Perimenopause or a Challenging Life? Sometimes It’s Hard to Know

Posted on July 29, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

Is it my hormones changing or is life simply challenging? Seriously. I’m tired of the narrative that everything is perimenopause, or even menopause. Yes, a lot of women are struggling with the reality of perimenopause and menopause. I am far from dismissing that. I mean shoot, I’m one of them. The brain fog is real. And brain fog is an understatement. I forgot my son’s best friend’s name the other day. A kid I’ve known since second grade.

Hello perimenopause symptoms! And the song lyrics, “Cause you’re hot then you’re cold / You’re ‘Yes’ then you’re ‘No’” Well Katy Perry wrote my theme song. And probably millions of other women my age. And while it is great that perimenopause is finally having its time in the spotlight and women are getting the support we need, I hate to say it, but it is being used as a crutch in places. A place to put blame. A way to dismiss reality, real feelings.

An easy out for a woman who is truly struggling because her life is actually, truly DIFFICULT. One professional, “Oh it’s *just* perimenopause. You’re simply extra emotional.” And what if it isn’t? What if sometimes life is just hard because, wait for it…it just is?

And the hormones are making it worse but aren’t the culprit? This is a question and a debate I’ve had with my therapist and my doctor for a while now. I got on the computer for my virtual doctor’s appointment last week and got right to the point. “Listen. I know I’m in perimenopause. I know my changing hormones aren’t helping AND ALSO… I feel like I’m going to cry every afternoon. I have more panic attacks than I ever have.

My exhaustion and sense of overwhelm some days is new, next level. And I don’t think it is just because of the hormones. My life is simply hard. Harder than it has been in a long time. The hormones aren’t helping.” And then I do what I do. I spoke in metaphors;) “Picture an ice cream sundae.” She smiled at this one. “My life is a five scoop ice cream sundae. It’s being eaten outside on a 90 degree day. I’m one scoop, each kid is a scoop I’m taking care of. We are already naturally melting from the heat of life. The hot fudge is perimenopause. It’s simply expediting the meltdown.”

I continued. “Point being. I’m melting. Something needs to change. My medication isn’t fully working anymore and hormones? Sure, adding them might help, but it isn’t the full solution because perimenopause isn’t the only problem.”

My doctor looked at me. And simply said, “I get it. It’s all too much. Just too much. Here’s the plan. We’re adding this medication. Take it in case of emergency. When the sense of overwhelm hits hard. You might need it, you might not. The season you are in is temporary.”

I said thank you. Closed the computer and sighed a sigh of relief. It has taken me months to admit I needed to change medication. I just keep telling myself, strike that, blaming myself. Blaming myself for not managing well enough. For not handling the stress well enough.

“Just try harder. Take more deep breaths. Exercise more. Rest more. Laugh more.” Yada. Yada. Yada. Yes. All those things might and will help AND ALSO, my life is heavy right now. It is wonderful and I am grateful AND it is heavy and challenging. There comes a point where part of the solution is asking, what other kind of support do I need? The medicine she added, my addition to my bag of tricks for supporting myself during this season?

The last time it was in my repertoire was 2016 when my divorce began. When I had days I couldn’t breathe. When it all felt “just too much,” as she said. I got through those days. It’s 10 years later. I never thought I would need that medication again.

But life happens. Gray happens. It isn’t a reflection of me, of my lack of ability to manage stress or the challenges that come my way. It is just a reflection of the reality I’m living right now. Life can be very hard. And sometimes people hold that very close to their chest because they have no choice but to do so. That just makes it heavier, doesn’t it?

Perimenopause doesn’t pause any of that from happening. It just makes it worse.

But what truly makes it all worse is using perimenopause as a scapegoat for real, heavy emotional feelings people are experiencing. Gray happens.

And it can hit hard and heavy. Admitting it, acknowledging it? Not a scapegoat. Figuring out support isn’t a scapegoat either. These are all the ways orange begins to make the gray lighter.

Sending my warmth to you today, especially if any part of this post resonated a little too close. Trust me, it isn’t just you and me feeling this way.

xoxo, Sheila
🧡 The Orange Rhino

ADHD and Perimenopause: Why Women Deserve to Be Believed

Posted on March 15, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

Nothing says “support women” quite like questioning their diagnosis. We tell women to advocate for their health and then question the answer when they finally get one. I’m grateful there’s more conversation happening around perimenopause and women’s health. It is needed and it matters.

