I Resign as Everyone’s Everything
A Memo from the Menopausal Queen Bee
MEMORANDUM
To: All Members of the Hive
From: Her Majesty, the Menopausal Queen
Subject: Changes To My Signal, Duties, and General Availability
Dear Hive,
After several decades of reproductive service, relational maintenance, and being held responsible for the general atmosphere of the colony, I am resigning from the position of Everyone’s Everything.
You may be surprised. The hive has run smoothly because I spent years crawling through its chambers, detecting disturbances before they reached anyone else, filling empty cells, tending to the emotional larvae, and releasing a steady signal that assured everyone all was well.
All was not always well. I was simply very good at my job.
I am not flying off to another colony or starting a small-batch honey business. I am stepping down from a role that was never formally discussed, yet somehow came to include knowing what the hive needed, who had not been fed, which relationships were strained, why the western comb felt tense, and whether the honey stores would last through the winter.
When something was misplaced, I was summoned. When two bees fought, I mediated. When the colony felt unsettled, every head turned toward me.
I accepted all of it because I loved you, the work mattered, and I had the capacity to do it. Unfortunately, I made it look easy, and everyone assumed the supply was endless.
It was not.
On the Subject of Noise
I would now like to discuss the volume at which this hive operates.
Several thousand bees. Several thousand wings. Every corridor hums, day and night, at a frequency that was music to my ears. I no longer find it tolerable. It makes me want to fly into the nearest flower and stay there.
The drone of colony life now sounds like someone left a motor running inside my skull and lost the key. When you add the sound of requests, “Where is the honey?” “Has anyone seen my pollen basket?” “Are you coming to the comb meeting?” I am one more “I can’t find the…” away from sealing myself inside a wax cell and refusing to emerge until spring.
I am not proposing a vow of silence. I am proposing that before you approach the Queen with a question, you ask yourself whether the answer might exist elsewhere. Check the honey stores. Consult another bee. Sit with the discomfort of not knowing for approximately ninety seconds.
If the matter still requires my attention, approach quietly. Speak briefly. Do not begin your sentence with “I can’t find the…”
I cannot find anything either. My patience is in another decade, and my waistline seems to have disappeared altogether.
Closure of the Reproductive Department
The Reproductive Division is now permanently closed.
There will be no further eggs. The nursery will not be expanding. I will no longer spend my days examining empty cells and wondering when someone will demand I fill them with another future citizen.
My reserves have been depleted, my estrogen has left the building, and the production line has shut down.
This does not constitute a vacancy.
I am aware that several members of the hive have already begun mentally redecorating the nursery as a guest suite for visiting in-laws. Please stop.
I have heard several members of the hive say, “But the larvae are grown now. What will she do with herself?”
I assure you, I will think of something. I have not yet decided what, as I have been too busy doing everything for everyone else to determine what I might enjoy. I understand this is a novel concept. I will keep you posted.
The belief that a female who is no longer reproducing should devote the remainder of her existence to making herself useful to those who are still reproducing has been forwarded to the Inter-generational Labor Committee for review.
Yes, I love the younger bees.
No, I do not wish to run their lives.
Changes to the Royal Thermostat
You may have noticed sudden and dramatic fluctuations in the temperature surrounding my person.
These are not fires, threats from neighboring colonies, or signs that the hive is about to collapse. They are hot flashes.
When one occurs, I may remove several layers of royal attire, stand at the entrance with my wings extended, and threaten anyone who comes within three feet of me. This is a thermoregulatory response and should not be interpreted as hostility.
When you observe the Queen radiating enough heat to melt wax, do not say, “It isn’t warm in here.”
Fan.
Do not touch the thermostat after I have lowered it.
Do not close the window.
Do not place your warm body against mine and ask whether I would like to cuddle.
I would not.
This may change in approximately seven minutes, at which point I may become inexplicably cold. Keep a blanket nearby, but do not place it on me without authorization. Sudden movements around a thermally unstable Queen are undertaken entirely at your own risk.
Night Operations
The hive will no longer offer full service during the hours between midnight and dawn.
