Why Menopause Might Be the Perfect Time to Scare Yourself a Bit

pauseandempower
Jul 1
5 min read

Only last Saturday (28 June), I found myself thigh-deep in the River Great Ouse, clutching a paddle and wobbling my way into a kayak for the very first time. Yes, you read that right. I had signed up for an Introduction to Kayaking session with Vikings Kayak Club in Bedford—on the hottest day of the year so far. Why? Because, like many of us navigating menopause, I was desperate for a fresh perspective. A challenge. A joyful jolt to my system. And let me tell you… I got exactly that.

I'm sure the smiles will appear, once the panic abates!

This little adventure didn’t just appear out of nowhere. It’s the latest chapter in a story of life upheaval, hormonal curveballs, and sheer bloody-minded reinvention.

When Life Gives You Menopause… Get a Paddle

Rewind to the start of last year, and I was still living in London, the only place I’d ever called home. But after 30 years, a series of emotional, medical, and moral gut punches forced me to reassess.

First, I adopted a rescue dog—only for someone in the street to try to kick him. I realised I no longer felt safe or aligned with the place I’d loved for so long. At the same time, my long-term HR consultancy career was feeling flat. I wasn’t connecting with people the way I used to. Turns out, that wasn’t burnout—it was hormonal. My GP had diagnosed depression and prescribed antidepressants that left me oddly numb (not ideal when your job relies on empathy). It wasn’t until I consulted the Newson Health Menopause Clinic that I was correctly diagnosed as perimenopausal, and put on HRT that helped me feel again.

I also knew I wanted to be closer to my aging mum and godmother. And so—somewhat on a whim—I packed up my London life and moved to Bedford. A town I’d never visited. For a while, the decision felt… questionable.

DIY Disasters and Unexpected Deaths

I’d bought a doer-upper and hired a cowboy builder who turned out to be all sales patter and no substance. Cue plumbing disasters, unsealed windows, Trading Standards, the police, and many, many tears. Fortunately, I eventually found Steve the Handyman—part builder, part angel—who rescued my sanity one properly fitted window at a time.

Then, just as I was settling, my beloved godmother was hospitalised over Christmas and passed away. I’d been visiting her nearly weekly for over a year, I'm now at peace with her passing—but was unprepared for the emotional admin that followed. Clearing her home, rehoming her dog, and dealing with a spate of ethically-questionable behaviour from those also managing her estate, was draining beyond belief. The phrase “death brings out the worst in people” had never felt more accurate.

By the end of that season, I was lonely, emotionally worn out, and deeply unsure if I’d made the right move. But the dust finally began to settle.

Rebuilding, One Paddle Stroke at a Time

With the house done, probate nearly finished, and my HRT regime doing its job, I found myself ready—needing—to rebuild. When I saw the kayak club’s flyer, something inside me shouted, “Do it!”

And so, on that hot June Saturday, I wobbled into a kayak, along with two brilliant instructors—Andrew and Shane—and a mix of other newbies, including an outdoorsy couple called Vanessa and Darius. I laughed. I splashed. I fell in love with the river.

I’m a Pisces, and while I don’t put much stock in horoscopes, I do adore water. I used to scuba dive—but only in tropical waters with coral and clownfish. These days, thanks to shifting climates and Great Whites migrating to the Med (no thank you), I’m reconsidering my underwater hobbies. But kayaking felt safe. Energising. Alive.

So when the club mentioned they were hosting a National Slalom competition the next weekend, I volunteered to help and joined a club practice run. Then I… signed up for the race.

A 49-Year-Old Kayaking Rookie… What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

At our practice session on Wednesday (without poles, thankfully), I capsized twice and ended up in a tree the third time. My confidence was low, my muscles sore, and my fear of humiliation high. I’d just come back from a spa break with my mum (thankfully topped up with calm), and still I questioned my sanity.

But the kindness of strangers blew me away. Seasoned kayakers from across the UK—many decades younger—cheered me on when they found out I’d been paddling for less than a week. “You’re winning, being on the water!” they said. “So brave!”

On the day of the race, 12-year-olds zipped through the slalom course like aquatic spiders. I was slow. Cautious. But determined. I didn’t capsize. My time improved. And every shout of “Go Amanda!” made my heart swell.

Why This Matters (More Than You Think)

Menopause can make the world feel very small. Hormonal shifts, sleep deprivation, brain fog, and grief for the person we once were—it’s a potent, isolating cocktail. And yet, it can also be a window to transformation.

Research from The Centre for Ageing Better (UK, 2023) shows that women who challenge themselves later in life experience improved self-esteem, resilience, and mental wellbeing. One of their studies found that “purposeful risk” (trying something new with real uncertainty) helps combat the depression and low self-worth many menopausal women report.

Similarly, Sport England’s This Girl Can initiative continues to highlight that physical activity—even at a gentle, social level—can radically enhance mental wellbeing and connection during midlife. It’s not about triathlons. It’s about showing up for yourself.

And finally, a 2024 survey by Menopause Matters UK found that 71% of menopausal women reported feeling a greater sense of life satisfaction after taking up a new hobby or volunteering role—especially those involving teamwork or community spirit.

Perspective: The Real Prize

Here’s the thing: I didn’t win the kayaking race. In fact, I came very last. But what I did win was perspective.

I now know I’m capable of doing something entirely new.
I’ve found a community that doesn’t expect perfection, just participation.
I’ve been reminded that joy often lies on the other side of fear.

This experience—and others like my esoteric dance workshop (a story for another blog!)—has helped me realise I’m finally building the life I want. Not the one I defaulted into.

Contentment Isn’t Passive

We talk a lot about “finding peace” in midlife, but I’ve discovered peace isn’t something you find. It’s something you forge. Through muddy rivers. Cold showers. Nervous laughter. Community. Courage.

And honestly? I feel proud. Not for being good at kayaking (I’m very much not). But for showing up. For paddling upstream, quite literally, against the tides of grief, fear, and hormonal chaos.

Could This Be You?

I’m not saying you have to chuck yourself into a kayak. (Though if you fancy it, a Kayak Club is a brilliant place to start.)

But what’s your version of that paddle?

Singing in a choir?
Trying life drawing?
Volunteering at a food bank?
Joining a beginners' improv class?

Let 12-year-olds on the riverbanks remind us: it’s not about being fearless—it’s about not letting fear stop us.

So here's my invitation: Challenge yourself. In a way that makes your knees knock and your heart leap. See what happens when you push just a little past your comfort zone. Because beyond the hot flushes and hormone chats, there’s still a part of you who wants to play, connect and feel triumphant.

You’re not “too old”.You’re not “too late”.You’re just getting started.

External UK Sources Used:

Feeling inspired? Share your midlife bravery stories with me on LinkedIn or check out more on my blog at Pause and Empower. Because sometimes, the life you’ve been waiting for is just one paddle stroke away. 🚣‍♀️