But there’s something about the conversation that has really been getting under my skin. Here’s the tricky thing: A lot of perimenopause symptoms can overlap with ADHD symptoms at first glance. And because of that, I keep seeing comments and videos — from other women, mind you — basically questioning whether women diagnosed with ADHD later in life really have it… or whether they’re “just perimenopausal.” And wow, does that get under my skin.

Because yes, some of us really do have ADHD. And yes, some of us are also in perimenopause. And yes, perimenopause can make ADHD even harder to manage. Those things can all be true at once. What frustrates me is this: We constantly tell women to trust themselves. To listen to their bodies. To advocate for their health. To keep pushing until they get answers because they know their bodies best.

But then when a woman finally does get an answer — and knows it’s right, feels the relief, finally exhales — people turn around and question whether it’s real. No thank you. That doesn’t feel like support. That feels like more dismissal. My ADHD signs were there long before perimenopause.

They were there in elementary school. “Sheila, raise your hand.” “Sheila, stop talking.”

They were there in how overwhelmed I got. “Sheila… she’s the emotional one.”

They were there in how hard I worked to stay organized. Binders were — and still are — my best friend.

They were there in the way I needed systems, structure, lists, and detail just to keep my brain from feeling all over the place. I’ll never forget the to-do list and Excel spreadsheet I made for my wedding. It was a masterpiece. My ex’s friend looked at it. Looked at me. Looked at it again.“Sheila… this is a bit intense, don’t ya think?” Oh, it was. But I needed every detail captured and tied to a time or I would have been lost. Side note: the marriage didn’t last, but the wedding was indeed phenomenal. So many wonderfully executed details. Thank you, ADHD creativity and hyperfocus.

So no, I wasn’t “suddenly ADHD” because I hit my 40s. I was a girl who learned how to compensate. A girl who tried really hard. A girl who looked capable from the outside while working overtime on the inside. A girl, then a college student, then a mom, who was absolutely exhausted.

And I know I’m not the only one. So yes…women should absolutely keep talking about perimenopause. And also about how it impacts ADHD women. And while we’re at it, let’s also stop acting like late-diagnosed ADHD in women is some suspicious trend people are latching on to. It isn’t. Trust me. There are upsides to ADHD and also, some real, not so popular, challenges. The diagnosis didn’t come out of nowhere. It just took a while — too long, really — to receive it.

And gosh, is it a relief to have. To finally understand myself better; to realize I’m not broken. And again, to know I’m not the only one. On that note, I’m going to take my medication, make a list for the day, then talk to myself to help keep me on task and remembering what I’m doing. Oh the things we learn!

Sending my warmth and a little oomph to you all today,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

ADHD, Forgotten Dry Cleaning and the Humbling Reality of Everyday Life

Posted on March 12, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

I was so proud. And oh so quickly humbled. Please tell me someone out there has the same story?! Y’all… the dry cleaning in this picture? Take a guess at the date on the ticket. Go on. If you’re guessing January 2026… Nope. December 2025? Not even close. September 2025. SEPTEMBER. What even is that?!

And the wild part is…I was so proud of myself yesterday. First, I actually did my laundry like a functioning adult: put it in the washer, moved it to the dryer on time, and even took it out within a reasonable amount of time.

Honestly? I felt unstoppable. Then I thought, “Oh! The dry cleaner is on the way to the dentist. I can drop off my winter sweaters and pick up my pink button-down for spring.” Planning ahead. Following through. Managing life. Who was this girl?! The day before, I had even gotten myself to a doctor’s appointment on time by setting a timer, getting up when it went off, and staying on task all the way to the car. Again, who is this girl?!

I was so proud of myself. So pumped up. What the what?! I mean… is this what 48 is? Being genuinely excited that you followed through on basic tasks? Being genuinely excited that you’re finally figuring out how to manage ADHD while perimenopause is totally trying to make everything harder? Because if so… wow.

This is…humbling. Also maybe a sign to put “plan actual fun” on the calendar immediately. (Pause. Doing that now. You know, so I don’t forget.) I’m back.

So, yesterday I was feeling good. Proud. On a roll. I got to the dry cleaners. Got out of the car. Walked inside. And then… Guess what I did not have with me? The sweaters. Thankfully they were still in the car, so fine. Minor embarrassment. No crisis.

But then I asked for my pink shirt… …and she came back with the shirt and four other items. FOUR. From SEPTEMBER. This, my friends, is exactly why I do not do dry cleaning. I either lose the ticket… or forget the clothes exist entirely.

So yes, “pick up dry cleaning” now officially just got added as another task in Google Calendar. Oh Google Calendar task list… I’d be lost without you. Who am I kidding?

