Why Do I Feel So Joyless? Anhedonia During Menopause

“Who are you when there’s nothing left to prove?”

This was the title of an email that popped into my inbox recently, and I have to say, it captured something I’d been feeling for quite a while.

I’d been talking about anhedonia with my friend and colleague recently. Anhedonia is the clinical name for a reduced ability to feel pleasure, interest or enjoyment. It can feel as though the things that used to light you up have somehow lost their voltage.

You can still get out of bed. You can still work. You can still put the washing on, answer emails and have conversations.  From the outside, everything's fine. 

But inside, everything feels a little bit… beige.

You can't really be arsed to go on that holiday you booked 5 months ago.  

The crafting you used to enjoy feel a bit boring.  

The thought of socialising, achieving or planning fills you with dread.  

And because anhedonia can be a symptom of depression, it’s important to take it seriously. Quick caveat....A persistent loss of pleasure, especially when it's experienced alongside low mood, hopelessness, changes in sleep or appetite, difficulty functioning or thoughts of harming yourself, deserves proper support.

But as I reflected on my own experience, part of me began to wonder whether there might be another layer of meaning beneath the symptom.

Because the feeling in my body wasn’t exactly, “I hate my life.”

It was more like:

“I have absolutely zero interest in proving to anyone that I’m a good person, a clever person, a brilliant therapist, a tidy person, a happy person, a successful person… blah, blah, blah.”

And over the last few months, that feeling has really made a nest for itself. 🤣

Of course, I’m bloody good at what I do. And yeah, I’m a great person, if I do say so myself. But I seem to have lost the desire to jump through hoops demonstrating it.

And when you’ve spent decades organising your life around proving yourself, the absence of that drive can feel remarkably similar to the absence of joy.

Is anhedonia a symptom of menopause?

Anhedonia isn’t exclusive to menopause. It’s strongly associated with depression and can also occur in relation to chronic stress, burnout, trauma, certain medications and other physical or psychological conditions.

But emerging research is beginning to explore the relationship between perimenopause, oestrogen fluctuation and the brain’s reward system (hello dopamine, my ole friend).

Our brain's reward system is involved in motivation, anticipation, pleasure and our sense of desire to move towards something we want. It’s part of what gives an experience its emotional draw. You don’t merely know that something is good; you feel magnetised towards it.  

Research into perimenopausal depression suggests that hormonal changes may affect reward-related brain circuits in some women. One study examining anhedonia during perimenopause proposed that fluctuating oestrogen may disrupt the mesolimbic reward system in hormonally sensitive women. More recent research has also explored whether estradiol treatment can influence reward-related brain activation and anhedonia in women with perimenopause-onset depression. (Walsh et al., 2025)

The research is still developing, and anhedonia during menopause is unlikely to have one neat, universal explanation. Hormones may be part of the picture, alongside disrupted sleep, hot flushes, chronic stress, relationship changes, ageing parents, changing bodies, shifting identities and the accumulated exhaustion of being the person who has held everything together. (Right?!)

Menopause rarely arrives neatly packed as one symptom. It usually turns up carrying several suitcases.

When your old sources of pleasure stop working

Our whole paradigm of existence is built around forward motion, isn’t it?

Do more. Be more. Have more.

Become fitter, richer, calmer, wiser, tidier, more successful and better at meal preparation. Heal your trauma. Optimise your morning routine. Grow your business. Drink the water. Manifest the house. Become the very best version of yourself, preferably before breakfast.

And I get it. I love growth mindset and all that.

But a great deal of what we call 'motivation' (remember anhedonia is linked to the brains reward system) is also driven by approval, competition and the hope that one day when we have 'the thing', we'll finally feel like enough.

This tends to be a major blindspot for us because overfunctioning is highly rewarded.  (We are soooo conditioned for it.)

Recognise any of these??

The person who keeps going despite burnout is described as capable.

The person who anticipates everyone’s needs is called caring.

The person who produces exceptional work is ambitious.

The person who keeps the house immaculate is organised.

And sometimes these things are exactly what they appear to be. But sometimes there’s another unconscious driver underneath them:

If I do this well enough, perhaps I’ll feel safe.

If I become impressive enough, perhaps nobody can dismiss me.

If I remain useful enough, perhaps I’ll continue to belong.

If I keep everybody happy, perhaps nobody will be disappointed in me.

That kind of striving can create enormous amounts of energy. Stress hormones, urgency, perfectionism and praise which can be surprisingly effective fuel sources maintaining motivation.

They can also run the entire bloody vehicle into the ground..... eventually.  

