It was pitch dark. Alone in the wilderness, I lay in a teepee, gripped with fear as I listened to the rumblings outside. I was 2,000 miles from home at the Angel Valley Retreat in Sedona, Arizona—alone, facing the unknown. As an OB/GYN physician, I was accustomed to guiding women through their most vulnerable moments. Yet here, without a single patient or friend in sight, fear was my only companion.
The truth was, I hadn’t told my husband where I really was. I said I’d checked into a timeshare, but the pull to escape to this isolated retreat was too strong. I needed to make sense of a yearning that had been brewing for years. I was 38, at the height of my career, yet I was aching for something I couldn’t name.
Infertility had left scars. The adoption process was no easier. Despite my work, my success, and my family, something in me was urging me forward. It was as if life was asking me, “Are you ready to graduate to what’s next?” When I arrived at the retreat, Michael, the guide, offered a warm welcome and a tour. He noted that I could sleep in the dorms if the teepee felt too intense, but that the solitude would help me find the clarity I sought. His parting words, though, left me unsettled: “Watch out for rattlesnakes, wild pigs…and scorpions.”
Days passed, spent in solitude, prayer, and immersion in nature. I baptized myself in the cold creek, walked the labyrinths, and searched for these so-called “vortexes.” And breakthroughs came, one after another. Yet, despite it all, I had a lingering fear of the scorpion.
Then, one morning, I reached for my socks—and there she was. My heart didn’t race, and I felt no fear. Instead, I calmly escorted her outside, thanking her. I knew she wasn’t there by accident. I went to the front desk, sharing my experience with the wise woman working there. She listened thoughtfully and then said, “You’re not finished. Go to the library, find the book Animal Speak, and read what the scorpion’s message is.”
I found the book, turned to “scorpion,” and read: The scorpion promises transformation. My mind was blown. I understood then: all I needed to do was trust and pay attention.
I returned home changed, unaware that this experience foreshadowed my next transformation: perimenopause. This phase brought anxiety, insomnia, brain fog, and even a few homicidal daydreams. My hormones had their own agenda, turning my life upside down. At 45, my periods disappeared entirely. And I, an OB/GYN, found myself clueless about perimenopause. How was it that I hadn’t learned that symptoms could precede menopause by up to ten years?
It was a time of messy transformation. I became disenchanted with my work, feeling pulled to a new purpose. I took a leap and began studying integrative and functional medicine. Then, on faith, I left a twenty-year career in high-risk obstetrics to open a wellness center. I was determined to change my approach to women’s health, to offer the support that I, and so many others, needed. This journey eventually led me to write my book, The Menopause Myth: What Your Mother, Doctor, and Friends Never Shared with You About Life After 35.
Perimenopause was tumultuous, to say the least. But I’ve come to see it as a powerful rite of passage. As we age and our estrogen falls, our minds rewire. We begin to see life differently, shedding our people-pleasing tendencies to finally become the women we’re meant to be. I’ve witnessed transformations in the women I coach—whether it’s leaving a toxic marriage, leaving a career, or simply choosing to live on their own terms.
It’s been twenty years since I met the scorpion, yet the transformations keep coming. And yes, they’re messy, painful even. But I believe that transformation is essential if we’re to graduate to our highest selves.
To graduate is to pass from one stage to another. And that requires release—letting go of what no longer serves us and embracing the unknown. Release can be terrifying, but it is also the gateway to infinite possibilities. Only by releasing can we truly graduate.
So, I invite you to reflect: What are you ready to release? More importantly, what are you here to embrace?
The truth about this transition is that it’s not just about hormones. It’s about evolution. We’re invited to crack open the unknown and savor what we find within. Don’t be afraid of what’s inside—unless, of course, you’re contemplating murder. (Don’t worry, my husband’s still alive, and we’re still married after 25 years.)
Don’t fear the scorpion. She’s your reminder, your permission, and she promises transformation.