Still a little lost over here. But definitely less lost with you. Please tell me your version of this so I can feel less alone. I’m going to be kind and drop a few more in the comments so we all feel less alone. (As I drink my cold coffee. Not iced. Cold.) Sending my warmth and a little oomph to you today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

When Your College Kid Comes Home and the Transition Is Hard for Everyone

Posted on March 10, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

I knew it would happen. And it did. Sometimes I hate being right. As much fun as I had picking up my college kiddo from the airport and having dinner together that night, I want to share another truth. Having him home was hard. For both of us. He (mostly) likes college better. He has friends there. No “quiet hours.” No expectations from me—directly at least;) Here, well… We all had school or work the next day so he had to be uber quiet at night.

And since the renovation, I’ve been slowly putting everything away. So he came home to a house where he suddenly didn’t know where any of the important stuff was. Phone chargers. Pens, pencils. Silverware. It was frustrating for him—to feel out of place. Literally and metaphorically. And honestly? It hurt a little for me too. I also wished he felt more at ease here, at home. Like he used to. You know, in the “before college” days. (Shite, those wet things on my face again.) It’s a strange feeling when your child comes home… and home to them feels different…and you know things are just no longer the same. Not bad, just changed.

Still, there were warm moments. We watched a new cooking show together. The next night, at his request, I made the meal from it and we both loved it. (Street tacos. O.M.G. Amazing recipe. This never would have happened before college, so there’s one, okay of many, upsides.) I introduced him to my mocktail, which he loved. We walked the dog together. It wasn’t all hard. By Saturday he was finally settling in… just in time for him to spend his last day home working on a school paper.

And that’s when the disappointment in myself started to creep in. I knew when I dropped him back at college the next day, I’d be bummed that I hadn’t been as present during his time home as I wanted to be. That I’d be bummed that I’d been frustrated when he’d been frustrated. I was also bummed that our time together was so short to begin with. He spent half the week in Florida with his dad (as he should) and his new friends.

At the same time, I was so happy he went on a trip with them, had a blast, and found a new level of confidence. Enough confidence to go skydiving. And yes, that was a long half hour waiting for the phone call that he was fine lol.

I know this is the new spring break normal. Trips with friends. I think this is one of the quieter heartbreaks of parenting older kids. They either come home on breaks, but not quite in the same way.Or they choose friends. Either way, you’re grateful they’re growing, gosh you are so grateful, and you’re happy they’re healthy and happy…but you’re also missing what was. Just because I know this doesn’t make it easier though. Likewise, I know this summer, when he transitions home again, it’ll be bumpy at first. That doesn’t make it easier either. Knowing does help me plan ahead though. Not worry… just create some workarounds to ease the easing back into home.

Yesterday morning, I made him pancakes and bacon one more time. Then I drove him back to his second home. It wasn’t even a few minutes into my drive back home before I got this text: “I love you mom. I already miss you. I had a great time watching the cooking show with you. I love you so much and you’re a great mom.” Exactly the dose of orange I needed to make it home without bawling my eyes out. LOL. I pulled in the driveway and another message from him popped up.

It’s in the comments (assuming I can figure out how to share it haha) Cue the tears. Oh life… you sure are full of grorange. Parents of older kids… did this stage catch you off guard too?

Sending my warmth and a little oomph to you all today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Why We Say “I’m Fine” When We’re Absolutely Not

Posted on February 27, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

Do you ever pretend you’re fine… when you’re absolutely not? (Rhetorical question) I have a serious case of the “I’m fine’s” right now. You know the ones: “I’m fine, really.” “It’s no big deal.” “I’m good. It’s all good.” (Andy Grammer may be good. But if I’m being honest with myself, honey I’m not good) Why is it so hard to just say: “Yeah… today sucked.” “I know I’ll be okay, but right now? This stinks.” “I’m frustrated. I thought I’d feel better by now.” Like seriously, why can’t I just be totally honest with others more often?

When my best friend called the other night and said, “Sheil!!! Why didn’t you tell me you were having another procedure?” My answer? “I didn’t want to be a burden.” Oof.

Here’s the truth: I’ve been told before that I’m “too much.” That I’m “seeking attention.” That I “just want to be sick.” So somewhere along the way, I taught myself: Keep it in. Say you’re fine. Don’t inconvenience anyone. Even though I know I can trust my real friends… Even though I know I can share my shite sandwiches… I still struggle. I’m re-teaching my brain that I can share the hard stuff. That I can be “not fine” and also know “I will be fine” at the same time.

Practice is exhausting. But it’s working. Every day I accept the gray a little more and still create orange anyway. Every day I practice being real with myself. Some days go better than others.

