Every day.
Another ache.
Another pain.
Another weird symptom.
Perimenopause has brought on such interesting and completely unwelcome surprises — little reminders that my body has its own agenda.
Between my painful breasts and burning nipples that once signaled my cycle was coming… I have no idea what they mean anymore. I mean, beyond painful — to the point that even the lightest fabric brushing against them made me feel as if they were actually on fire. The flare up for no reason now, sometimes with a heat that turns my softest clothes into sandpaper.
Then there are the cramps that arrive without any cycle to go with them. Are they ghosts of what used to happen? Or maybe just the echo of something fading — the absence of a rhythm I’ve been living with for decades.
And now, the numbness. It creeps in slowly… arms, hands, shoulders. It doesn’t matter how I sit or sleep or stretch; the feeling comes from every position and no position at all. There isn’t a massage deep enough, an ice pack cold enough, or a heating pad warm enough to make it go away.
The numbness wakes me in the middle of the night, my arms heavy and unfamiliar, forcing me to shake and stretch in the dark until the tingling returns. Sometimes it takes a few minutes, sometimes longer. And the moment I slip back into the same position — it comes right back again, stubborn and smug.
Between a numb arm, a hot flash, suddenly freezing, and then the other arm going numb — sleep has become, shall we say, disruptive.
My sleep score claims I wake up between fifteen and thirty times a night. I don’t need an app to tell me that. I’m sure some of those many wake‑ups are related to my most amazing, wonderful, truly supportive husband — whose snoring has been driving me insane for twenty‑two years.
There are joints in my body I didn’t even know existed before entering this new phase of life. They quietly introduce themselves one pop or ache at a time. And trust me, I know how lucky I am — not everyone gets the privilege of growing older. I am truly grateful for my life.
But still, these aches, pains, and strange, unpredictable sensations add a layer of insecurity and uncertainty that I’m not used to. My body used to feel like home; now some days it feels like I’m learning to live with a complicated, temperamental, err hormonal roommate.
It’s no wonder older people talk about pain so much. Am I part of that group now — the “oldER”? I don’t feel old, but my body seems to be sending a different message. Every day brings something new, funny, or not so funny — a twinge here, a stiffness there. None of them take over my whole life, but together they become a constant background noise.
They annoy me. And they remind me, more often than I’d like, that I’m not twenty anymore. Even though I probably take better care of myself now — eat better, move more, sleep (well, try to sleep) — my body seems to follow a set of rules I was never given.
I still show up, though. I move, stretch, walk, and lift. I eat well. I rest when I can (melatonin and mint tea on board of ) Still, my body resists cooperation. It’s confusing. And if I’m honest, a little sad. Not destroyed, not defeated — just quietly aware that the version of me I know is changing.
And yet, I’m still here.
Still living inside this body.
Still learning her language.
Still showing up — aches, pains, numbness, and all.
Sheli Stark is a 54-year-old mom to two young adults who balances a career in social services with her work as a certified personal trainer. Fitness is part of her daily life, along with treasured time as an auntie, loving on her dog and cat, and living a vegan lifestyle. When she’s not out walking the dog, she’s usually working on the novel she’s been writing (and rewriting) for the past six years. Find her on Instagram.
