My period started yesterday. I’m 40 years old and I know that I have a finite number of cycles left. I’m already grieving the end, which ironic given the case I’m about to lay out. But this isn’t supposed to be an essay about should’s or should nots, its about acceptance. And so, I accept that I’m grieving the inevitable loss of my cycle, even as I know I can welcome change simultaneously. But maybe I’m not currently grieving the end of the cycle. I’m grieving the two decades of precious time I ignored my cycle. The messages I didn’t hear because I stifled her voice. I cut the connection between my body and my soul, and now that shes with me I have less time with her. I can’t bring those years back, but I can grieve their loss while cherishing the time I have left.
This isn’t an essay about perimenopause, either, though maybe this essay exists because of approaching sunset of my fertile years. This is an essay about honoring and revering the monthly rhythm, the monthly communication and feedback I’m sure to receive, if I’m wise enough to listen.
Like many girls in western society I grew up not liking my cycle. However, before my peers, the television, and the common dream had me agree on what it was like to have a period, I remember being excited for it to come. Something that made me special, and different from others.
Of course, once it did come, it came with a vengance. Something wasn’t right with my body, and when i was 14 years old, my three month bleed was only noticed when my stepdad complained about seeing period blood in the waste basket. Because, you know, he shouldn’t have to see any of that.
My mom asked me how long my period had lasted, and when I couldn’t remember, she finally saw the dark circles under my eyes and the pale skin revealing that something was wrong. She made an appointment at a local doctors office. I’m not sure why she took me to this particular doctor, I’ve never asked her, and I don’t think I ever will. In the office there was a painting of Mary holding the newborn baby Jesus.
The old white haired man entered the room and asked me my symptoms. My blood tests had revealed that while I wasn’t pregnant, I was extremely anemic. I would need to focus on my diet and take supplements to get the iron back up. He had my mother leave the office while he talked to me in private. “You might be pregnant” He told me, after my mother left. He cautioned me about doing inappropriate things with boys, since that was the most likely reason for prolonged bleeding, despite the negative pregnancy test. I had never had sex. I had kissed a boy, so I shrank back in shame and accepted his lecture. He prescribed birth control pills, and told my mom it was to stop the bleeding.
It worked.
I was on hormonal birth control consistently from that day until I was 32. At that point, I wasn’t sure what got ahold of me, but I knew that supressing my cycle wasn’t the right way to go about things. Simultaneously I also came across the idea of reusable menstrual products, which fascinated me. The idea that you wouldn’t just throw away the product after defiling it raised an interesting idea. If this monthly fluid wasnt toxic, what was it?
My reverence of the menstrual cycle came on slowly after getting off birth control. While I was sexually active with my partner, I learned that the body gives a lot of cross checkable signs when it is fertile. If you don’t expose yourself to male gametes during that time, you won’t get pregnant. This appealed to my scientific mind. And also rubbed a dissonance in me. The rhythm method, as this was often misunderstood as, was shamed as a thing only stupid people do. The risk of unwanted pregnancy is too high. Women who use this method are cited as being reckless, and idiotic when they were surprised by a pregnancy.
But the issue is that this perception of sloppy, stupid, women was a way that culture had misinformed us. It was sneaky, and technically correct, which made it worse.
By dressing the rhythm method up as an irresponsible method of birth control, they have used fear to prevent us from learning more about our bodies. The reality is that the thermosympto method of birth control is as effective as the birth control pill. When you take into account human error for both methods. This means they’ve lied to us. Whos they? ah, you know.
By taking away the deliberate method of us knowing about our bodies, they take away a direct feedback mechanism for us to get in touch with our bodies, with nature, and with the universe. I’m mad about it.
I spent most of my adult, menstruating years fighting against my cycle, instead of listening to its rythms as a beacon of truth.
Now through my cycle, when my modern life allows, I listen to the intuition given to me. When I’m bleeding, I deliberately slow down. When I can, its for a whole week. I do a lot of journaling and reflecting. I open myself to visions and accept clarity and direction. I’m an antennae at that point, and if tuned correctly I can recieve grand downloads.
Tapping into my creativity during menstruation is easiest when I have built space for it. this cycle, the space came unexpectedly. I’m on a Navy training mission, and my period hit on Friday. which means I have the weekend to feel out what I want to do. Right now, I want to be alone, reflect on my gratitude for my cycle, and recharge. Having the opportunity to do that doesnt always happen. When it doesnt, I try to take just 1% for myself. It can be as simple as an intentional breath, but I often try to make it an hour or two, in nature, doing yoga, or leaning into my creativity without bounds. I embrace the imperfect, and I give myself whats available. When I’m follicular or ovulating, I am blossoming, and interact with people, and want to share in all of the abundance. I find it easier to focus at work, and make some of my best progress on projects I dreamed up when I was bleeding.
When I hear women exclaim that they love their IUD because they just dont have to deal with a period anymore, I feel sad. They’ve been tricked into believing their period is a burden. Something they’ve been cursed with. When I hear that I want to preach, and spread the good word. But its true that its easier to trick someone than convince them they’ve been tricked. And in this case, their indoctrination came from their mothers and sisters, and was reinforced by their experience. When you fight your cycle instead of embrace it, the information can come across as pain, discomfort, and altered moods.