Ai-yi

If I’m lucky, my menstrual periods will soon cease to be in two to three years, for I have officially entered late perimenopause.

You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to the final cessation of my menses.

Now that it’s becoming truer and truer that my periods will cease with finality, I feel myself drawing closer and closer to the Crone phase of the maiden-mother-crone cycle.

For the past year, I have been tracking my dreams and interpreting them through a Jungian lens, while simultaneously tracking my erratic perimenopausal menstrual periods.

Watching my cycles shift toward menopause has actively spurred and influenced this inner work; as the physical trajectory mirrors the path of individuation. In entering perimenopause, I have stepped further into what Carl Jung called the Afternoon of Life—the stage in our lives when the greater part of individuation takes place, and when psychological energy shifts its movement inward.

Physically, I have had symptoms that forced me to slow down. I stopped multitasking because I easily get sensory overload and overwhelm. I experience eye strain, random joint pain, and fatigue, but unlike some women, I have no brain fog. Instead, I get hyper-energy focus in spotty times—not all the time—with thoughts racing.

I will not recite the litany of my other symptoms; that is just too tedious. What I can say is that women in perimenopause, like me, develop zero tolerance for bullshit. We banish or minimize the things that lurk in the background and subtly irritate us.

The fire that lights the path of the future

Much has been said about hot flashes. I do not have them. Yet. But in a hormonal hissy fit, I can become easily enraged and anxious for no apparent reason. (Heart palpitations, anyone?) Yet the sudden physical bursts and the heat they bring can only be described as passion or raw rage. It is a fire that burns away all the rubbish of my past and a light that lets me see my life very, very clearly.

I am also so done with the sexual functions that having menses implies. I now see my cycles as having been a means to an end: conceiving my children. Since they are teenagers now, it is good riddance to that, as well as to other “carnal” or materialistic things.

This transition is actually in service to walking my personal trajectory of brahmacharya. This yogic concept is one I follow in the sense of orienting my life toward higher goals and higher meaning now in middle age. And yes, included with that is a sort of accidental abstinence.

Part of this redirection is the work of minimalism—but not Marie Kondo minimalism. What I am doing is more aligned with the philosophy of Swedish Death Cleaning. It’s about intentionality—simplifying my life to ensure I am not leaving a burden for those I eventually leave behind, while looking forward realistically to my old age and the necessity of its upkeep.

As I edit my external life, I am simultaneously stripping my inner life down to its bare bones. I now fully believe what Cal Newport says about multitasking: that it simply does not work. In terms of practicality, this minimizing effort—both inside and out—helps me cope with the low threshold for sensory overload in perimenopause.

Embracing the Role of the Wise Woman

Whether in the West or the East, aging brings a specific, enigmatic wisdom that stands on its own. As a Chinoy, I can proudly say that I am stepping into the shoes of an Ai-yi (阿姨). In Filipino, a Manang.

Within these words exists an image, an archetype: that of an older woman with white hair as a Wise Woman. This is someone who values transcendence and legacy more than physical beauty. We Chinoys have a word for this: 壽.

While 壽 is often understood as longevity, Lao Tzu explains it more acutely in Chapter 33 of the Tao Te Ching. He distinguishes between jiǔ (久)—merely lasting, being productive, or gaining tenure—and shòu (壽): “To die but not be forgotten is true longevity.”

This points directly to legacy—achieving an intellectual and psychological endurance that outlasts our physical existence, rather than just accumulating years on earth.

Crossing the Threshold

For me, this period feels strikingly similar to pregnancy. Just like when I was pregnant with my two babies, I do not feel fully in control of my body. But this time around, that lack of control has actually fueled my psychological growth through the Jungian integration process.

I do not plan on spending my final chapters wandering aimlessly like the hollow shell of a woman past her prime. I want to die in the line of fire, fulfilling my purpose.

I am dissatisfied with predominantly Western narratives about menopause, perimenopause, and women aging. I do not want Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), nor do I want to excessively prolong my youth. I reject the cultural obsession with looks. Instead, I want to adapt to my lower hormone levels and embrace this fading. As these physical urges, needs, and demands fade, another aspect of me emerges.

I will embrace my menopause era with glee. No more venerating the glory days of my youth. I give zero f*cks (pun intended) about looking desirable or dating younger men, if ever that time comes.

Instead, I will pursue writing and my intellectual life. Perhaps another master’s degree or even a doctorate. And no, I will not be traveling. That is definitely not my jam, and I am unafraid to say it now, unpopular opinion though it may be.

As a mother of teenagers looking toward the future, I want to cultivate the part of myself that is visionary, a seeker of truth. I am not a teacher in the strict sense, but a writer, an author, a cataloger of reality, a Wounded Sage-Wounded Healer hybrid.

When the white hair finally comes to seal this transition, I will not dye it. It will be an honor to step into the role and put on that crowning glory.

Granted, right now in late perimenopause, the transition is endangering my stability. The random symptoms popping is an assault. Pure and simple body betrayal. But I accept that this is the price to pay to cross the threshold. My hope is to cross it soon—before I lose my balance to another bout of vertigo, tear out what remains of my thinning hair, or get caught short by a sudden onset of tinnitus—eeeeeeee.

The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.