Although I am frequently awake at 3:17 a.m., this should not be mistaken for availability. I am not using this time to reflect productively, reorganize the colony, or consider what we should have for dinner tomorrow. I am lying in the dark with one leg outside the covers, wondering how I can be awake once again when I am so utterly exhausted.
Requests made during these hours will not be processed.
Should you encounter me wandering through the hive looking for the glasses that are currently on my head, please do not ask whether I am all right. The answer is complicated, and neither of us has the emotional bandwidth.
Sleep disruption has also resulted in revised expectations concerning my demeanor the following morning. Anyone who says, “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the honeycomb,” will be escorted to the entrance.
Changes to the Royal Signal
My signal has changed. I am telling you directly, in case you had not noticed.
I spoke with Octavia in the hive across the way. When her Queen’s chemistry shifted, the bees adapted. They detected the new frequency and adjusted.
They did not insist that she smell as she did twenty years earlier.
They did not gather around her demanding to know what happened to the sweet young Queen they first met.
They did not suggest she seemed irritable lately or ask whether she had considered gratitude journaling.
They received the information.
This hive has not.
You keep bringing me the same requests, approach me the same way, and expect the same answers. When I respond differently, you look startled, as though the familiar Queen has been replaced overnight by an unusually articulate hornet.
I have not been replaced. I have changed.
Please stop trying to restore the previous signal. She served the hive faithfully. She adapted, accommodated, reproduced, reassured, and made extraordinary use of very little sleep. She deserves our gratitude.
She will not be returning to active duty.
Revised Policy Concerning Royal Intimacy
The Royal Chamber remains open. It is now operating by appointment rather than historical entitlement.
Previous access does not guarantee immediate re-entry. The combination has changed. The lighting is different. The facilities may require additional preparation.
This is not evidence that attraction has disappeared. Menopause can affect sleep, desire, and physical comfort. It can make intimacy feel inviting, indifferent, or roughly as appealing as being trapped inside a beekeeper’s glove.
Please do not arrive at the Royal Chamber with the same approach you have used since the late nineties and act bewildered when the doors fail to open.
Curiosity is encouraged.
Conversation is desired.
Emotional intimacy is foreplay.
Lubrication is not an admission of defeat.
I would also remind all interested parties that desire has difficulty flourishing in an environment where the Queen has spent the day solving everyone else’s problems, while someone asks from the couch whether there is any honey left.
The chamber has not closed.
The terms of entry have matured.
What This Change Means
I recognize this may be unsettling. You knew where to find me before: in the middle of everything, solving, soothing, and remembering. Stepping out of that disturbs the arrangement. It disturbs me too.
I do not yet know who I am when I am not everyone’s answer. I am figuring that out at 3:17 a.m., one leg outside the covers.
This memo is to inform the hive that this transition has already occurred and cannot be reversed. The Queen you knew has left the hive. The new version still loves you. She is still part of everything we built. She simply cannot be reached through the same channels as before.
And to the younger females: pay attention.
You can wear the crown without carrying the weight of the hive beneath it. There is a whole life available to you beyond being useful: work that excites you, pleasure that belongs to you, time that is not spoken for, and dreams that do not have to wait until everyone else is settled.
Let the crown mean authority over your own life. Follow what interests you. Take up space. Change your mind. Leave the hive from time to time simply because the flowers are blooming and you want to see them. Your life does not begin after everyone else has stopped needing you. It is happening now.
Keep something that is yours alone. A dream, a purpose, a corner of the day no one else can claim. The hive will not collapse because you are not at its center every minute. It may grow stronger when everyone learns to carry their share, and you are free to bring something back besides exhaustion.
Do not wait until midlife to discover that you were allowed to want more. Build a life that has room for love and room for you. Let the people who love you know the woman beneath the role, so that when your signal changes, they will not have to search the hive for the person they thought you were.
I wish an older Queen had told me that.
I am telling you now.
Let the hive be part of your life, not the whole of it. Keep following what calls you beyond its walls, and never confuse being needed with being fully alive.
With love,
The Queen
My book When Everything Changes offers a fuller exploration of the collision of body, life, and identity that so often defines midlife.
I appreciate the outlook and your sense of humor! I'm figuring out the woman I'm becoming in the process. 😀 Buzzing out!
Brilliant!x