The important word you've (probably) never heard of

The important word you've (probably) never heard of

Hands up if you've heard the word 'matrescence'?

Exactly...

Yet matrescence is a stage of many women's lives that upends everything you (thought) you knew and changes it forever. It is as seismic as going through puberty or the menopause; it can be as much an upheaval as bereavement or illness or marriage or divorce. The likelihood of depressive episodes can be twice as high during the period of matrescence, compared with other times in a woman's life. It even changes the way we process sound. So why don't we ever hear about it?

This week, for this newsletter, I spoke to Suki Jones, who is campaigning to make sure that we add this vital definition to all our dictionaries. Here's what she had to tell me:

"IDGAF" is in the dictionary. The word for becoming a mother isn't

We have words like adolescence and menopause to describe major life transitions, yet we still don't formally recognise matrescence, the profound psychological, physical and identity shift that happens when a woman becomes a mother. Naming it matters, because when an experience has language, it becomes visible, researched and supported.

The World Health Organisation has already identified maternal isolation as a growing public health concern, and untreated perinatal mental health conditions cost the NHS an estimated £8.1 billion for each annual birth cohort.

Recognising matrescence won't eradicate that cost, but it is an important step towards acknowledging the scale of this transition and ensuring mothers feel seen and supported. Importantly, when we do not have language for an experience, it becomes easy to dismiss or minimise it. Recognising matrescence is a small but powerful step towards validating mothers' experiences and opening the door to better conversations about maternal wellbeing.

Finally, we must acknowledge that if men's brains were being rewired, you can bet there would be a word for it. Matrescence gives mothers the language to describe one of the most profound transitions of their lives.

You can read more about the campaign here.

I, for one, couldn't agree more with the importance (and life-altering upheaval) of matrescence – and the need for it to be formally recognised. I felt it when both my children were born, and I still feel it today, a decade later. In fact, I wrote about both the pain and the joy I experienced on becoming a mother here, inspired by Hamnet star Jessie Buckley's beautiful speech after she took home the gong for Best Actress at the Oscars and dedicated it to "the beautiful chaos of a mother's heart".

I also read Emma Barnett's piece this week on how she has had enough of people telling new mums to "enjoy every minute" and wants to do away with "toxic positivity" (she's also advocating we change the term "maternity leave" to "maternity service"). I was particularly struck by this confession: "I can remember watching the hands of the kitchen clock go round, because there was nothing to do. It was bloody awful."

And this resonated with me deeply: "I found it extraordinary to become a mother, to create another human with the person I love, but everything about my identity shifted. I was groping around for language to describe it."

An important note: focusing on matrescence doesn't have to exclude those who have had motherhood struggles or (almost) motherhood; those who have experienced the profound grief of infertility, IVF or bereavement. It doesn't have to preclude those who choose not to become mothers or who relish being child-free. Adding "matrescence" to our collective lexicon is for the good of all women – to enable us to understand, support and help each other. And isn't that what community in womanhood is all about?

I also can't write about this topic without giving a huge shout-out to Lucy Jones, whose book Matrescence explores all these themes (it is a study of the biological, psychological, emotional and social transition into motherhood, plus her own personal experience of postnatal depression) and more. Do give it a read. And please write in and let me know your own experience of matrescence – the good, the raw, the ugly.

One final reading tip for you: in my previous role as Voices Editor, I commissioned this incredible, revealing first-person essay by the poet Jenny Pagdin, who wrote about experiencing postnatal psychosis: "I went to an NCT meet-up six weeks after giving birth – and forgot I had a baby." Click here to read more.

Get in touch

You can write to me about anything you like. I'll feature some of the emails sent in, alongside guest pieces from writers who want to have their say. Send it straight to me at victoria.richards@independent.co.uk.

Or, if you want advice on love, work, family and relationships, email me at dearvix@independent.co.uk.

The term "alpine divorce" dates back to a 1893 short story by Scottish-Canadian author Robert Barr, in which a man plots to push his wife off a mountain. While fictional, the story taps into a long-standing fear of betrayal in remote, high-risk environments. The term went mainstream last month, after Austrian climber Thomas Plamberger was found guilty of gross negligent manslaughter for leaving his girlfriend to freeze to death during a hike on Grossglockner, Austria's highest mountain at 14,461ft (3,798 meters), in 2025. The judge ruled that Plamberger was responsible for Gurtner, noting that his mountaineering skills were "galaxies" beyond hers and criticising him for failing to assess her abilities. (Plamberger has denied criminal wrongdoing and is appealing.) During the trial, his ex-girlfriend Andrea Bergener testified that he had left her alone on a night hike on Grossglockner years earlier — though, in her case, she had managed to descend the mountain safely on her own.

My friend was 18 when she died of meningitis at university

Katy Fallon's friend Antonia was just 18 years old when she died overnight from bacterial meningitis during her first term at Oxford University in October 2009. Seventeen years on, there is still not enough being done to inform students about the symptoms and dangers of the disease – not least because people still aren't vaccinating their children (I wrote about this here). As Katy writes in this personal, reflective piece, there is still far too little awareness of the illness, which, even when it does not kill, can leave survivors with long-term disabilities. Click here to read more.

