11 Horror Stories About Perimenopause

Perimenopausal symptoms come fast and feverishly, and often at the worst possible moments. Like the time I was set to pitch a television series to a major studio network over Zoom — probably the most important meeting of my life — and then, of course, had my very first hot flash. It was so intense that, mid-sentence, I had no choice but to tear off my sweater, accidentally flash my bra, and carry on as if I weren’t completely shook by the sudden betrayal of my body. Since that day, my symptoms have only gotten crazier and, honestly, scarier. Like the time I walked into Sephora and could not remember the word for eyeliner, or when I went to CVS to fill a prescription for hormone therapy and forgot why I was there.

However, knowing that other women are dealing with similar symptoms has helped me enormously. I can’t imagine going through perimenopause, like so many other generations of women before, without talking about this new reality so openly and vividly. Here are 11 women (whose names have been changed) on perimenopausal symptoms taking over at the worst time.

“Mommy, why aren’t you scratching your vagina today?”

I’m the divorced mother of a 5-year-old. A year ago, I started dating Jack. But only recently is he starting to sleep over and spend quality time with my daughter. Jack is aware that I’m in perimenopause, but it’s not like we really talk about it in graphic detail. One of the worst symptoms for me is vaginal dryness. I’m not just talking about sex — I have lube for that. I’m talking about general itchiness, like, all the time. I’m constantly digging in there, especially in the mornings. So a few weeks ago, Jack slept over for the first time. It was lovely. The three of us were all having breakfast in the morning when my daughter proceeded to say, in front of him, “Mommy, why aren’t you scratching your vagina today?” I practically spit out my cereal. I tried to laugh it off, like, “I don’t know what she’s talking about.” But then she said it again! She’s like, “Mommy loves scratching her vagina.” Basically, my daughter told my new boyfriend that I’m always scratching my crotch. Which is the absolute truth, and super-humiliating. I denied it to the end! —Ellen, 48, artist, New York

 “I didn’t sleep for five nights straight.”

I’ve always been a really good, effortless sleeper but back in August, I started getting hot flashes and other menopausal symptoms and that changed my sleep patterns. I had the typical “kick the covers off, pull the covers on, kick the covers off, pull the covers on …” thing, but by October I experienced something new in the sleep realm all together — I didn’t sleep for five nights straight. I have nothing else to blame but perimenopause. It was atrocious. I was almost psychotic by day five. I was so irritable and shaky. I wanted to cry at the drop of a dime. It was the worst. On day three, I asked a friend for a sleeping pill and it didn’t really work, so on day four, I just felt drugged and like an unrecognizable version of myself. The day after that, I took another pill (I honestly don’t even know what it was, that’s how desperate I was) and it worked and I slept. I’m back to sleeping well again. I don’t even get the hot flashes at night anymore — they lasted only a few months. I pray the insomnia never comes back. I know some perimenopausal friends have been dealing with that for years and I’m lucky it was a short, if severe, spurt. —Abby, 49, graphic designer, Boston

“I had a ‘crime scene’ period on a date.”

I was on a date when the blood started flowing. The crime-scene periods had started that year, the year I turned 52. I had split up (amicably) with my ex-husband and started dating around the same time I began to get periods that did not stop. We’re talking flowing rivers of blood, like a blood-filled faucet was turned on inside my body that would not shut off for weeks. Weeks. Every day, I’d go through a Super Plus tampon every hour. I was shocked there was any blood left inside of me. While doing long runs training for the NYC Marathon, blood would start running down my legs. I had ten miles to go and I was a bloody mess. It was not good. So I called my doctor, who said, “Come in and let’s see what’s going on.” They ordered a transvaginal ultrasound to rule out cancer, so I had a wand the size of a Little Slugger baseball bat shoved up my cervix and waved around inside me. That was fun. Luckily, they found nothing that was not meant to be there. They said, “It’s not cancer, it’s just perimenopause! So all good! Just, you know, let us know if you pass out because you are really low on iron.” Oh, really? You think?

So there I was, in a light blue spaghetti-strap maxi dress, on a first date with a guy who was kind of cute, when I felt the blood rush out of me. No warning. All of a sudden I was in a puddle of my own blood. Mid-sentence I said, “I am so sorry but I need to use the bathroom.” It was quite a sudden departure. Luckily the restaurant was dark and I sort of backed away from the table like one might walk away from the queen or some royalty. I got to the bathroom, and as I feared, I looked like I had been gutted like a fish. The back of my dress was fully blood soaked; my underpants were weighed down with blood. Luckily I had a pad and tampons with me, so I stemmed the flow a bit, but there was nothing I could do about the dress. I left the bathroom and walked back to the table where I had to tell my date that I had to go home because I was covered in blood. To his credit, he was pretty unfazed. He had sisters. He was so sweet, asked if we should pack up dinner, if he could do anything for me, walked me home and kissed me goodnight. We ended up dating for a while until I found out he was convicted for securities fraud and was going to jail, but that’s another story.” —Andrea, 53, food writer, Brooklyn

“I had to take off my clothes while giving a lecture.”

