I just got rid of another pair of jeans.
Not because I’m giving up.
Not because they were worn out.
But because they don’t fit who I am right now, literally or metaphorically.
And here’s the thing: it’s taken me some time to be okay with that.
No one prepares you for this part of life.
Perimenopause hits in waves.
And it’s not something a supplement or a good night’s sleep can fully fix.
My body has changed.
My face looks different—older.
My hair has thinned.
My weight has shifted. My moods swing wider. My sleep is unpredictable.
I feel more sensitive, more reactive, more easily overstimulated. And then, without warning, there are days I feel completely fine. Like nothing is wrong.
Until it is again.
This season is disorienting.
It’s frustrating.
It can feel lonely.
But what I’ve come to realize is that the hardest part of it all isn’t the symptoms—it’s the resistance.
It’s the constant inner fight against what is.
The longing to go back to who I used to be.
The pressure to keep up with a past version of myself.
The expectation to look, feel, or function like I did before everything started shifting.
And when I resist what’s true now, I suffer. I push. I shame. I hustle to prove something. And in doing so, I abandon myself.
The truth is, we were never meant to stay the same.
That younger version of me?
She wasn’t the final destination—she was just one chapter. And the more I try to shrink myself back into her shape—physically, emotionally, energetically—the more I miss the woman I’m actually becoming.
There’s grief in this transition.
Grief for the girl who didn’t know what was coming.
Grief for the energy and radiance and bounce-back I used to count on.
But that grief, when I let myself feel it, also opens a doorway.
It makes room for something else to rise.
Something deeper.
Something wiser.
I’m not being passed over.
I’m not becoming irrelevant.
I’m becoming a woman with wisdom.
A woman who knows.
A woman who’s been through things, who doesn’t need to pretend, who trusts herself more than she ever has.
That’s not a loss—it’s a homecoming.
What I want you to know is this: self-acceptance isn’t a passive act.
It’s not giving up.
It’s one of the most courageous choices we can make.
Because in a world that’s constantly telling us we need to look younger, do more, and be everything for everyone, choosing to honor who you are—right now, in this body, in this moment—is nothing short of revolutionary.
So here’s what I want you to do.
I want you to notice where you’re still chasing an old version of yourself. Where you’re performing, pleasing, punishing, or pretending.
And I want you to stop.
Just for a moment.
Stop abandoning who you are now in service of who you used to be.
That woman got you here.
Thank her.
And then let her rest.
You’ve got it from here.
And finally, I want you to accept that you’re not broken.
You’re evolving.
This is not the end of your relevance or your worth.
This is the beginning of your return to self.
This is what stepping into wisdom looks like.
It might not be glamorous. But it is grounding. It is honest. It is deeply, powerfully real.
BOLD Woman Reflection
Here’s a simple exercise.
Go to your closet.
Find one item—an old pair of jeans, a dress, a jacket—that no longer fits the woman you are becoming.
Let it go.
Release it without shame or story.
And then, look in the mirror.
Place your hand on your heart.
Take a breath.
And say out loud, “I am not going back. I am becoming.”
Because you are. And you don’t have to do it alone.
With so much love,
Gretchen
