Menopause Came for My Memory. Then I Started Wondering if ADHD Had Been Here All Along.

There is something particularly offensive about reaching 48 and realising your body has started behaving like it has been subcontracted out to chaos.

One minute you are a reasonably competent woman who has managed decades of life on the basis of memory, instinct, decent eyesight and sheer force of personality. The next, you are standing in the kitchen wearing reading glasses you never asked for, forgetting why you walked in there, wondering why your jeans feel personally insulting, and asking yourself whether this is “just menopause” or whether your brain has quietly been running a different operating system all along.

Because that is the new midlife hobby, isn’t it?
Not yoga.
Not wild swimming.
Not finally learning to like olives.

No. It is diagnosing yourself with six possible conditions before lunch and ending the day convinced it might actually be dementia.

When Menopause Makes You Question Everything

Menopause has a nasty little talent for turning normal confidence into a full-scale internal investigation.

You lose words. You lose focus. You lose your train of thought so often it may as well be run by Southern Rail. You gain a waistline you did not order, a pair of reading glasses you deeply resent, and a monthly visitor who absolutely did not get the memo that she was supposed to be leaving the premises.

T.O.M.
Time of the Month.
Now less a guest, more an uninvited lodger with no respect for boundaries.

I have tried, politely and otherwise, to encourage her to holiday for at least five days a month. At best, she grants me three. It is a hostile takeover dressed as hormones.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, as memory slips and irritability rises and concentration starts behaving like a badly raised puppy, I began to wonder whether menopause had simply pulled back the curtain on something that had always been there.

Is It Menopause, ADHD, Autism… or Me Overthinking Myself Into Oblivion?

That is the question, isn’t it?

Am I a menopausal woman with brain fog, sensory overload and a short fuse because my hormones are staging a revolt? Or am I a woman who has quietly spent her whole life compensating for ADHD and only now, with the scaffolding of youth and oestrogen wobbling, can no longer pretend everything is fine?

And then, because apparently one existential spiral is never enough, another thought arrives:

What if it is not ADHD at all?
What if it is autism?

After all, I have loved several autistic boyfriends in my time and never really stopped to question why we aligned so naturally. I simply assumed I had some unusual emotional superpower. I could often sense what they were thinking, feel the shape of what they meant before they said it, read between silences as if subtitles had appeared for me alone.

Weird?
Maybe.
Or maybe it was just my normal.

Only now, in menopause, normal starts being dragged into the light and interrogated like a suspect.

Signs, Symptoms, or Just a Woman at the End of Her Tether?

I resonate deeply with wonderfully bright, intense, hyper-intelligent people, while still somehow maintaining a private belief that I am as thick as two short planks wrapped in self-doubt.

I empathise with other people’s pain so strongly it can feel as though my nervous system didn’t get the memo about where I end and they begin.

I hate the feel of my own skin on my own skin sometimes, which sounds melodramatic until you have experienced it and then it sounds like Tuesday.

I look at pages full of colour, emojis, noise and visual clutter and instantly feel tired. Not morally tired. Not intellectually tired. Spiritually tired. As if someone has designed a worksheet specifically to make my brain pack a bag and leave.

Give me a clean PDF.
A simple paragraph.
A bit of white space.
Muted colours.
A calm room.
Clothing that does not shout at me.

To some people that may sound bland. To me it sounds like peace.

And that is where the question starts scratching at the door again.

Is this ADHD in women?
Is this autism in adulthood?
Is this perimenopause?
Is this menopause?
Or have I simply reached the age where my tolerance for nonsense has evaporated and I would now like everything, including other people’s fonts, to calm down?

The Self-Diagnosis Spiral Is Real

I have completed the AQ10 test for autism more than ten times. You can take it here if you're like me and wonder the same - it takes 3 minutes and no more. AQ TEST - Am I Autistic? - I did it and discovered it incurred a payment of $1.95 / £1.52 - WHAT!!!? - I do not endorse this company, however, it is a more in-depth report one of the other free tests out of 13 across the internet I have completed....

Which, in itself, perhaps suggests I am not the picture of breezy neurotypical certainty.

And every time I do it, I seem to fail as an autistic adult. Not in life, obviously. I have done very well at failing far more glamorous things than that. But according to the test, no neat answer arrives. No tidy box swings open and says, “There you are, love. We’ve been expecting you.”

So naturally I have moved on to hunting for an ADHD self-diagnosis with the energy of a woman looking for her glasses while they are on her head.

Because when your brain feels different, you want a reason.
A shape.
A label.
Something you can hold up to the light and say, “Ah. So that’s why.”

