Valerie Jacqueline Ritchie: How I Found Power in the Pause

After a life-altering diagnosis of early menopause, Valerie Jacqueline Ritchie found herself grieving the life she thought she’d have. But in that grief, a new path emerged — one of truth, transformation, and divine feminine strength. Today, she coaches professional women to reconnect with their purpose, align with their body’s wisdom, and rise from emotional chaos to empowered clarity. Her journey is a reminder that midlife isn’t a breakdown — it’s a breakthrough. Valerie is helping women rediscover who they were always meant to be with compassion, courage, and candour.

“I asked myself, ‘Is this it?’ — and the answer changed everything.”

Turning 40 felt like a milestone. What did that time represent to you, and how did the unexpected arrival of menopause shift your sense of identity, purpose, and future?

Turning 40 was supposed to be the start of something bold. I’d reached a place in life where I felt accomplished, confident, and ready to live more intentionally. I remember thinking, “This is it. This is when I truly begin.” I’d just entered a new relationship, I was thriving professionally, and I felt like I was finally living life on purpose — consciously, not just by default.

But life, as we know, doesn’t always follow the script.

The shock came when I was told I was already post-menopausal in my early 40s. It wasn’t just surprising — it was devastating. It wasn’t a gentle easing in, but a brutal full stop. That one diagnosis brought with it the crushing realisation that I wouldn’t have children. And while that may not have been a fully formed plan before, the possibility was gone, snatched away without warning.

That moment marked the start of a profound unravelling. Suddenly, all the roles I had clung to — partner, future mother, educator, achiever — no longer felt solid. I had ticked so many boxes and yet… I felt empty. Untethered. I began asking the same questions that now echo through the women I coach:
“Is this it?” “Who am I now?” “What happens next?”

This wasn’t just menopause. This was a rupture. A soul-level shift that shook the foundations of everything I thought I knew about myself and my future.

At first, I tried to make it make sense — to fix it, control it, push through it. But the truth is, the woman I was before couldn’t survive what came next. She had to break so that something new could emerge. Not a reinvention — but a reclamation.

And that reclamation began with grief. The grief of the life I thought I’d have. The grief of not becoming a mother. The grief of losing the familiar version of me.

But now, looking back, I see that moment — as painful as it was — as the portal. The beginning of The Crone Goddess within me stirring. I just didn’t know it yet.

You describe midlife as a period of emotional chaos. How did that chaos become a catalyst for transformation — and the emergence of The Crone Goddess within you?

Emotional chaos doesn’t begin with a bang. It creeps in quietly at first — a missed word, a forgotten appointment, a low mood that lingers longer than expected. But eventually, the weight becomes too much to ignore. For me, it felt like I was coming undone from the inside out. The woman who once had the answers — the calm leader, the educator, the woman with a plan — began to unravel.

It wasn’t just the physical symptoms of menopause, although they were there in full force: brain fog, sleepless nights, a body I no longer recognised. It was deeper than that. There were days I’d cry without knowing why. Moments where I couldn’t even look in the mirror without thinking, “Where did she go?”

And the truth is — she had gone. The woman I had been no longer existed. But what I didn’t realise at the time was that she had made space for something far more powerful to rise.

The chaos became my teacher.

It forced me to feel what I’d buried. To stop performing and start listening. The noise of achievement fell silent — and in the quiet, I heard my own voice for the first time in years.

At first, I didn’t trust it. I thought healing would come from fixing myself. But healing came from unlearning — from softening, from shedding, from surrendering to the truth that I didn’t need to be “better”… I needed to be. Fully. Messily. Honestly.

And that’s when she started to appear — not as a sudden epiphany, but as a whisper: The Crone.

Not the hag of fairy tales. Not the discarded woman. But the one who watches, listens, knows. The keeper of sacred self.

She had been waiting for me all along, buried beneath the layers of expectation and noise. It was in the chaos that I remembered her. And through that remembering, I came home to myself.

Menopause impacted more than your body. It reached into your relationships and sense of self. What truths or unexpected emotions did it reveal, and how did they shape your journey?

Menopause stripped away more than oestrogen — it stripped away illusions.

At the time, I was in a loving relationship. But when I was told I was post-menopausal — and that we wouldn’t be having children — something cracked wide open. It wasn’t just about fertility; it was about finality. And with that came grief, blame, sadness, and a silence we didn’t know how to fill.

There was nothing either of us did wrong, but we were both mourning different things. I grieved the child we never had, the version of my life I thought I was still walking toward. I was angry with my body, ashamed of what I perceived as failure. And he grieved too — but in his own quiet way. We were both there, yet emotionally adrift.

What surprised me most was how isolated I felt in that space. I was surrounded by support, and still, I felt alone. Because nobody talks about this. Nobody prepares you for the emotional labour of menopause — the mourning of the woman you were, or the fear of the one you’re becoming.

And yet, in that quiet grief, something sacred began to form. A deeper relationship with myself. One that wasn’t built on titles, roles, or what I could give others, but on what I needed to give myself.

That’s where the Crone emerged again — not with rage or blame, but with truth.
“Come home to yourself,” she whispered.
And I did.

You’ve spoken of the stages of transformation — denial, resistance, exploration, and commitment. What turning point called you back to yourself, and what did it take to answer that call?

The turning point was subtle. It wasn’t a dramatic moment, but a quiet rebellion.

I remember standing in my kitchen, paralysed by indecision over something utterly trivial — and thinking, “Who even am I anymore?” That question lingered, haunting and honest.

At that point, I had gone through denial — pretending I was fine, minimising my symptoms, distracting myself with work. Resistance followed hard and fast — frustration, withdrawal, snapping at loved ones, questioning everything. Exploration came in bursts: meditation apps I didn’t open, books I didn’t finish, podcasts that made me weep.

But the call back to myself came when I allowed myself to pause. To stop striving and simply sit with the truth of what I was feeling — without trying to fix it.

I had a moment — maybe even a conversation with myself — where I realised: I don’t want to go back. I want to go deeper.

That was the commitment.

To walk through the portal — fully awake, fully aware — and trust that I would meet a stronger, more sacred version of myself on the other side.

The Crone doesn’t arrive with fireworks. She arrives when we’re finally willing to listen.

Clarity and peace didn’t arrive overnight. What grounded you through the becoming, and how did the Crone begin to rise in you during those moments?

Peace was never the goal. At least not at first. In the beginning, I just wanted to stop hurting. But somewhere along the way, I realised that peace isn’t the absence of pain — it’s the presence of self.

I began with small rituals. Mirror work — looking myself in the eye each morning, even when I didn’t recognise who I saw. Journalling, not for answers, but for honesty. Breathwork that helped me feel rooted in a body that felt foreign. Walking in nature. Moving slowly. Asking, “What do I need today?” — and actually listening.

One of the most powerful practices was something I now call a Power Pause. Just standing in front of the mirror, placing a hand on my heart, and saying:

“I see you. I honour you. I’m proud of you.”

At first, I could barely say it without crying. But over time, those words became an anchor.

The Crone began to rise in those moments — not because I was trying to become someone new, but because I was finally making space for who I already was.

She was never far. She was always there — underneath the noise, the grief, the fear. I just had to get quiet enough to feel her wisdom.

You now guide midlife women through their own awakenings. What are they struggling with most — and how does your work support them in reclaiming power, peace, and self-worth?

The most common struggle I see is disconnection. Not just from others, but from self.

These women have spent decades giving, proving, achieving. They’re professionals, caregivers, leaders. And yet, when they sit across from me, I often hear the same whisper:
“I’ve lost myself.”

They’re not broken — they’re buried. Beneath expectations, roles, and responsibilities. Many don’t even realise they’re grieving — not just menopause or midlife changes, but unlived dreams, unspoken truths, unprocessed pain.

My work helps them pause, reconnect, and remember. I create the space where they can breathe again. Where shame has no room, and truth is gently honoured.

