you have learned and using it to create a life that fits the woman you are now?

I do not have every answer.

I am living this right alongside you.

I am figuring out what it means to be a Mother when my children are grown, a widow who still wants a full life and a Woman whose dreams did not expire when she turned 50.

Some days I feel sure about where I am going.

Other days I am basically talking to myself on the internet and hoping somebody understands.

But those ordinary conversations have created friendships, opportunities and messages from women saying, “I thought I was the only one.”

That is why Lauren and I are building this next chapter of The Empty Nest Mom.

We want Women and Moms to have a place where nobody makes them feel too old, too late, too inexperienced, too single, too married, too quiet, too loud or too anything.

You still belong.

You still have something to say.

You still get to want things.

You still get to walk into a room and take up space.

No complete reinvention.

No pressure to produce a perfect five-year plan.

No pretending you are thrilled about every part of this transition.

It is simply a chance to name what changed, remember what you like and choose one small yes at a time.

We may be hot, tired and searching for the glasses sitting on our heads, but we are not finished.

Not even close.