Not because we are desperate to turn ourselves into a list of acronyms, but because uncertainty is exhausting. Especially when you are already tired, hormonal, overwhelmed, and one badly designed planner away from throwing your printer out of the window.

Why Menopause Can Unmask Things You’ve Carried for Years

I think this is the part many women understand in their bones.

Menopause does not just bring symptoms. It brings revelation.

It strips back the coping strategies that once made life manageable. The mental tabs we used to keep open begin crashing. The energy we once used to mask, push through, people-please, overcompensate, and quietly hold everything together suddenly becomes unavailable.

And without that layer of buffering, traits you have lived with forever can feel louder.

The distractibility.
The sensory overwhelm.
The all-or-nothing focus.
The social exhaustion.
The overthinking.
The emotional intensity.
The need for order, calm, simplicity, predictability.

Things that were once manageable become impossible to ignore.

So yes, maybe it is menopause.
But maybe menopause is also the torch, not the whole cave.

When Simple Things Feel Like Relief

That is why I am drawn to calm things now.

Simple pages.
Minimalist layouts.
Quiet colours.
Design that does not scream for attention like a hen party in matching sashes.

There is something deeply comforting about a planner that seems to understand that not everyone wants motivational chaos splashed across every inch of paper. Sometimes what a woman needs is not a rainbow productivity assault. Sometimes she needs a page that gently says:

It is OK to like simple.
It is OK to need less visual noise.
It is OK if you do not fill every box.
It is OK if your brain needs room to breathe.

That kind of design feels less like stationery and more like being emotionally exhaled upon.

And perhaps that is why it resonates so much. Because when your mind feels crowded, anything calm starts to feel like kindness.

The Quiet Realisation Beneath All the Overthinking

Recently I have also discovered, with the sort of weary amusement only midlife can provide, that I am definitely a people pleaser.

Not the glamorous, breezy sort.
The deeply committed, slightly overachieving sort.

The sort who wants everyone to feel seen. The sort who worries if something is not landing. The sort who will happily adjust, refine, rethink and offer another option because the idea that someone might not feel catered for gnaws away at her like a tiny Victorian moral crisis.

So when I find something that feels soothing and right to me, I immediately want to know whether it resonates with someone else too.

And if it does not? My first instinct is not offence. It is, “Right then, let me find one that does.”

Which is lovely, in one sense. Exhausting, in another. And probably a separate blog entirely.

Am I ADHD, Autistic, Menopausal… or Simply More Aware Now?

Perhaps the honest answer is: I do not fully know.

Perhaps I am a menopausal woman whose hormones have turned up the volume on every sensitivity, every thought loop, every forgotten word and every emotional edge.

Perhaps I have ADHD traits that were easy to miss when I was younger, busier, sharper, more hormonally padded and too busy coping to stop and question them.

Perhaps I have autistic traits that feel familiar, meaningful and quietly woven through my life, even if a test has never handed me a neat conclusion.

Or perhaps I am simply a woman in midlife doing what so many women do: trying to understand herself with compassion before panic gets there first.

And honestly, that might be enough for now.

Not every question has to be answered in one dramatic sitting with Wi-Fi, a symptom checker and a rapidly warming glass of wine.

Sometimes it is enough just to notice what feels true.

That you are more overwhelmed than you used to be.
That clutter drains you.
That simplicity soothes you.
That you are not imagining the changes.
That your brain may need a different kind of support now.
That none of this makes you broken, hopeless or fading.

It makes you a woman paying attention.

And in midlife, that is not weakness. That is wisdom with slightly worse eyesight.

Does This Resonate With You?

So tell me honestly: does this sound familiar?

The overthinking.
The sensory irritation.
The loss of focus.
The fear that it is ADHD, autism, menopause, burnout, dementia, or all five before breakfast.
The relief of simple, calm, uncluttered things.
The desire to be understood without having to explain every inch of yourself.

Because if it resonates, you are very much not alone.

And if it does not, that is alright too. It is fully in my nature to keep searching until I find the version that does.

Apparently I am not only menopausal and questioning my entire neurological history.

I am also, it turns out, alarmingly committed to making everyone comfortable.

Which, frankly, feels like the most diagnosable thing here.

If you've got to the end, and like me, forgot where the AQ Test is, HERE it is (I did it and discovered it incurred a payment of $1.95 / £1.52 - WHAT!!!? - I do not endorse this company, however, it is a more in depth report than another free test I have completed... ).

Or if it's ADHD you're toying with, check this little 3 minute test (this one's free) HERE.