Menopause.

I suffered for 12 years.

Twelve. Long. Sweaty. Years.

I had hot flashes and internal downpours for over a decade.

My body became a walking volcano, except less predictable and way more irritable.

I was the dreaded “moist” word in 20-degree weather.

I am assuming that someone’s husband in power is breaking through the policy glass ceiling. Let’s be honest, it took his wife going through it for him to act.

So far this year, lawmakers in 13 states have introduced more than 20 bills to expand treatment access, improve workplace support, and to educate doctors on menopause. Revolutionary, considering most of them treat it like a footnote in a dusty med school binder from 1960.

Finally, people are hearing women roar and not just because we are yelling at the thermostat.

Thankfully, this doesn’t seem like a passing moment. It feels like a real shift in how menopause care is being approached. It’s about damn time.

If this legislation moves forward and that’s still a big if, since women are often treated like second-class citizens in healthcare, we might actually see insurance coverage and healthcare policies recognize menopause for what it is…a critical health issue, not just a woman thing to be handled with a fan and a smile.

Remember when we had to fight for menstruation rights? Just imagine men dealing with their disagreeable friend every month, cramping, bloating, mood swings and having to carry around overpriced “equipment” that’s taxed like it’s a luxury yacht.

And here’s the kicker: Menstruation. Menopause. Why do both of the most heinous biological sagas in a woman’s life begin with “men”?

Coincidence? I think not.