What perimenopause can teach us about anxiety

The other night, on my way to bed, I paused outside my son’s room. It was late. He’d been asleep for a few hours. I opened the door quietly, stood in the doorway—and just listened.

I held my breath, trying to hear the soft rhythm of his... But I couldn’t.

So I walked across the room, slowly, carefully, right up to the side of his bed. Finally, there it was—his gentle breathing. Only then did my body let go, relaxing enough to carry me back to my own room and into bed.

In that moment, I recognised something I’ve actually known for years: since he was born nearly five years ago, not one night has passed without this flicker of worry—that something might happen to him while he sleeps.

This isn’t just parental concern. This is intrusive anxiety—a specific, persistent thought that pushes itself into my mind no matter how much I try to reassure myself. And the truth is, this one worry is just one of many. Worries about roads and school gates, playgrounds and caretakers, independence and danger—it’s a mental carousel I ride daily.

What struck me that night, though, was the persistence of these thoughts, despite everything I know and everything I’ve practiced. I’m someone who’s immersed in the world of emotional wellbeing. I’ve spent years in therapy. I’ve studied the mind deeply. I teach others how to care for themselves. And yet, here I am—still regularly having anxious thoughts like this.

In fact, in recent years, these thoughts have only intensified—especially during perimenopause.

But here is something I’ve also come to understand, not just professionally, but personally:

Anxiety isn’t inherently a problem.

It’s how we relate to it that matters.

Anxiety, when it shows up, is a messenger. It highlights something we deeply care about. Something we’re afraid of losing or getting wrong. And trying to eliminate it entirely, to “cure” it or force it away, often makes it louder.

When I try to ignore the urge to check on my son at night, I find myself lying awake, unsettled, ruminating. One thought triggers another, then another, until it feels like my entire nervous system is in a state of alarm. And more often than not, I end up getting out of bed anyway—to listen for his breath—only now I’m doing it while frustrated with myself for needing to.

In my experience, that self-judgment—the voice that says, “Why are you still anxious?”—is often more distressing than the original worry itself.

So I’ve stopped trying to shame or silence my anxiety. Now, I meet it differently.

I remind myself that this anxiety is also love. It’s concern, it’s connection, it’s care. And when I recognise that, it’s easier to take a simple action—like quietly checking in on him—without spiraling into panic or shame.

Perimenopause has played a strange but powerful role in this shift. This phase of life seems to unearth all the ways we’ve been pushing ourselves too hard—ignoring our needs, overriding our instincts, numbing our exhaustion. In many ways, my anxiety in this phase of life has become a mirror, reflecting back what truly matters, what I care deeply about, and where I need more gentleness with myself when I worry about what matters to me.

Perimenopause helps me see that the goal isn’t to eliminate my anxious thoughts.

It has helped me see that my goal should be to stop letting it rule me.

These days, when an intrusive thought arrives, I acknowledge it. I treat it with compassion, not contempt. And most of the time, that’s enough to stop it from expanding into something unmanageable.

Because when I validate my experience instead of fighting it, the anxiety stays in its lane. It doesn’t dominate. I don't let it steal my whole night - I don't let it contribute even more to the myriad of reaons I'm not sleeping well in perimenopause .

Now, my evening anxieties simply show up, they are seen & validated, and then they settle again quickly.

And in that space, created by acceptance of and compassion for my anxiety, I've found something remarkable happens: there’s room again—for rest, for creativity, for joy.

Perimenopause, for all its challenges, has taught me this: anxiety isn’t something we need to conquer. It’s something we can learn to meet with kindness—and in doing so, we free ourselves from its grip.

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I'm Dr. Jenny Turner, clinical psychologist and founder of Mind Body Soul Psychology - a specialist, trauma-informed, private psychology service for mothers in midlife - I can help you finally begin to relate to your own anxieties in a way that enriches your life.

I offer online appointments to women based all over the UK, and I offer in-person appointments in Ripon, North Yorkshire - click here to find out more: www.mindbodysoulpsychology.co.uk

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Ps. This post was created with the help of AI: I wrote an entirely original piece for my Substack newsletter recently, and I asked ChatGPT to re-word this original piece, so that I could publish it separately, as this blog, without negatively impacting the SEO of my website, or my Substack. I then read through ChatGPT's suggested blog, and edited it, to make it feel more like my own writing again.