05/02/2026
The part I never shared 🤍
I’ve been sitting with whether to share this for a while.
When Muse closed, I let the story be about business — rising costs, staffing, the usual things. And while those struggles were very real, they weren’t the whole truth.
The truth is, I was struggling in ways I didn’t yet have language for.
I was deep in perimenopause — exhausted, overwhelmed, emotionally fragile — trying to run a very demanding, people-facing business while barely holding myself together. Most days, just showing up felt enormous.
Somewhere along the way, women were taught to minimise ourselves.
To push through.
To keep performing — even when our bodies and minds are screaming for rest.
Perimenopause isn’t just hot flushes or bad sleep. For many women, it’s also anxiety, brain fog, emotional overload, loss of confidence, and bone deep exhaustion — all while still being expected to work, care for everyone else, lead, and smile.
Closing wasn’t easy — it was choosing survival when my capacity quietly disappeared.
Muse wasn’t just a business to me. It was my heart and soul.
One of the hardest parts of that decision was feeling like I let people down.
I’m sharing this now because I know I’m not the only woman who has tried to push through something unseen and paid the price. I hadn't even heard of perimenopause and now I know I'm not the only woman navigating her way through the very real struggles of this season of our lives.
Silence helps no one, so if this conversation can help make even one woman feel less alone, then for me, that is enough.
I know things look a little different at Muse since we reopened. For a long time, I thought strength meant pushing through. I see now that strength can also look like redesigning your life — and your work — around what you actually have to give. And allowing other women to do the same, without judgement.
Community doesn’t disappear just because things change.
Sometimes it just waits for honesty.
If you drifted away, I understand.
If you stayed quietly supportive, thank you.
And if you’re navigating your own invisible season — I see you. 🤍
