Have you ever stopped to wonder why menopause exists? Or why perimenopause feels like Mother Nature decided to throw you into an unpredictable rollercoaster of hot flashes, mood swings, and night sweats? Why would evolution decide that just as we hit our stride, it’s time to shake things up? Scientists believe there’s actually a very good reason for this: the Grandmother Hypothesis.
Apparently, evolution decided that after a certain point, we’d be far more helpful as wise, all-knowing matriarchs than as exhausted new moms chasing toddlers at 50. (Honestly, thank you, evolution.) Instead of continuing to pop out babies, we’re meant to step into a new role—sharing our wisdom, keeping everyone fed (and hydrated because we are the ones who remember to pack the water bottles), and generally holding society together.
But here’s the thing: women in perimenopause and beyond aren’t just knitting in rocking chairs (unless it’s at a boutique café in Paris while sipping wine). We are thriving. We are adventuring. And, at Grit & Grace Adventures, we are proving that the best years of life are the ones we’re living right now.
When Evolution Forgot to Send Me the Memo
About five years ago, I started feeling off. And not just a little off—I mean completely out of character for me off. The negative self-talk was LOUD, and I couldn’t shut it down. My motivation? Gone. Vanished. Creativity? I couldn't seem to muster up an original thought. Sure, I was still working out, but I was just going through the motions, staring blankly at my running shoes as they’d personally betrayed me.
It got so bad that I convinced myself something was seriously wrong with me. Depression? A brain tumour? Maybe an undiagnosed case of chronic grumpiness? (I'm pretty sure that’s not an actual diagnosis, but I was ready to self-prescribe a beach and a piña colada anyway.)
This was so far from the me I knew, loved, and recognized. And that was the scariest part—I felt like I was disappearing.
A Little Help from Science (and a Lot of Trial and Error)
Thankfully, I’ve always been pretty in tune with my body, so instead of blindly accepting my doctor’s first response—Here, have some antidepressants—I went straight to my hormones. I didn’t know much about HRT at the time, but I remembered two strong, wise women in my life who had talked about bioidentical hormones, so I decided to dig deeper.
Blood work revealed that my DHEA levels were so low they resembled that of a 98-year-old. (I love a wise elder, but I wasn’t quite ready to be one.) Chronic stress had also taken its toll—even though I didn’t feel stressed. Turns out stress isn’t just about feeling overwhelmed in the moment. It’s about what’s been simmering under the surface for years.
And when I looked at my life in the years leading up to this?
• COVID
• Repatriating back to Canada after years abroad
• Completely overhauling my life
• Instant partnership
• Kids
• New business
• Everything changing at once
It was a cocktail of change, shaken and stirred with a dash of hormonal chaos. So, I got to work.
The (Sometimes Frustrating) Road to Feeling Like Myself Again
I managed my stress, got my DHEA levels up (even lost a few years—take that, aging!), and for a while, I felt better. But then—like a bad horror movie sequel—the symptoms crept back in.
By this point, I was deep in research mode, absorbing everything I could from experts like Dr. Mary Claire Haver and any podcast that mentioned perimenopause. That’s when I learned just how difficult it is to measure bioidentical hormones correctly and that the estrogen patch—the same one that’s been demonized for years—is made from the same thing.
Now, you’d think this would be a simple fix. Find a doctor, get the patch, and feel great. Ha. That would be too easy.
Finding a gynecologist who knew about HRT felt like searching for a unicorn in a haystack. Many doctors still buy into old, outdated, and debunked research about menopause, and the ones who do prescribe it are often booked out until the next century.
Luckily, I have the best GP who, in true rebel fashion, went rogue and booked me four appointments with four different gynecologists all over the city until I found my “fit.”
And I did. I got the estrogen patch. I got progesterone. And let me tell you—GAME. CHANGER.
• Mood? Balanced.
• Energy? Back.
• Body? Feels like my own again.
• Libido? Let’s say… my husband is very appreciative.
It was like someone finally turned the lights back on in a house I thought was about to be condemned.
Honoring the Women Who Came Before Us
As I navigated this journey, I thought about my grandmother—a true matriarch, wise and strong. She didn’t have access to the research we have now. She didn’t have a small army of specialists, podcasts, and hormone panels. She, like so many women before her, probably just pushed through.
And that’s what breaks my heart a little. How many generations of women just suffered through this in silence, assuming it was just “part of aging”? How many were told they were hysterical? That it was all in their heads? That they just needed to “relax”?
I refuse to let that be our story.
Travel as a Rite of Passage
Think about it: every other major life stage comes with some kind of ceremony. There’s the “Sweet 16” (which is just a countdown to getting your driver’s license), drinking age, voting age, the wedding (if that’s your thing), and even retirement parties (which we fully support if they involve piña coladas).
But where’s the celebration for stepping into the best, wisest, most adventure-ready version of ourselves? That’s where travel comes in. Travel is our rite of passage. It’s the ultimate declaration that we are here, still dreaming and not done yet.
Because if we’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that we are not just meant to survive. We are meant to live.
Answering the Call to Adventure
So, to all the incredible women who have spent years juggling careers, kids, partners, responsibilities, and remembering birthdays without a single written reminder—it’s your turn.
Not to fade into the background but to step into the foreground. Not to sit on the sidelines, but to walk the ancient streets of Vietnam, climb the hills of Santorini (with appropriate hydration breaks, obviously), or toast to new friendships under the stars in Patagonia.
Because perimenopause and menopause aren’t the end of something—they’re the beginning. And if evolution thought we were worth keeping around for decades longer, we should probably make it count.
So grab your passport, pack your favourite scarf (or four), and let’s make some history. Evolution would approve.
In adventure, and friendship
Penny
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