Four seasons in one month
There are patterns I’ve come to recognise in my body and emotions over the years in relation to the rhythm that moves through my body each month.
Within this cycle that, at times, feels like living through four seasons in the space of a few weeks. There can be moments of expansion, energy, clarity – and a sense of movement and possibility. And then, gradually, something begins to shift.
A turning inward. A slowing down. A contraction that I can feel not just emotionally, but physically – through my body, my breath, my energy.
It feels like autumn arriving… and then winter.
The instinct to override
For a long time, my hope was to head this process off at the pass. A wish to find a way to stay in the “summer” state, to maintain the clarity, the energy, the sense of being on top of things…
To manage it, control it, even master it.
There has been a quiet belief underneath that perhaps, by the time I reach menopause, I might somehow have figured it out. A sense that this rhythm will no longer drive me and I will know how to be unaffected and consistent.
But I’m beginning to see that perhaps the opposite is true.
Nothing to fix
What if this isn’t something to master? What if it’s something to recognise… to allow… and to relate to differently?
Each season brings something of its own.
Spring and summer offer energy, creativity, expansion.
Autumn and winter bring sensitivity, reflection and a drawing inward.
Moving through the seasons
Over time, I’ve come to recognise these shifts in a way that feels like moving through seasons.
When my cycle begins, there can be a sense of release and a softening.
Almost like something has passed. Like spring arriving.
As the days follow, there is often more energy, a sense of openness, creativity and possibility: summer.
And then, gradually, something begins to turn. Not always dramatically but a slowing down and a drawing inward. Like the first leaves beginning to fall:
autumn.
At certain points – particularly in the days before my cycle begins again – there can be a deeper shift. A sensitivity, an emotional intensity and a rawness that feel closer to the surface: winter.
The changing of the seasons
What I’ve come to notice is that it’s not always the seasons themselves that feel the most challenging. Sometimes it can be the transitions between them.
The moments where something shifts, sometimes quickly. I can feel open and steady one moment, and then suddenly, something feels much closer, more tender and more exposed.
At times, it can feel like a storm rolling in, especially as I move through perimenopause, these shifts can feel more pronounced and immediate.
And just like the seasons outside of us, this cycle is not always predictable.
Sometimes autumn seems to arrive early.
Sometimes winter feels long.
Sometimes spring comes gently.
Sometimes it feels abrupt.
Some cycles feel lighter and more spacious. Others feel heavier and more intense. But the rhythm remains.
And I am not the same each time in each season.
Sometimes everything feels too much
I noticed recently that I had been feeling light, open and happy throughout the day and then something small happened, something just outside of my control. Suddenly, everything shifted. A sense of overwhelm rose quickly – and disproportionately. And with this came the feeling that everything else I was holding (quietly, in the background) was suddenly also too much.
It was as though something had been touched. Not just the moment itself, but something underneath it that was already there.
What the body reveals
When I look more closely at these moments, I see a pattern. At certain points in my cycle – particularly in the transitions between the seasons – I am more sensitive, open and susceptible.
Not because something is wrong… but because my tender parts are closer to the surface. What I might be able to hold with ease at one point in the month can feel much harder at another.
But perhaps this isn’t a failure of regulation. Perhaps it is an opening…
The wisdom in the cycle
Each cycle seems to bring its own invitation; sometimes it is ease, sometimes it is clarity – and sometimes it is discomfort, irritation or an emotion that feels bigger than the moment.
But within that, there is often something to be seen – or something that has not yet been fully felt, acknowledged or integrated.
An opportunity for healing, if I am able to turn towards it, rather than away.
When I am able to stay with what is there – to feel it, rather than move into the story of it – the storm can pass more quickly. Not because it wasn’t real, but because I felt them fully.
Allowing the rhythms
There is something humbling in recognising that I am not the same person throughout the month.
That I cannot show up in exactly the same way: as a mother, a partner, a friend, a practitioner…
That I am constantly shifting: my capacity, my needs and my body.
And perhaps the work is not to override that… but to acknowledge it and to meet myself where I am.
A different kind of mastery
As I move closer to menopause, I notice other changes too. There is a softening in some areas; for example my capacity for memory is changing. But alongside that, I notice that something else is growing. My intuition feels sharper and clearer. As though one part of me is ebbing, while another is quietly strengthening.
It would be easy to see this stage of life as a kind of loss and a continual shedding. But I’m beginning to wonder if it is also a transition. A cocooning and the beginning of something else.
Coming back to the body
What I am learning is that none of this is separate from the body. These shifts are not just hormonal, they are lived, felt and embodied. The more I try to move away from them, the harder they seem to feel.
But when I begin to turn towards what is there: the sensations, emotions and the subtle changes – something softens.
Not always immediately, but gradually.
An invitation
If you recognise any of this in yourself, you are not alone.
You may notice times of expansion and ease… and times of contraction and sensitivity. Moments where everything flows… and moments where tenderness feel closer to the surface.
There is nothing wrong in this; there is a rhythm – and perhaps, within that rhythm there is something to be understood – not through fixing, but through listening.
You’re welcome to take a moment to notice where you are in your own cycle – and what your body might be asking for right now.