But most days? I feel lighter. I want us all to feel that way today. I want to try something. If this applies to you, drop one honest “not fine” truth in the comments. Just one. And let’s reply to each other with actual support. No fixing. No minimizing. Just: “I see you” or some other loving message.” I have a feeling a lot of us are carrying something quietly. Let’s all feel a little bit better today, together.

Sending my warmth to all of you, especially those who aren’t feeling fine and also (understandably) don’t feel comfortable yet sharing with others. I see you. I get it.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

What The Orange Rhino Is Really About: Love, Honesty and Belonging

Posted on February 8, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

This page has always been about one thing: love. How we give it, how we receive it, and how we learn to offer more of it to ourselves—especially when life feels heavy. As this community has grown, I’ve realized it’s time to be even clearer about who I am, what this space is for, and why it matters to me. From the beginning, this community has been built on supporting one another in a common goal – to yell less. We all wanted to yell less because we wanted to show our love more.

Our love for our children, our love for ourselves. We wanted to yell less because we wanted to love how we experienced life more; to go to bed with less guilt, with less disappointment, with less sadness, with less grief.

When this page grew and grew exponentially it was because of a shared goal that united everyone, regardless of race, religion, identity, you name it.

We were all focused on loving more.
On kindness.
On doing better.
On learning about ourselves, our children.
On teaching ourselves, our children.

We were all supportive of one another. Someone had a bad day, someone else left a comment showing they believed in them. Since I’ve returned to posting, the same common goal of loving more has remained, but with a tweak and some expansion.

The focus is definitely more about loving ourselves more, all parts of who we are (not just as people wanting to yell less) so we can create lives we love even more. In doing so, I write about a lot more than parenting. Parenting is a piece of my life, an important one.

But I am also a partner, a friend, a neighbor, a human. All these parts matter if I want to live a life that I love. I saw The Holderness Family (always so funny) make a post re-introducing themselves recently. And HR Mom (always so inspiring) made a post about who she is first and foremost. Whitney Fleming Writes (always so eloquent) shared a post about what she doesn’t fake outrage about. Dontcrossagayman (always just knows how to deliver and teach a needed message) shared a video about, well, all of the above.

I am inspired to follow these pages’ lead so that people can decide whether this space feels right for them. I feel weird writing that, if I’m going to be honest.

But, if I want to live a life that I love, if I want to go to bed feeling lighter, I need to be the most authentic version of myself. I strongly dislike coming on here and feeling like I am hiding parts of me. First and foremost I’m a mother, but I’m also a protector of this page. I want to ensure everyone here feels the same level of welcome, comfort, safety, connection and joy they felt when they first joined. I want to feel that sense of ease.

I want everyone on this page to come here and feel, “yes, I belong here. I don’t feel broken here. I feel seen. I can breathe.” I want this page to lift people up, to brighten their days so that getting through the inevitable gray of life is easier.

So, let me re-introduce myself, who I am first and foremost, and what I also won’t fake outrage about. Let me tell you a bit more about me.

1. I am an almost 48 year old perimenopausal woman with more wrinkles and skin cancer than I like. I’ve been divorced for 10 years and have been engaged for a lot longer than my fiancé would like because I’m so scarred by the divorce process.

I drink my coffee black because that is how I was introduced to it when I stayed with a family in Nicaragua. I no longer drink alcohol because alcoholism runs in my extended family and because I have health issues. Sparkling grapefruit juice with lime is my new favorite mocktail!

I have ADHD and I struggle with anxiety, depression, OCD, and sensory processing disorder. Some people say I’m a lot. I like to think I understand a lot about what it means to be misunderstood, not accepted and alone. It makes me a more loving person.

2. Since I was at least 8, I’ve been helping others, spreading kindness, trying to bring people together, ALL people. It. Is. Who. I. Am and how I was raised. It is how I hope to raise my sons. Speaking of which…

3. I am a mom to four neurodivergent sons. I have always said that I was given four sons for a reason: to ensure that I raise gentlemen who respect women so that I can make a difference in the way women are treated. It might only be 4 boys, but change starts somewhere.

Likewise, I’m making sure they understand how they deserve to be treated. Being a teen is hard. I’m also helping them learn how to safely stand up for those who aren’t treated well.

4. In high school, I made a list of lectures I thought our school should give. Sexual violence was one of them. Ensuring I raise sons who understand consent is a constant conversation. My disgust about the E-files is far from fake outrage.

5. My childhood pastor was lesbian. She was the absolute best. I have friends whose children are gay. I have friends whose children are trans. I have friends who are gay. I support and love them all.

