Female Hormones: Our Fickle Fairweather Friend

My hormones and I are in a โ€œsituationship.โ€

Years ago, I became convinced I was getting less intelligent.

I would walk into a room and forget why. Lose all my trains of thought mid-sentence. Derailed. No coming back.

Iโ€™d constantly search for words that had wandered off unsupervised. They would come back hours later, long after it was needed and with no apology whatsoever.

I blamed stress.

I blamed being busy.

I blamed getting older.

In reality, it was probably all of those things, mixed with hormonal changes I didnโ€™t fully understand yet.

Female hormones are funny. Theyโ€™re a bit like a Saskatchewan summer storm. One minute the sky is clear, the sun is shining, and life feels manageable. The next, the wind picks up, the clouds roll in, and youโ€™re wondering if you should have brought a jacket, umbrella and storm cellar.

The weather didnโ€™t become bad.

It changed.

Our hormones do too.

Female hormones are a bit like Saskatchewan weather. If you donโ€™t like whatโ€™s happening right now, wait ten minutes.

Most of us think of hormones as reproductive messengers, but they influence far more than our cycles. They affect sleep, memory, focus, mood, energy, and even how connected we feel to the people around us.

One of the most interesting ideas I encountered from a recent podcast interview with Dr. Anna Cabeca. While estrogen, progesterone, and testosterone get most of the attention, hormones like cortisol and oxytocin may have an even bigger impact on how we experience daily life.

Oxytocin is often called the love hormone. Itโ€™s associated with connection, belonging, trust, laughter, affection, friendship, pets, nature, and community.

Likewise, oxytocin and cortisol tend to pull in opposite directions.

But the story doesnโ€™t end there. The plot thickens.

As any prairie girl knows, sunshine and thunderstorms often share the same forecast.

When stress becomes chronic, such as in a body dealing with chronic pain, connection often suffers.

Many of us donโ€™t just feel tired. We feel disconnected.

From ourselves.

From others.

From the things that once brought us joy.

Progesterone plays a role too. It supports sleep, cognition, brain health, and nervous system regulation.

Testosterone contributes to motivation, confidence, energy, and focus. Both naturally decline as we age, and both can be influenced by chronic stress.

Side note: I would like to point out that aging naturally isn’t nearly as freaky as whatever is happening with the people trying desperately to avoid it. Also, at what age do we start meeting for Bingo? Because I’m ready.

Progesterone naturally declines in women, typically beginning in the mid-thirties as ovarian function gradually changes.

My body got the memo that the warranty has expired. All systems started responding the way youโ€™d expect at the end of a warranty. (despite the fact that I was built in the 70s and should have been made to last)

Looking back at my own health journey, I spent years trying to solve individual symptoms.

If I could just stop the migraines.

If I could just overcome the fatigue.

If I could just break the insomnia.

What I eventually learned is that the body doesnโ€™t divide itself into neat little boxes the way we often do.

Sleep affects stress.

Stress affects hormones.

Hormones affect mood.

Mood affects relationships.

Relationships affect wellbeing.

Pull one thread and the whole thing unravels.

Thatโ€™s why healing often requires support from multiple directions.

๐Ÿ‘ Good food.

๐Ÿ‘ Movement.

๐Ÿ‘ Sleep.

๐Ÿ‘ Stress management.

๐Ÿ‘ Connection.

๐Ÿ‘ Time outdoors.

The podcast also reinforced something Iโ€™ve known for years: nature has a remarkable way of helping us regulate.

Not because it magically solves our problems, but because it reminds our nervous systems what calm feels like.

Like sitting quietly in warm sunshine after a long winter.

Like hearing nothing but leaves rustle in the breeze.

The Practice

One simple forest therapy practice is this:

  • Stop
  • Notice 5 things moving around you (leaves, clouds, grass, insects, birds)
  • Listen for 3 sounds
  • Notice 2 scents
  • Take one slow breath

Itโ€™s amazing how quickly the nervous system responds when we give it the chance.

The body benefits from movement, and the mind benefits from stillness.

Sakyong Mipham

Ways To Support Oxytocin Naturally

The good news is that many of the things that support oxytocin are surprisingly simple.

  • Hug someone you love.
  • Spend time with a pet.
  • Get outside.
  • Sit around a table with friends.
  • Laugh.
  • Touch grass. Literally.
  • Watch a sunrise.
  • Watch a sunset.
  • Practice gratitude.
  • Connect with people who make you feel safe and seen.

None of these things are revolutionary.

But maybe thatโ€™s the point.

Sometimes healing isnโ€™t found in adding another supplement.

Sometimes itโ€™s found in adding another conversation.

Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.

Anne Lamont

Your Most Important Appointment

One idea I loved from another podcast was the concept of holding regular wellness meetings with yourself.

Not a performance review. Not a guilt session.

A wellness meeting.

Three times a week, ask yourself this:

What do I need today?

Maybe itโ€™s a walk.

Maybe itโ€™s strength training.

Maybe itโ€™s sitting outside with your morning tea and watching the sunrise.

The goal isnโ€™t perfection.

The goal is paying attention before your body starts communicating through burnout, brain fog, anxiety, or exhaustion.

My ultimate goal isnโ€™t to control every hormone. Itโ€™s to stop being blindsided by them.

Because hormones may be fickle.

But theyโ€™re also messengers.

And sometimes theyโ€™re simply asking us to listen.

The greatest wealth is health.

Virgil

This is the first post in a hormone series. Next week weโ€™ll look at hormone disruptors: where the biggest offenders are hiding, and what to use instead.

Healing from Burnout: Lessons from Forest Therapy

A forest therapy reflection on burnout, surrender, and learning to live gently inside your own life.

There was a period of time where my nervous system was running entirely on stress and outrage. I was carrying so much tension I could feel it humming beneath my skin. I wore it like an armour.

I was teaching piano almost full time.
Helping my children survive school systems that did not know how to support kids with ADHD.
Trying to advocate for a child who had endured years of bullying only to be treated like he was the problem once he finally reacted.

There were meetings. Emails. Phone calls. Policies. Assessments. Endless explanations.

And somewhere in there, I was also managing a farm, a household, meal planning, grocery shopping, appointments, chronic pain, surgeries, inflammation, and a body that kept submitting maintenance requests I could no longer ignore. Sound familiar?

Outer chaos eventually becomes inner weather.

Then there was the car.

Oh, the car.

Marketed as โ€œoff-road capable,โ€ apparently as long as your idea of off-roading was driving over a decorative gravel patch at a golf resort once annually.

When our Saskatchewan roads started dismantling it piece by piece, we were informed it wasnโ€™t actually built for daily gravel roads. Then every winter the same part broke because it apparently also wasnโ€™t designed forโ€ฆ winter?

I remember thinking, Well neither am I, but you donโ€™t see me breaking down.

(foreshadowing ๐Ÿ˜ณ)

This felt a little too intentional of a design flaw for something sold in Saskatchewan.

At the time, I was angry at everything.

The educational system.
The medical system.
The government.
Corporations.
World events.
Every injustice.
Every failure.
Every person who made life harder than it needed to be.

And underneath all of it was one desperate belief:

If I fight hard enough, maybe I can force the world to become safe.

So I fought.

And every phone call tightened my muscles more.
Every conflict wound my nervous system tighter.
Every injustice became another brick in the emotional dam I was trying to hold together.

Even now, writing about it, I can feel traces of that tension in my body.

My nerves were tight.
My jaw was tight.
My shoulders were tight.
My thoughts were tight.

My energy felt dark and electric and sharp. Warnings were everywhere:

Do Not Touch: Load Bearing Delusions Ahead.

Eventually, the dam broke.

Not in some poetic, graceful collapse.
More like a nervous system mutiny. Everything in my body was operating like an emergency broadcast system.

Everything I had stuffed down flooded upward at once:
bad information, bad coping, bad core beliefs, fear, grief, anger, exhaustion.

It was physically excruciating. I’d been on my last straw for like 300 straws, and finally I ran out of straws.

After the initial effects subsided, I remember lying in bed unable to function. A puddle of a human being. All the fight inside me still existed but now it lived in a body that couldnโ€™t move and a brain that couldnโ€™t think.

I didnโ€™t know it at the time but this would become my new beginning.

You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.

-C S Lewis


Echoes of Stillness in the Forest

Nature welcomes us before we are healed.

John Burroughs

One of the greatest gifts forest therapy gave me was this:

Nature does not spend its energy resisting its own seasons.

The forest does not panic because decay exists beside growth.

Yet so many women live as though rest is failure.

We push through pain.
Push through exhaustion.
Push through grief.
Push through our intuition.
Push through limits our bodies are desperately trying to communicate.

We fight every battle. Carry every burden. Solve every crisis.

And then we wonder why we are chronically exhausted, inflamed, anxious, disconnected, and burned out.

I see it everywhere.

