This past Labor Day weekend, I stood in Minnesota surrounded by my sister, my husband, all four of my daughters, my two granddaughters, three cousins, and two uncles. Together, we shared stories, laughed, cried, and sprinkled my parents’ ashes in the state they once called home…

For years, I heard the same story about women’s brains and menopause. Brain fog. Memory slips. Words that hover just out of reach. The unspoken implication underneath all of it: your mind is slipping. I believed it. Most of us did. It’s what we were handed. And watching my mom suffer with Alzheimer’s for four years and finally succumb to it last November has been so scary!

In my last article, we talked about something that stopped many of you in your tracks: the idea that your post-menopausal years weren’t designed to be a slow fade. According to the science of biology, they were designed to be the whole point. I promised you we’d go deeper. So let’s do that. Because understanding the philosophy is one thing…

Let me ask you something. When you think about menopause, what words come to mind? Hot flashes. Brain fog. The end of fertility. Decline. Oh – and possibly the mysterious urge to stand in front of the open freezer at 2 a.m. and call it self-care. Now let me ask you something else. What if every single one of those associations was wrong – or at least, wildly incomplete?

Whether you’re approaching retirement, recently retired, or simply starting to ask “what comes next”… this phase of life can feel more complicated than expected. Many of the women I speak with tell me: “I thought I’d feel happier than this.”

There comes a point in life when you begin to look at your story differently. Not just where you’re going, but where you’ve been. The choices you made. The roles you played. The responsibilities you carried. And for many women…

Over the past few months, I’ve been thinking a great deal about legacy. After losing both of my parents not long ago, I’ve found myself reflecting on what truly endures. Not just accomplishments or milestones, but the quieter things we pass down without fully realizing it. Grief has a way of sharpening that question…

I didn’t expect to begin the year this way. Like many of us, I entered January with exciting intentions – a little flashy, but with a sense of steadiness and hope. A new calendar. A fresh page. The belief that there would be time to ease into whatever came next…

As the new year settles in, there’s often a quiet pressure to move forward quickly. New goals. New routines. New expectations of who we should be now. But before we rush into plans and resolutions, I want to invite you to pause – just for a moment…

Some seasons arrive quietly and undo us.
This November has been one of those months for me. At the beginning of the month, I lost a long-term friend unexpectedly. My 93-year-old mom, who has been slowly disappearing into Alzheimer’s for four years…