I didn’t know I was in perimenopause.

I didn’t even know that word yet.

All I knew was that my cycle, which had been predictable for twenty years, suddenly wasn’t.

One month it came early.

The next month it was late.

Then it was heavier than it had ever been.

I told myself it was stress.

I told myself I was just tired.

I told myself it was probably nothing.

But something felt different.

I was waking up in the middle of the night for no reason.

I felt on edge during the day.

Little things felt bigger than they used to.

And the hardest part wasn’t the symptoms.

It was the confusion.

No one had ever told me this stage existed.

Menopause was something older women went through.

I wasn’t there yet.

So what was this?

I remember standing in the kitchen one afternoon, trying to remember a word I’ve used a thousand times before.

It wouldn’t come.

That scared me more than the irregular cycle did.

Because now it felt like something was changing.

Not just physically.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

And I didn’t know whether I should be worried — or whether this was normal.

That’s the part no one prepares you for.

The not knowing.

The quiet second-guessing.

The way you start wondering if it’s you.

It wasn’t until I began researching hormone shifts before menopause that everything started to make sense.

Perimenopause.

The years leading up to menopause.

The years where cycles change.

Sleep changes.

Mood changes.

And no one connects the dots for you.

Once I understood what was happening, something shifted immediately.

I stopped blaming myself.

I stopped thinking I was unstable.

I stopped reacting to every symptom like it meant something catastrophic.

Understanding didn’t erase the symptoms.

But it gave me footing.

And footing changes how you move through something.

That’s why I wrote this book.

Not to dramatize this stage of life.

Not to minimize it either.

But to explain it clearly.

So when your cycle changes — and you feel that quiet confusion — you know what’s happening.

You don’t spiral.

You don’t misread yourself.

You don’t sit alone at night trying to connect dots no one ever showed you.

My name is Sarah Mitchell.

This book is what I wish someone had handed me the moment my cycle changed.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.