How My Work in Clinical Trials Shapes the Way I Talk About Menopause

Years spent designing and running clinical trials shape the way I think about information. When you work in clinical research, you learn very quickly that not all data are created equal. This is the lens I use to weigh claims about clinical trials and menopause before I share them.

The strength of any finding depends on how it was generated. Was the study randomized? Was it double-blind? Was there a control group? Were the endpoints clearly defined? Was it statistically powered to find what it claimed to find? These details are what separate meaningful results from noise.

What do clinical trials add to menopause transition?

Clinical trials test treatments under controlled conditions, often randomized and blinded, to separate real effects from placebo, quantify benefits and risks, and report adverse events. That’s the standard I use before translating findings into practical guidance.

That background is why I don’t rely on wellness trends, influencer claims, or one-off mechanistic mouse studies. The standard I use for Ticking Biology is the same one I’d apply in my day job: peer-reviewed, human studies with transparent methods. Evidence must be reproducible, not just headline-worthy.

Titles Don’t Reveal Everything

I don’t automatically assume that every medical professional can explain science well. Many doctors are brilliant clinicians, but few have been trained in research methodology or critical analysis. 

It’s not their fault, it’s simply not how most medical education is structured. The same way many physicians never receive formal training in menopause care, many also haven’t learned how to dissect study design, bias, or statistical power. 

“So when I read a study, I read it like a scientist, not like a prescriber.”

My neuroscience background adds another dimension to this. Understanding neuroendocrinology means I can connect the dots between hormones and the brain: how estradiol interacts with neurotransmitters and brain receptors, influencing everything from mood regulation to temperature control. 

My grounding in pharmacology and clinical-trial design also means I understand the mechanisms and evidence behind hormone therapy, antidepressants, and sleep medications: how dosing works, what “body-identical” really means, and where the data on safety and side effects actually come from.

Curious Facts

• Most doctors never learn much about menopause in medical school. A 2017 survey of U.S. medical residents found that only 6.8% had received formal menopause education, and fewer than one in ten felt prepared to treat women going through it1.
• Only about 31% of U.S. residency programs offer any formal menopause curriculum, and 29% give trainees dedicated clinical experience, despite 93% of program directors agreeing that standardized menopause education is urgently needed2.

Why Rigor Matters

This rigor matters, especially in menopause research, where the information landscape is crowded with conflicting advice. Supplements are marketed as miracle cures, “bioidentical” hormones are oversimplified, and nutrition fads get recycled with new labels. 

By reading the original research (statistical analyses, inclusion criteria, adverse event reports) I can separate what genuinely helps from what’s simply trending. It’s also what allows me to translate science responsibly. 

When I write about hormone therapy, supplements, or behavioral interventions, I do it with the same structure a scientific review would use: summarizing evidence strength, human-study outcomes, and known limitations.

But there’s another reason I hold this line.

I’m also a woman in perimenopause, searching for answers that aren’t watered down or oversimplified. I’ve learned firsthand that misinformation spreads fast when evidence is scarce. Women are left guessing whether what they feel is “normal,” while science quietly catches up to what our bodies already know.

My goal in Ticking Biology is to make the science understandable without losing accuracy.