I was giving a lecture to a graduate school course with 120 students, wearing a dress with a blazer, and talking into a mic attached to my clothes. I had a hot flash that was so bad I tried to take off my blazer, but the mic was somehow holding my it closed in a way I couldn’t figure out. Basically I had to peel my arms out of the sleeves one at a time and scooch the blazer as a tube down my whole lower body, and step out of it. Then I had to lean over and pick the mic off the blazer and put it back on my dress. The whole scene felt like it took ten minutes; probably it was only a minute. The whole auditorium was silent. —Shay, 52, professor, New York

“I was convinced I was either dying or had dementia.”

I was in a new business meeting with a potential client who I really wanted to land for my company. I was talking about the long tenure of all our employees and how we are all so close. Then, like two minutes later, I was introducing my colleague to share some of her insights — this is a colleague who I have known for eight-plus years and am legitimately good friends with — and I stared at her blankly and could not remember her name. It was just blank space in my brain. I could not grasp her name. And I was convinced I was either dying or had dementia. And then I realized I had entered perimenopause. Molly. Her name is Molly. —Bex, 46, publicist, Rhode Island

“I had a totally new body overnight.”

I am lucky that I’ve been the same weight my entire adult life. I have good genes or good metabolism; who knows. All to say I’ve never worried much about my weight or size of clothing, and it’s never changed in 25 years. Until the weekend of my daughter’s bat mitzvah. I bought a dress for the party a few months before, and it fit great. But I hadn’t tried it on since. The day before the bat mitzvah, I decided to model the dress for my family, just to see what they thought. Mind you, I’m very perimenopausal: hot flashes every night, fatigue, zero sex drive, the whole nine yards. I just never thought about my weight gain. And then I tried on the dress. I could barely zip it up. I was shocked. I had less than 24 hours to buy a new dress, which was incredibly stressful, but not even as stressful as having a totally different body, overnight, without any warning. I ended up running to a department store hours before the party and miraculously found something I loved in a new size that I’ve never been before. I’m still trying to figure out what to do. —Sarah, 50, event planner, New York

“I just stopped being able to orgasm.”

Sex has always been a big part of my life. I think I’ve masturbated almost every day since I was a teenager. And my husband and I have a lot of sex, typically, compared to my other mom friends. But since I entered perimenopause, I literally can’t come. That has never been an issue for me. No matter what my husband does, or whatever vibrator or porn or lube I try, the orgasm won’t come. I’m trying not to get too depressed about it, and I’m hoping I can find an HRT solution that fixes it, but otherwise I guess I’ll begin the mourning process for my happy, orgasmic life. It was great while it lasted. —Lucy, 46, fashion designer, Brooklyn

“There’s a puddle of sweat.”

This past summer, I was at my fiancé’s parents’ cabin, and it was a very hot day. I had a glass of wine or two, and I’m suddenly sweating through my shorts. Like, I have a soggy bottom from perspiring. I get up to use the bathroom and realize there’s a puddle of sweat on the chair as I get up; it was a barstool type with a shiny cover. When I came back from the bathroom, a male cousin of my fiancé’s was wiping the seat with a paper towel. It was humiliating. I didn’t have another pair of shorts, so I just had to let them air dry. Side note: My fiancé is 15 years younger than me, so he’s having to learn at a young age what it’s really like to have an “old lady!” —Tracy, 48, teacher, Seattle

“I was convinced I was having a heart attack.”

Last year, I woke up with severe heart palpitations in the middle of the night. I was convinced I was having a heart attack, but it was a Saturday, so instead of dealing with the ER on a weekend I changed my underwear (in case I died, I didn’t want to be found in ugly panties) and went back to sleep. The heart palpitations lasted a few months and then never came back. Dr. Google told me it was perimenopause, and I was in my 50s, so I assume that was it. They were my only symptom other than hot flashes that weren’t too bad. I feel very lucky. —Randy, 56, producer, Los Angeles

“I was harsh, moody, and critical. It was like I’d had a personality transplant.”

When I was in the darkest days of perimenopause, around age 49, I noticed that I was being really mean to my 10-year-old daughter. I would snap at her for the littlest things. While I knew I felt bad about it, I didn’t have the capacity to apologize or tell her I was just in a bad mood. I couldn’t reach or locate the kind, loving, compassionate mother I always had been. It was like I’d had a personality transplant. I could say to my husband, “I’m not myself today, I’m warning you,” and he could kind of understand it. But to my children, I was just acting unpredictably and unkindly. Now the worst of the symptoms are behind me and we’ve all moved on, but I wish I could erase my behavior. I hope I didn’t do any long-term damage. I love my kids so much; I honestly was not myself during those years. —Angie, 52, literary critic, New York

“A blood clot escaped my tampon.”

I was working in Tribeca and commuting via subway to the Upper West Side, standing the whole time. I was wearing wide-leg dress pants and very small thong underwear. And a tampon. I had not gotten my period for several months, and then suddenly it came on in the most aggressive way, which I knew was classic perimenopause but it didn’t make it more fun. Anyway, the next thing I knew, a blood clot escaped from my saturated tampon and my underwear, rolled down my leg, and landed in my ankle boot while I was standing on the subway. I could literally feel it roll all the way into my boot. Luckily I had a winter coat on. Some of it may have gotten on the subway floor; I didn’t look. It all happened just as I arrived at my stop. Good times.” —Tammy, 53, professor, New York