I was standing at a shop counter not long ago, already running late, while the cashier worked her way through what felt like every possible delay. First there was a price check, then the register ran out of paper, and then she couldn’t find the price of another item. On the outside I was perfectly calm. I wasn’t rude, I didn’t say a word, and I’m fairly sure she had no idea anything was going on. Inside, it felt like a wave of rage had taken over my body. My chest was tight, my hands were tense, and at some point I realised I was holding my breath.
Meanwhile, the commentary running through my head was becoming increasingly ridiculous. At one point I’d decided that this woman shouldn’t be allowed to have a job. I’m fully aware of how extreme that sounds, given she was simply trying to do her job while dealing with a run of things that weren’t really in her control. But in that moment I couldn’t let it go. I was completely caught up in how frustrated I felt and all the reasons my brain was offering me to justify it.
Of all the perimenopause symptoms I’ve experienced, this kind of disproportionate rage has been one of the most surprising, and when I say disproportionate, let me tell you, I mean it. On that same weekend, I heard the phrase “pills and skills” on a podcast, and I loved it. It described something I’d been talking about for a while: how much I value and lean on the skills I’ve developed through years of coaching, as I navigate this stage of life.
Why perimenopause rage can feel so justified
Going back to the cashier, what I noticed what the order that I experienced it. On a daily basis I help woman see how their thinking shapes their feelings, and the results that creates in their lives. In that shop, though, the feeling seemed to arrive first. My body was already furious before I’d consciously thought much at all, and then my mind got to work finding reasons. She was taking too long. She should have known what she was doing. Why was this happening when I was already late? Surely someone who couldn’t operate a register properly shouldn’t be working there. Every new thought made the anger feel more justified, and the more justified it felt, the bigger it got.
What this moment really highlighted to me was that impact hormonal changes can have in how intense a feeling is. Things like disrupted sleep, fatigue, and stress can also exacerbate the feelings and the challenge is that our minds don’t experience that intensity as random. They seem to assume a feeling that big must be proportionate to something, so they go looking for evidence, and they’re very good at finding it. By the time I left the shop, I wasn’t seeing a woman working through a series of small problems. I was seeing someone who was wasting my time, and I had a complete case for why I was entitled to be furious about it.
The shame we add on top
When I got out of the shop, I launched into a rant to my husband about the whole experience. He looked at me, cocked his head slightly and said, “Really? Was it that bad? Does it deserve that much anger?” My immediate response was an emphatic yes! But truthfully I knew he was right. The situation was frustrating, but it didn’t warrant the level of anger I was feeling. Almost straight away, something else crept in, shame. Here I was, someone who has spent years understanding thoughts, emotions and behaviour, getting completely worked up over a woman struggling with a cash register.
Now shame is a familiar friend and so when it showed up I could see that my mind had started building a second case, this time against me. I should know better. I of all people should be able to manage this. The rage had arrived with a list of reasons it was justified, and the shame arrived with an equally convincing list of reasons I was failing. And personally I think it is this second case (the layer on top) that often does the most damage, particularly for women who are used to being the capable one, the person who handles things, keeps her composure and is relied on by everyone else. Because when so much of how you see yourself rests on being competent, a reaction that feels out of proportion doesn’t just feel uncomfortable. It can start to feel like evidence that you’re losing your grip.
Perhaps you’re suddenly much less patient with your children, or you snap at your partner over something relatively minor. Maybe you find yourself crying at something that wouldn’t normally upset you, or feeling overwhelmed by a situation you’ve managed hundreds of times before. The original emotion can feel uncomfortable, but then come the thoughts that you shouldn’t be reacting this way, that you’re being ridiculous, that you should have more control over yourself. And suddenly you’re not just dealing with frustration, sadness or anxiety, you have to manage everthing else you’ve decided those feelings mean about you (the pile on).
What I did with it instead
Once I’d had my rant about the cashier, I came back to the tools I use in my own life and with the women I coach, starting with what I’d actually been telling myself. I’d managed to turn a cashier taking longer than expected into someone who was trying to make my life more difficult and responsible for ruining my day. When I questioned that thought, (my favorite way is simply asking, ‘is that actually true?’), it fell apart fairly quickly. She wasn’t standing behind the register plotting how to make my life more difficult. Perhaps she was having a hard day, or perhaps that was simply the pace she worked at. And realistically, a two-minute delay wasn’t going to have any real impact on my day. What was having an impact was the amount of anger and stress I was creating over something relatively minor.
Then I came back to a question I use regularly: who do I want to be in this situation? When I looked at it that way, I knew I’d rather be someone who can accept that people work at different paces and that things don’t always go to plan than someone who lets a two-minute delay at the checkout derail her whole afternoon.
None of that meant pretending the rage wasn’t real. I could feel it physically, and it was intense. I didn’t need to convince myself that standing in a queue was enjoyable, and I didn’t need to justify the rage either. I simply stopped believing the case my mind had built for it, and I chose not to build the second one against myself. I could acknowledge that my reaction was disproportionate without making it mean I’m a terrible person, and I could take responsibility for how I behaved (in my mind) without expecting to have complete control over every emotion that shows up.
Perimenopause has reminded me that understanding your thoughts and emotions doesn’t make you immune to them. I can know my rage is out of proportion and still feel it. I can see that a thought isn’t reasonable and still find it quite convincing in the moment. What the skills give me is the ability to notice what’s happening sooner and stop it growing into something much bigger, rather than spending the rest of the day furious about a cashier who had probably forgotten me the moment I walked out the door.
Where the pills come in
I’m personally am pleased there are more open conversations about perimenopause, including the medical side. For some women, menopausal hormone therapy (HRT), can make a substantial difference to their symptoms and quality of life. I think the idea that women need to just push through, deal with it, and stop being so emotional is outdated and unhelpful.
But why I loved the saying, skills and pills, is that I think equally important is understanding the skills to help support you through this time. When I look back at that day in the shop, I can see two separate things going on. One was the intensity of the wave, which is where medical support may genuinely help. The other was the story my mind built to justify the wave, and the conclusion I then reached about myself for having it. Even with the right treatment, we’re still going to have frustrating days, unhelpful thoughts and moments where we react more strongly than we’d like, and that’s where the skills come in.
I’ve seen this with some of the women I’ve coached. Some have sought medical support and noticed real improvements in their symptoms, yet still find themselves struggling with how they’re thinking about situations, how they’re responding or the shame they feel when things don’t go well. That’s not necessarily a sign their treatment hasn’t worked. They may simply be dealing with a different part of the experience, one that benefits from a different kind of support.
We don’t need to add shame to the symptoms
There’s so much about perimenopause that can feel outside our control. Our bodies are changing, symptoms can be unpredictable, and things that used to feel manageable can suddenly feel much harder. But we do not need to make that even more difficult by expecting ourselves to handle all of it perfectly. So if you’re finding yourself more emotional, reactive or overwhelmed than usual, it’s worth getting the right support for what’s happening in your body. It’s also worth paying attention to what you’re telling yourself about it. Are the reasons your mind is offering for a feeling actually true? And are you building a case against yourself for having that feeling at all?
I may not be able to prevent the next wave of disproportionate rage from showing up. But I can recognise when my mind is making it worse, and I can meet it without adding shame to the experience. Because I don’t know about you, but I do not want to spend this stage of my life at the mercy of my hormones, my thoughts or a two-minute delay at the checkout.
“You can’t stop the ways, but you can learn to surf.” Jon Kabat-Zinn
