Halfway through the hot yoga class – my first in over a decade – I felt a wave of volcanic heat rising in my chest. As a sea of spandex-clad bodies moved ballet-style around me, I collapsed onto my mat in a child’s pose. Sweat was dripping from my forehead. The heater across the room hissed and blew another burst of hot air into the small, enclosed studio.
As I tried to catch my breath, the twenty-something yoga instructor shouted over the electropop playlist: “If you want to experience growth, you have to do more!” »
I couldn’t help but feel like she was speaking directly to me, and so I gathered up the last of my strength. But when I stood up to join Warrior Two’s class, the heat in my chest exploded into flames. I had a huge hot flash.
I didn’t finish this yoga class. Instead, I rolled up my rug and fled the studio for the air-conditioned bathroom where I stuck my head under the icy faucet. It took my body an hour to return to a state of homeostasis, and I felt exhausted and dehydrated for days, no matter how much electrolytes I consumed.
Looking back, I’m not sure what got me into hot yoga in the first place. Since breast cancer treatments pushed me into sudden and premature menopause at age 37, I have suffered from chronic, debilitating hot flashes. Sitting in the sun for too long can trigger an episode, let alone an hour-long exercise class in 100-degree infrared heat.
In October 2017, I discovered a lump – the shape and density of a marble – located just above my right breast. I thought it was something left over from breastfeeding my then 18 month old son. However, two years prior, I lost my mother to rapidly progressing chondrosarcoma and learned painstakingly that with cancer, early detection is key. As I pressed on the lump under my skin, I made a mental note to follow up with my primary care physician, just in case.
Courtesy of Anna Sullivan
Later that week, following a mammogram and biopsy, I found out that my breast cancer diagnosis was early and estrogen receptor positive (ER+), meaning I would not have no need for chemotherapy. Two months later, I had a unilateral mastectomy, and a 10-year adjuvant treatment began after surgery: a daily medication, Letrozole, to remove all estrogen from my body, and quarterly Lupron injections to stop my ovaries.
“These two treatments will push you into menopause,” my oncologist informed me, as if explaining a simple math equation. “You may or may not experience symptoms.”
“Okay,” I replied. At the time, I knew so little about menopause that I had no follow-up questions.
This quickly changed. Within a few weeks, a wave of symptoms hit me with force. I suffered from insomnia and night sweats, muscle and body aches, brain fog, mood swings, fatigue and hot flashes. I also had symptoms of genitourinary menopausal syndrome (GSM), which caused frequent urinary tract infections and vaginal dryness that disrupted my sex life. At 37, I was Benjamin Button in reverse: I had aged 20 years in just two weeks.
It was as if the cancer drugs had hijacked my body and abandoned me in an unknown land: menopause. I woke up every night drenched in cold sweat, as if someone had poured a glass of water over my head. My joints creaked like an old wooden board every time I stood up. My temper was all over the place and I became angry with my two young children. I was confused about my symptoms and felt isolated in my experience. I couldn’t talk to my close friends about what I was experiencing because no one else in my peer group had experienced it yet.
“Have you tried any homeopathic remedies?” my primary care doctor asked me one day. I was back on her exam table, lamenting my menopausal symptoms. “A few supplements and vitamins might help.”
Later that afternoon, I went home and Googled “menopause cure.” I looked through the vast selection of expensive organic remedies—supplements, vitamins, treatments—that appeared on my screen. I quickly ordered a pharmaceutical grade vitamin D3 supplement and a daily women’s vitamin, both of which helped provide some relief from my chronic pain.
Over the next few days, I noticed my targeting algorithms had adjusted, and a series of ads took over my Instagram feed, touting everything from menopause facial serums and shampoos to herbal teas. At first, I found it impossible to resist the beautifully packaged products – the promise that a green juice or body oil could restore my stolen youth. I bought an expensive Aegean scrub to combat my dry skin, as well as an overpriced “menopause protein powder”. And even though none of these products really worked, there always seemed to be another one I could buy.
Courtesy of Anna Sullivan
Over the past decade, menopause has grown into an industry expected to bring in $24.4 billion by 2030. Despite a recent positive shift in public discourse around menopause – thanks in part to public figures like Drew Barrymore and Gayle King who spoke about their experiences – capitalism has colluded with the “menopause industry” and continues to perpetuate a negative anti-aging culture.
I know it took me a minute to differentiate between “healthy aging and improved quality of life” and “anti-aging,” but my Amazon cart had become proof enough. In my efforts to turn back time, I had fallen prey to the fallacy that aging is shameful and, worse, that it is somehow magically preventable — if only we bought and applied the right facial serum.
Over the years, I’ve learned that menopause isn’t just about hot flashes and dry skin, but also an increased risk of serious illnesses, like dementia and osteoporosis. I learned that taking care of my body and mind means investing in my future health. For example, I adjusted my exercise programs to focus on bone strength and mobility rather than weight loss. I also learned that this next stage of life is about accepting changing relationships – marriages, friendships, and family – and empty nests. It’s about reexamining value systems and reprioritizing what’s important in life.
For me, it was about redefining my expectations of beauty and self-worth, as well as letting go of the need to measure myself by anyone else’s standards other than my own. I understood that with aging comes deeper wisdom and better discernment. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that I don’t need to do more To experience growth and change, I can simply do things differently.
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I became acutely aware that time is the most precious commodity. During those first days, while I waited for my biopsy results, I lay awake at night, consumed by fear and anxiety. I wanted to live to see my two sons grow up. I wanted to live the grandmother’s life. In other words, I desperately wanted to survive cancer and grow old. But when my hormone treatment plunged me into induced menopause, I felt like what was left of my youth had been taken away from me. I quickly lost sight of what was important: I was still alive.
These days, when I look in the mirror, I see someone who has survived cancer and the intense grief of losing a parent. Cancer and sudden menopause gave me the opportunity to prematurely face my own mortality and decide what’s important to me: my family, my health, my friends, my career. It helped me accept the idea that aging is not something that needs to be fixed. There is no cure for menopause. It’s just another part of life. I am grateful to have learned this lesson while I was still young.
Courtesy of Anna Sullivan
I went to this hellish hot yoga class at my friend’s request. I remember thinking that if I could just complete the course, it would mean I would be back to my old self – my pre-cancer self. But maybe we don’t have to carry a heavy burden to feel young again. Sometimes I still feel like I’m 25. Other days I feel like a shell of the person I used to be. On these days, I try to slow down and practice self-compassion, something I struggled with before surviving breast cancer. I remind myself that self-love means I don’t always need to fully express the pose. Sometimes you just have to show up, sit on your mat, and breathe.
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Anna Sullivan is a mental health therapist, author and co-host of “Healing + Dealing.” She wrote for The New York Times, Vogue, Cosmopolitan, HuffPost, Today, Newsweek, Salon, and more. She is currently writing a book, “Private parts“, on menopause brought on early due to cancer treatment.
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