What if the light hasn’t gone out?

Many people interpret anhedonia as a light going out.

And sometimes, thats right because the person is severely stressed, sleep-deprived or physically unwell.

But I wonder whether, for some of us, there are moments when what has gone out is the flashing neon sign shouting "over here - you'll find your excitement over here." 

Because something in us knows, you actually won't find your excitement over there.

From being admired, needed, praised or validated and from the surge of becoming more [choose your socially acceptable status]?

And if that source of motivation begins to fall flat during menopause, no wonder if feels anhedonic.  

The nervous system has become so accustomed to the rollercoaster: anticipation, effort, achievement, recognition, relief… and then the search for the next thing.  (What a ride?!)

So when the body says, “I don’t want to ride that anymore,” we stand on solid ground feeling "what fresh hell is this?"   

Where are my stress hormones?  

Where's the buzz, the urgency? 

Where’s the version of me who could take on seventeen projects, solve everyone’s problems and reorganise the kitchen cupboards at 10.30 pm?

She's gone, baby!  No more f**ks left.  

Nothing to prove.  

Menopause and the collapse of performative identity

One of the most psychologically interesting things about menopause is the way it can dismantle identities that were once held together by performance.

I'm sure you know the one's by now....

The good girl.

The helpful one.

The attractive one.

The capable one.

The one who never makes a fuss.

The one who can always be relied upon.

The one who keeps going because she's avoiding the question...

Who am I when there’s nothing left to prove?

That question can feel frightening because it removes the scoreboard.

And without a scoreboard, how do you know whether you’re winning?

Where do you find your 'motivation?' 

Perhaps this is one reason some women describe menopause as feeling like a breakdown. Their old motivational architecture is collapsing, but the new one hasn’t yet been built.

And yeah, for a while, there might be a gap.

You no longer want the life that was orientated around approval, but you don’t yet know what desire feels like without an audience.

That gap can feel anhedonic - joyless - lacking something.  

It can also be the beginning of something more honest.

Find joy in this pebble instead

Maybe sometimes anhedonia is the body’s very intelligent way of saying:

“Just let go, babes.”

“Just stop.”

“You’re OK.”

“You don’t need the rollercoaster anymore.”

“Find joy in this pebble instead.”

I’m obviously being a little playful here. The body doesn’t speak in fully punctuated motivational statements, and genuine anhedonia cannot always be reframed away with a nice walk and an attractive stone.

But I do think there’s something important in the difference between high intensity reward and quiet pleasure.

High intensity reward often comes with pursuit. It thrives in anticipation, novelty, recognition, acquisition and achievement.

Quiet pleasure asks for presence.

The warmth of the mug in your hands.

A dog doing something ridiculous.

Leaving the dishes.  

The inky blue colour of the sea at 9pm.

A conversation in which you don’t have to impress anyone.

A pebble that is pleasingly smooth for absolutely no productive reason.

These experiences may seem underwhelming when your nervous system has been trained to recognise excitement only at full volume. You may need time to become sensitive to quieter forms of enjoyment.

And perhaps this is part of the transition: learning to experience pleasure that doesn’t improve you, prove you or prepare you for your next achievement.

Pleasure with no CV attached.

So, am I depressed or am I changing?

There isn’t a single diagnosis that can reliably separate anhedonia, depression, burnout, hormonal change and identity transformation. More than one of these things can also be true at the same time.

But it may help to become curious about the quality of your joylessness.

Has your ability to feel pleasure disappeared across almost every area of life?

Are you persistently low, hopeless, numb or unable to function?

Has your sleep, appetite, concentration or capacity to care for yourself changed significantly?

If so, please speak to your GP or another qualified health professional and get assessed. 

And alongside that proper assessment, take a minute to ponder:

Did I enjoy the thing itself, or did I enjoy what doing it allowed me to believe about myself?

....that I was ambitious, that I still had it, that I was competent, that I fitted in, that I was doing the right thing, that I was fun.

And is that truly you or is that an inherited, rebellious or performative value at play?  

Instead, you might ask...

What feels pleasant when nobody's watching?

What might emerge if I stopped forcing myself to want my old life back?

So when we think about that light that's gone out... do we really want to turn on that old flourescent strip lighting (that tries to illuminate the whole bloody world) or do we want to try and adjust our eyes to a more subtle kind of lighting, a more muted tone...

One that simply illuminates that pebble in your hand.  

If menopause has left you feeling joyless, disconnected or unlike yourself, I offer one-to-one support for the psychological and identity changes that can emerge during this transition.