Women who are always tired.
Always hurting.
Always โ€œfine.โ€
Always one more obligation away from collapse.

Forest therapy taught me something radical.

Stillness is not laziness.
Stillness is regulation.

Outer stillness creates the conditions for inner calm.

Not because the world becomes peaceful.
But because you stop feeding every storm.


A Forest Therapy Practice: The Sit Spot

One of the simplest and most powerful forest therapy practices is called a sit spot.

You choose one place outdoors and return to it regularly.

Thatโ€™s it.

No performance.
No hiking goals.
No fitness tracker congratulating you for elevated heart rates.
No optimizing your experience into a competitive sport.

Your only job is to sit and notice.

(The chickadees remain unimpressed by productivity culture)

How To Practice

Find a place outdoors where you feel safe and comfortable.

A forest trail.
A park bench.
A tree in your yard.

Then:

  • Sit quietly for 10โ€“20 minutes.
  • Notice what moves and what remains still.
  • Listen farther away than you normally do.
  • Feel where your body touches the earth or chair.
  • Allow your nervous system to settle before asking anything of yourself.

You do not need to โ€œachieveโ€ calm.

The forest does not demand that from you.

It simply offers regulation through rhythm, repetition, sensory softness, and presence.

Over time, your body begins remembering something it forgot. It does not have to remain in survival mode forever.


From Fighting Everything To Tending Something

It has taken me years to pare down my list of fights to zero.

Not because I stopped caring.

But because I realized anger was consuming the very life I was trying to protect.

Now, instead of fighting constantly, I create spaces of calm.

I meditate.
I practice energy work.
I use affirmations.
I spend time in the forest like it is medicine because for me, it is.

Despite the chaos that can still exist around me, I guard my energy carefully.

From this space, I choose where I can genuinely be of service.

I try to listen when my body whispers instead of waiting until it screams through symptoms.
I create rituals that bring me back to myself when I wander too far into fear or overwhelm.
I practice gratitude daily because gratitude softens the nervous systemโ€™s constant scanning for danger.

And when concerns arise, I do my best to voice them clearly and compassionately.

Then I let them go.

Not because they do not matter.
But because I matter too.


There Is Possibility Everywhere

Norman Vincent Peale once said:

Become a possibilitarian. No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see possibilities. Always see them, for theyโ€™re always there.

Forest therapy helped me understand this deeply.

Possibility exists everywhere in nature.

A burned forest regenerates.
A fallen tree becomes nourishment.
A cracked open pinecone releases seeds.
Life keeps finding ways forward.

And humans can too.

Not always by forcing harder.
Sometimes by softening enough to notice another path entirely.


What Makes A Good Life

Thereโ€™s a quote from Donald Miller that has stayed with me for years. In it, he imagines sitting with God under a tree outside heaven, remembering the story of his life together.

And what moves me most is this idea:

That God would have favourite parts of our story.

Not just the successful moments.
But the moments we grew.
The moments we softened.
The moments we overcame.
The moments we kept loving despite pain.

The moments we learned how to become fully human.

To me, this is what a good life looks like.

Not a perfectly optimized one.
Not one where we won every fight.
Not one where we proved ourselves endlessly useful.

But one we could sit down and talk about with tenderness.

A life where our soul is no longer thirsty.

A meaningful life is not built through perfection but presence.

John Oโ€™Donohue


Turning Pain Toward Purpose

People tell me itโ€™s wonderful that Iโ€™ve turned my pain into something useful or helpful. And I appreciate the kindness in that.

But honestly, sometimes purpose looks less glamorous than people imagine.

Sometimes itโ€™s simply this:

If you do it wrong, you know how to tell somebody else what to avoid. If I walk into an invisible wall, I’m going to let others know about it. This wall is invisible and solid!

If I can help someone avoid walking into walls or burning themselves to the ground trying to hold up the entire world, then my pain served a purpose.

If I can help another woman understand that rest is not weaknessโ€ฆ
that stillness is healingโ€ฆ
that her nervous system deserves gentlenessโ€ฆ
that she is allowed to stop fighting every battleโ€ฆ

Then maybe this story matters.


An Invitation To The Forest

So if you are exhaustedโ€ฆ

If your body hurts all the timeโ€ฆ
If your mind never stops spinningโ€ฆ
If your nervous system is tight as a fence wire in January…

Come to the forest.

Not to fix yourself.
Not to become more productive.

Just come back to being human.

The forest remembers how.

And slowly, patiently, you may remember too.