Hey dolls!

Yes, I said it—dolls! It’s a name I’ve never used for y’all before, and to be honest, I used to side-eye the term. It reminded me of a version of myself I’ve since outgrown—one that tolerated subtle shade dressed in sweet words from people who didn’t mean me well. But that changed recently thanks to Island Queen by Vanessa Riley. The main character’s name? Dolly. And just like that, I’ve reclaimed the word and sprinkled it into today’s love note to you.

Island Queen is based on the real life of Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, a Black woman who bought her freedom—and her family’s—from chattel slavery and went on to build a legacy. A true eldest daughter through and through. Reading her story cracked something open in me. It made me think about lineage, resilience, and how so many of us eldest daughters carry our families—sometimes quite literally—through fire and into freedom. It also made me think about what happens when our bodies start changing, and we don’t have a soft place to land.

So today, I want to talk about something most of us weren’t warned about:

Perimenopause and the Eldest Daughter.

The Silent, Sweaty Storm

Let me be very clear: I haven’t been formally diagnosed with perimenopause. But baby, if waking up drenched in sweat at 4:45 a.m., battling dizzy spells, inconsistent periods, soul-snatching migraines, and acid reflux for dessert isn’t the writing on the hormonal wall—I don’t know what is.

For the longest time, I blamed everything else. Being out of shape. Stress. Poor sleep. Working too hard. I did not connect the dots because like many of you, I thought menopause and its messy little cousin perimenopause didn’t come knocking until your 40s or 50s.

But here’s the truth: Perimenopause can start in your mid-to-late 30s—sometimes even earlier, especially if you have conditions like PCOS (which I do). It’s a hormonal rollercoaster that nobody prepares us for, especially when we’re already juggling work, caregiving, emotional labor, and ancestral trauma.

And while the symptoms can vary, here’s a list that might sound uncomfortably familiar:

• Irregular periods (lighter, heavier, longer, shorter—you name it)
• Hot flashes and night sweats
• Tinnitus (ringing in the ears)
• Dizziness and fatigue
• Tingling in fingers and toes
• Heart palpitations
• Sudden onset of anxiety or panic
• Mood swings and brain fog
• Insomnia or trouble staying asleep
• Adult acne and skin changes
• GERD, acid reflux, and gut changes
• Unexplained weight changes
• Joint pain and muscle aches
• Migraines and tension headaches
• Changes in libido

It’s giving: everything, everywhere, all at once. And yet somehow, we’re expected to keep pushing through in silence.

When You Can’t Call Your Mama

This part is hard to write, but even harder to live through: the isolation.

For many women, perimenopause is navigated with guidance from their mothers, aunts, or elders. But what about those of us who are estranged from our families? What about the eldest daughters who always held everything (and everyone) together, and now find themselves falling apart with no one to turn to?

I’m in that boat. While my mother is alive, we don’t speak regularly. And when I once asked her about her perimenopause symptoms, she flat-out told me she never experienced it. Now, I don’t know how true that is—maybe she genuinely didn’t know what it was when she went through it. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it. Either way, I was left to figure this out alone.

If you’re estranged or low-contact with your family, especially your mother, you’re not imagining the grief. It’s not just about the symptoms—it’s the absence of guidance, of inherited wisdom, of someone simply saying, “You’re not crazy, baby. This is just what the body does.”

A Note on Medical Gaslighting

Let’s be real, Black women are too often misdiagnosed, dismissed, or ignored when we bring up our symptoms. We’re told we’re exaggerating. That it’s “just stress” or “just getting older.” Add being an eldest daughter to the mix—aka someone who’s been taught to downplay their pain and prioritize others—and it’s no wonder we don’t get help until we’re deep in the thick of it.

Even still, if your symptoms feel confusing or overwhelming, it is worth seeing a healthcare provider—ideally someone who specializes in women’s hormonal health. Rule out other conditions like thyroid issues, iron deficiency, or anxiety disorders that can mimic perimenopause. Your body deserves clarity and care.

What You Can Do at Home

If you suspect you’re entering perimenopause, here are a few home-based remedies and habits to help ease the discomfort:

• Track your symptoms with a journal or app. (Would y’all want a printable version? Let me know!)
• Magnesium and B-complex vitamins may help with anxiety, sleep, and nerve tingling.
• Peppermint or ginger tea for digestive issues.
• Cooling bed sheets or fans for night sweats.
• Daily walks and light movement to help reduce inflammation and boost mood.
• Epsom salt baths to calm the nervous system.
• Ditch caffeine (or at least reduce it) if heart palpitations and anxiety spike.
• Make room for rest, even when it feels unproductive.

Final Thoughts + Reflection

Perimenopause is not the end of youth—it’s the initiation into a new phase of power. But like any initiation, it demands grief, honesty, and letting go. It’s messy. It’s mysterious. And it’s not something we should have to endure in silence or shame.

So this Feelings Friday, I want you to ask yourself:

• Am I listening to my body or gaslighting it?
• What conversations am I afraid to have—about aging, change, or legacy?
• Who can I lean on when I can’t call my mother?

You’re not alone. You’re not broken. And you damn sure aren’t crazy.

You’re just evolving.

And maybe that’s the most sacred part of it all—becoming the elder you never had. Creating the soft landing you deserved. Birthing a new legacy in real time. If no one taught you how to do this, that’s okay. You’re teaching yourself now—and by doing that, you’re teaching all of us.

Here’s to being soft and strong, wise and weary, becoming and unbecoming. You’re doing beautifully, doll.