Through powerful conversation, deep reflection, and practical tools, I guide them to:

• Rediscover their voice
• Reclaim their energy
• Reframe their story
• And rise, not as who they were, but as who they were always meant to be

They don’t need fixing. They need witnessing. And in that witnessing, they remember: I am enough. I’ve always been enough.

Feminine power can be hard to define — yet undeniable when embodied. What does it look like in your life now, and how can other women begin to root into their own?

Feminine power is not loud, but it’s unshakeable.

In my life, it looks like trusting my intuition even when it doesn’t make sense on paper. It looks like resting when I need to, without guilt. It looks like saying “no” with love and “yes” without fear. It looks like walking into a room and not shrinking to fit the space.

But mostly, it looks like being deeply, unapologetically me.

For other women, I say this: feminine power isn’t something you find — it’s something you return to. It’s already within you. But you have to be willing to peel back the layers of “should” and “must” and “not enough.”

Start by listening to your body. Honouring your rhythms. Allowing your emotions to be messengers rather than problems to fix.

The Crone doesn’t seek approval. She embodies truth. That’s the power we’re all born with — and it’s ours to reclaim.

What are the biggest lies we’ve been told about menopause and midlife — and what truth would you want every woman to know instead?

Lie #1: You’re past your prime.
Lie #2: You’re no longer valuable.
Lie #3: You’re invisible.
Lie #4: You should age quietly.

I reject all of them.

The truth? Midlife is your becoming. It’s the part of your life where you are no longer ruled by other people’s timelines, but guided by your own rhythm.

You’re not invisible — you’re awakening.
You’re not declining — you’re deepening.
You’re not behind — you’re being called forward.

There is nothing wrong with you. Your body is wise. Your emotions are sacred. And your intuition is your superpower.

There’s more to life than menopause.
This isn’t about managing symptoms — it’s about claiming your next chapter.

Menopause isn’t the end. It’s a sacred rite of passage. One that deserves ceremony, reverence, and celebration.

Your career path has spanned educator, athlete, author, and now Crone Goddess Coach. How has your lived experience shaped the way you support women today?

Everything I’ve done has led me here.

Teaching taught me to listen deeply and meet people where they are. Sport taught me discipline, resilience, and the joy of embodiment. Writing taught me how to speak truth to power. Coaching brings all of it together — heart, mind, body, and spirit.

But it’s not just my titles — it’s the lived experience beneath them. Divorce. Loss. Grief. Growth. Starting again when I didn’t know if I could. Choosing myself, over and over again.

That’s why I coach the way I do. With compassion and candour. With structure and soul. I’m not above the women I serve. I’m beside them. I am them. And that’s why they trust me.

I don’t offer quick fixes. I offer sacred space. I don’t teach from theory — I guide from truth.

If you could speak directly to the woman standing at a crossroads — feeling lost in the noise of midlife — what wisdom would The Crone Goddess offer her?

She would say:

“My love, you are not broken — you are becoming.”

You don’t need to rush, fix, or prove anything. You are allowed to pause. To feel. To not know. You are allowed to honour the mess and still believe in your magic.

This is not the end. This is your invitation.

To shed what no longer serves.
To reclaim what was once silenced.
To rise, not as a younger version of you, but as the truest version of you.

This is your midlife.
Your power.
Your Crone.

Own her. Honour her. Be her — rooted in wisdom, rising in power.

Final Reflection – Author’s Note

Midlife is not the end of the story — it’s the part where you finally pick up the pen.

I’m not here to sugar-coat it. This journey has been messy, emotional, and at times, agonising. But it’s also been the most liberating chapter of my life. Because in shedding what no longer served me — the roles, the expectations, the self-doubt — I made space for something ancient and sacred to rise.

I found my Crone.
And in her, I found me.

So let me say this clearly:
There’s more to life than menopause.
This is your time to deepen, to rediscover, to choose yourself fully and without apology.

Rooted in wisdom. Rising in power.
That’s the Crone path. And you don’t need to walk it alone.

The invitation is open.
The mirror is waiting.
The next version of you is ready to rise.

— Valerie Jacqueline Ritchie, The Crone Goddess