When the Bay Area started to shut down in March 2020, my wife, our two kids, and I were among the lucky ones: We just did more of what we’d already been doing. However, my wife was experiencing unexplained sleep problems, anxiety, and weight changes.

My wife is the most amazing person I know. We met in college 31 years ago. It’s a controversial opinion, but I sort of side with Ayelet Waldman, who once said some version of “I put my spouse over everyone.” Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids to death, but my wife and I have an emotional connection that I wholeheartedly believe is unique.

After months of frustration and uncertainty around her symptoms, no thanks to a true dearth of consumer resources on the topic, and all playing out against the quiet confusion of the early pandemic, we finally realized they could be signs of perimenopause. The follow-up didn’t offer much confidence or clarity, though. She went to the doctor, who prescribed something. It didn’t work. The response? Well, just keep doing it.

After over three decades with my best friend and soulmate, I felt like she was getting dropped off a cliff by the medical community at the time she needed it the most. She was at the top of her career, an amazing mother and partner. This wasn’t the story we’d been told about how midlife was supposed to go.

So when a recruiter called me to talk about a menopause company that was starting up, I surprised myself by responding, “You can stop talking. I totally get it.”

Besides providing true symptom relief, the company’s focus aligned pretty squarely with what counts for me the most right now: moral and mental health support in confusing times. I saw an opportunity to do something more than “just keep trying” what hasn’t been working. Building an alternative seemed like a much more appealing solution.

I often ponder what I perceive to be societal shifts. My conclusion about the past two years: This time has hinged on taking care of those around us—that’s how we’ve survived.

My wife’s health concerns were front and center, even more so because we spent 24/7 together. The undercurrents of comparative thinking that dominate life in an office faded into the background. What moved to the foreground were the mechanics of how to truly care for those who were right in front of me.

When I thought about making this career change, I asked myself the usual questions that I use to evaluate projects and ideas, but now, an extra one was in the mix in light of my experiences with COVID: Will this change my world—and that of those around me?

Many of us at various points in our careers have had the impulse to seek out work that feels more meaningful. But to really build a solution, you need a deep understanding of the problem—and to do that, you need to have lived with that problem. It’s my guess that for better or worse, nearly all of us can probably identify something that could use our help in light of the past two years.

Like many, my world became four walls and the people inside them. Making my small world better gave me the empathy and context to apply my skills to a big problem—literally every biological woman will go through menopause—and one that’s often ignored.

If you’re considering a big career move, this approach may help you with your thinking. It has worked for me: I haven’t looked back once.

Joshua Mahoney is Evernow’s chief product officer (CPO).