by Jill Angelo
images by Gillian Hunter Photography
Change was calling,
But not in the way you might think.
Three-and-a-half years ago I decided to take a sabbatical from Microsoft. I had been in the technology industry for twenty years, and my sabbatical award was sitting there like a trophy in a closet.
Like any hardworking corporate overachiever, I was striving for the sake of striving. I was showing how committed I was by foregoing the luxury of taking downtime to re-energize. And, not surprisingly, I felt depleted, uninspired, and disillusioned.
So, I did in fact claim my trophy. I did take my sabbatical. Not because I finally saw the light, but because I was “failing.” I received the worst manager scores of my career. The work group I was part of was going through a reorganization, and I was offered a “new role.” It was a demotion, plain and simple, no matter how my new manager tried to spin it.
The fact was I wasn’t knocking it out of the park. I wasn’t overachieving. I was working on a lot of things I did not care about. On a dark, rainy, emotional commute home, a dear friend had the courage to speak truth to me. She said, “Take your sabbatical, Jill. Don’t take the job they’re offering. Take some time and figure life out.”
So that’s what I did. I quite literally hit the work “pause” button. My husband and I packed up the car and drove south to the dry desert mountains of Utah. We breathed in the fresh smell of living. We took time to take care of our hearts, minds, and bodies with three months of rest, nature, and mindfulness. I was really present for the first time in a long time. And it felt great.
But, old patterns being what they are, I fell into the temptation of searching for my next corporate role. Fortunately, the unexpected happened. I got a call from a former manager. She recalled my passion for women’s health and said I needed to meet a woman with a brilliant business idea about serving a largely under served population: women in menopause.
Now that, I thought hanging up the phone, was unexpected. Unexpected, yet oh-so-intriguing.
Like most women and men on this planet, I had never thought much about menopause. I decided to do my homework on the topic and discovered there are850 million women in menopause worldwide. Less than seven percent receive the treatment they need. Twenty percent of the U.S. workforce are women of menopausal age, yet they receive no benefits or support to help them manage the brain fog, insomnia, hot flashes and mood swings. A woman’s risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease is more than twice that of a man – not because she lives longer, but because of the estrogen decline that occurs during menopause.
Looking beyond the traditional menopause symptoms, I learned that cardiovascular disease is the number one killer of women in the US, yet only one-third of participants in clinical trials are female. Twice as many women as men suffer from depression. It’s the leading cause of disability in women. And what contributes to both heart disease and depression? Declining hormonal levels in a woman’s body. Clearly, I thought, this is something that needs attention.
Finding solutions, now that’s my brilliance. I was in. All in. Passionately engaged. In September 2016, I launched genneve with a line of feminine care products, educational content and a mission to help women in midlife take control of their health. We know that the US faces a large and growing shortage of ob/gyns, particularly ones with menopause expertise, so we’re improving women’s access to doctors via our online clinic. For the last two-and-a-half years we’ve grown an audience of tens of thousands of women suffering in silence under a stigma that’s persisted for generations. Our mothers. Our grandmothers. But not us. No more.
genneve serves perimenopausal women in their 40s,starting to experience changing moods and heavy menstrual cycles. Women who’ve been thrust into early menopause in their 30s because of hysterectomy or cancer. Working women who feel they’ve lost their professional edge due to insomnia and brain fog.
Dr. Rebecca Dunsmoor-Su and Shannon Perry
Veterans experiencing recurring PTSD brought on by hormonal transition. Transgender men born with the internal organs of a woman and now experiencing menopause. Mothers worrying about how they treat their kids and partners because of bouts of rage and mood changes. Women without libido because sex hurts.
Recently a close friend asked, “Aren’t you afraid everyone thinks you’re going through some crazy menopause?” I brushed it off with, “If it’s good for genneve, and those we serve, I don’t care what people think about my menopause state.”
But I did. I do. I’m scared of what people will think about me and my own journey through something with such great stigma. And I’m scared of being the face of a brand that has the potential to serve millions of women but requires grit, exposure, and patience to tackle something no one has wanted to touch for generations. Sure I’m scared, but I am willing to face my fears because the genneve project is so much bigger than me. Millions of women’s health and wellbeing is at stake.
Since taking that unexpected sabbatical three-and-a-half years ago, I’ve experienced great success …and failure. But I now know the failures as much as the successes motivate me to do great things. I have learned to slow down from time to time and listen; to be present for the unexpected. Of course I have goals, specific plans, and implementation, but I also am open and allow experiences that may look different than what I expected. I recognize that what at first may seem to be off-plan or even to be a failure may just be a gift. In this instance it was a redirection to my truer path.
When I look back, I realize that in my earlier corporate role, fear was an unconscious force keeping me from realizing my full potential. Fear and failure were to be avoided. Now, it doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the fear – actually the stakes are so much higher – it’s that I have learned to wrangle and harness the fear for guidance and regard it as an opening to opportunities I may not yet have seen.
One thing’s for certain, I’ve learned to make space for the unexpected. Because it’s often through the unplanned parts of life that one is challenged to do the right thing. That’s where real fulfillment exists.