Self Esteem on her pivot from music to acting: 'I felt a bit dead'

I absolutely loved reading about the creative force that is Self Esteem, here. 

Frank, funny and always brutally honest, the Rotherham-born singer tells Jessie Thompson of the mad trajectory of successes that have left her "very disturbed emotionally".

Talking to Taylor is a bit like getting a really good 10-minute voice note from your friend; she swears a lot, regularly laughs at herself. You feel she might tell you everything, and you'd probably do it back. You'll talk about existentialism and Derren Brown, botox and whether to have a baby, all in the same conversation. 

Click here to read more. 

'What going on 100 dates in a day taught me about my sex and love addiction'

Ten years after realising she was a sex and love addict, Harriet Richardson went on 100 dates in a single day to learn more about herself. But did it change her approach to love? Click here to read all about it...

Richardson has identified as a sex and love addict since the age of 20 – "I can't relate to people in a healthy way. It's always about consuming, or being consumed by someone" – even though she's been engaged in a cycle of infatuations and obsessions since the age of 14. She's now in a process of recovering from her addiction with the help of therapy, and is doing much better; partly due to being celibate for eight months. But last month, she went on 100 dates – all in one day. It was part of a performance piece entitled "100 Dates", where on Valentine's Day, she speed-dated 100 people over Zoom. Anyone could sign up for a slot; everyone got the same five minutes.

I'm a 32-year-old guy, and I've reached a point where I'm struggling to keep my head above water. On paper, things are "fine," but lately, I just feel incredibly lonely, lost, and (to be honest) pretty sad.

I've been single for a long time now, and the weight of that, combined with feeling like I'm just drifting through my life (with no sign of ever having kids), is starting to feel heavy. But the real problem is my friends. I have a great group of mates; guys I've known for years. We watch football, grab beers, and talk about everything from work to women. But we never really talk.

I want to tell them how I'm actually doing. I want to tell them I'm hurting and that I feel like I'm failing at the things that matter. But every time we're together, the "man code" kicks in. I find myself making a joke or changing the subject because I'm terrified of making things awkward or being the "downer" of the group. I don't want them to look at me with pity, but I'm tired of pretending I'm okay when I'm not.

How does a guy my age start that conversation without it feeling forced or weird? How do I open up when our entire friendship is built on keeping things light? I feel like I'm drowning in a room full of people who care about me, and I just don't know how to ask for a hand.

Are your kids vaccinated against meningitis?

Last week, I asked you whether you feel comfortable talking about sex, following news of a seven-minute 'sex speed party' in Paris.

Here's what you said:

Interestingly, 57 per cent of you said you would feel comfortable talking about sex, "depending on the circumstances."

In our latest poll, I'd like to know whether your kids have been vaccinated against meningitis. At the moment, UK babies and infants are given the Men B vaccine shortly after birth, with a booster at eight and 12 weeks, and then they receive the Men ACWY vaccine at school in Year 9 – my daughter is getting hers next week. But many children who are now at university missed out on their Year 9 boosters during the Covid lockdown, when schools were closed. What happened in your families? Click here to vote.

Meanwhile, one male reader wrote in to respond to last week's Dear Vix problem page, which featured a man who says he has been battling his demons for 30 years and is now "losing hope":

I read your article with interest. Well written. I like the idea of the little boy hurt. I drink too much. But it numbs the pain. 

And commenter Mellie was very supportive of his plight:

Wise words from Vix. Over the years, I've known a number of people who "self-medicated" with drink, drugs, or both – usually to numb the pain of psychological trauma that often goes back to their childhood.

The fear, guilt and shame they felt was just too much to bear or deal with.

So they became trapped in something of a catch-22 – unable to deal with their issues because of the addiction, and unable to deal with the addiction because of their issues. Some were, when I knew them, unable to climb out, and others had been or were being successful. I think the successful ones had simply reached the point where they were so desperate to fix things that they engaged with AA/NA in a different spirit.

It won't be easy, Lost Boy, but it is possible. There is a lot of support out there (you know that), so please do re-engage and ask for help again… maybe this time is the right time. Best wishes on your journey… and please, please, please be gentle with yourself. Everyone who reads this will be rooting for you.

THIS WEEK...

I spent Mother's Day doing absolutely nothing

I have to be honest: my favourite thing to do with my children is absolutely nothing. From watching Mr Beast in BeastGames together while eating dinner (I always cry at the players' sob stories, and they always tease me for it) to getting into bed on a Sunday afternoon to cuddle and watch films like Enola Holmes 2 with my son, to doing the exact same thing with my teenage daughter every night before she goes to bed (we like to watch Patience – a detective TV series starring an autistic analyst – and give each other hand massages while eating chocolates we bought in France).

I don't really think you have to hare around spending a fortune at weekends – the smallest joys, for me, are right at home.

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