The Shed Diaries

I’m sharing my journey through perimenopause not because I have all the answers — far from it — but because I know how lonely and confusing this time can feel. If even one person reading this nods along and feels seen, then it’s worth every word.

Looking back, my symptoms started when I was 39. But with a newborn, sleep deprivation, and the whirlwind of motherhood, I just blamed stress and exhaustion. The signs were subtle at first — feeling more highly strung, a dip in sex drive, daily anxiety, and forgetting things more than usual. It didn’t raise alarm bells. Not yet.

When Everything Became Too Much

By the time I turned 41, life felt like a battle. My anxiety ramped up. I was crying over absolutely nothing, flipping from laughter to sobbing in minutes. I felt hypersensitive to sound — I couldn’t cope with my husband talking, Sophia calling for me, the washing machine spinning and the kettle boiling all at once. It felt like the world was too loud, and I just couldn’t concentrate.

And the brain fog… don’t even get me started. I’m known for being organised — but suddenly, I couldn’t remember what I was doing or why I’d walked into a room. I honestly thought I was going crazy.

Lightbulb Moment: I’m Not Losing It — I’m Perimenopausal

Chatting with close clients and friends, someone joked I might be perimenopausal. That joke became a turning point. I did some research and picked up Davina McCall’s Menopausing — and wow, it was like reading my own diary.

For the first time, everything made sense. I wasn’t losing my mind. I was navigating a major hormonal shift.

Fighting to Be Heard

But knowing what was wrong and getting help were two different things.

My first trip to the GP? I left with a prescription for antidepressants. I was told I was “too young” for perimenopause.

I tried the meds. They didn’t help. I got worse. I hit rock bottom.

I remember being in B&M with Sophia in the trolley. I was mooching the aisles and suddenly — fog. I couldn’t remember why I was there. I wandered, hoping something would jog my memory. Instead, I spiralled into anxiety, and in the middle of the shop, I just broke down sobbing.

Bless Sophia. “Mummy, you okay? Need a cuddle?” That little moment of love broke me more. I got us home, called the doctor in tears, and thankfully, this time I was heard.

I poured it all out. My research. My symptoms. My desperation. And finally — a prescription for HRT. That little slip of paper gave me more than medication — it gave me hope.

The Rollercoaster of Relief (and the Next Curveball)

Two months into a low dose of HRT, I was a different woman. My moods lifted, the brain fog eased, and life felt a little lighter again. Even my GP was surprised and pleased.

But just when I started to settle… BAM. My first hot flash.

And let me tell you — this wasn’t just “a bit hot and sweaty.” It felt like I was about to burst into flames. I was radiating heat like a human radiator. I’ve stripped down to my bra and pants (not in the salon, don’t worry!) and sobbed in pure frustration. I’m an autumn-and-winter girl. This kind of heat is torture.

The Ongoing Battle

Then came the dry, itchy skin. Breakouts. Dull hair. Feeling — and looking — haggard. I was snappy, irritable, and poor Rob took the brunt of it. (Apparently, it’s normal to randomly dislike your husband during menopause. Who knew?!)

So, back to the GP I went. This time, I met a wonderful doctor who actually listened. We increased my dose, and now I’m in the waiting game — hoping for balance, bracing through the waves, and taking it one day at a time.

Why I’m Sharing This

Because I want you to know: you are not alone.

If you’re struggling, questioning your mind or body, or feeling like you’re losing control — please talk to someone. Pop into the salon. Message me. Rant. Cry. Laugh. Whatever you need — The Pamper Shed is a safe space.

Menopause and perimenopause look different for everyone. But if we keep sharing — openly, honestly, bravely — we’ll build a better understanding not just among women, but with the men in our lives too. We’ll create communities of support instead of silence.

I’ll be sharing more soon about the lifestyle changes that are helping me through. But for now — if this resonates with you, let’s keep the conversation going.

You are not going mad. You are not weak. You are going through something powerful. And you are most definitely not alone.

With love and honesty,
Emma @ The Shed Diaries