6. Some of my best friends are Jewish. My fiancé is Jewish. My grandfather was Jewish but had to hide that aspect of himself:(I am Christian. I’ve been to Temple often and Church services too. We all want the same thing: to be the best, most loving humans we can be.

7. I traveled to numerous third world countries when I was younger. Those were some of the best experiences of my life. I learned so much from their cultures. I used to be fluent in Spanish. I still speak it when I can. I love connecting with people sharing moments of joy that cross languages. I love and appreciate other cultures.

8. I strongly dislike politics. I’ve always avoided talking about them because of the intensity. I value peace and connection. I believe in working together to find common ground and achieve common goals—and I believe both always exist, just not always easy to find or achieve. But I don’t give up. This was my strength as a leader when I worked.

I have friends who are Democrats and friends who are Republicans. I love and support them all. I believe listening doesn’t have to mean agreeing, and disagreement doesn’t have to mean disrespect. I listen to understand, because you can’t solve problems you don’t understand—and we can only grow if we’re willing to learn from one another.

9. In my darkest of times, let me tell you who helped me.
Democrats. Republicans.
People with white skin, black skin, brown skin.
Christian friends and non-Christian friends.
Straight strangers and non-straight strangers and friends.
People born in the United States, people not born here.
Neurotypical people and neurodiverse people.
I appreciate all of them, all. of. Them.

I would do the same, for all of them.

We are all humans trying to live lives full of love. It pains me deeply that not all humans are treated the same; that my friends, neighbors and those I respect are hurting.

10. I believe in treating others as I want to be treated. With respect. With kindness. With understanding. With grace. I look for the best in people. I celebrate people. I feel for people — I am an empath, through and through. These times hurt.

Oh, and I guess one more.

11. I am The Orange Rhino® created because I wanted more warmth, positive energy and determination in my life, especially when I felt like I wanted to charge or felt like I was getting knocked down. I’m dedicated to creating a space that brings people together while lifting them up, a space that cares for all people.

This is the heart behind The Orange Rhino®—real, human, rooted in love and kindness.

Sending my warmth to everyone, today and always. Period.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡The Orange Rhino

(This was an unplanned, just written post. Be gentle if there are errors and please message me privately if I wrote something wrong; not my intention. I’m still learning. If I don’t post, I won’t, but I want to. That’s #12 I guess. I am a sensitive, learning to not worry what other people think so much, always trying to make progress and not be perfect, human.)

What Teenage Boys Taught Me About Competition, Connection and Hope

Posted on February 7, 2026 by The Orange Rhino

Earlier this week, my son’s basketball team had a big win. But it had nothing to do with the score. It had everything to do with what happened after. They were playing a team from across town. The last time they faced each other, the game was tight—my son’s team won by just a few points. And at the end of that game, something unexpected happened. The teams came together. Laughing. Taking selfies. Teenage boys—competing hard, not knowing each other—connecting anyway.

It gave me so much hope. Fast forward to this week. This game was a blowout. My son’s team was on fire. So the coach did what good coaches do—he put in the kids who don’t usually get playing time. Eventually, the other coach did too.

And that alone said a lot. This coach is intense. I remember thinking during the first matchup, whoa—this guy wants to win at all costs.

But here we were. New kids on the court. Winning wasn’t the goal anymore. Experience was. My son is almost 6’2. One of his best friends is about 5’2—and because of that, he hasn’t gotten much playing time this season.

But this night? He was in. The players on the court worked to get him the ball. The players on the bench were on their feet, cheering—hoping he’d score his first basket of a quickly ending season. And let me tell you—this kid can shoot. Always has been able to. He started hitting shots. Then threes. Then foul shots. Thirteen points in two minutes. For real. The gym went absolutely insane.

When the buzzer sounded, his teammates rushed him and carried him off the court. And do you know who else rushed over? The other coach. And players from the other team. The coach even took a selfie with him. It. Was. Beautiful. And this wasn’t a one-off. Earlier in the week, my son’s team lost a blowout. Late in the game, another kid who rarely plays took a shot just as the buzzer sounded. SWOOSH. A three.

They lost the game—but no one cared. Their teammate had scored and made an incredible shot. No one talked about the loss, they talked about their teammate. And in yet another blowout loss, both coaches put the B teams in again. The A teams were on the benches, kinda. They weren’t obsessed with the score. They weren’t sulking on the bench. I saw teenage boys standing, cheering, screaming—for each other to have their moment.

My faith in humanity was restored a little this week. On a high school basketball court. And I’m holding onto these moments tighter than ever, especially this week.

Sending my warmth to go with your strength, today and always.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino