Once a month, my world ends. I mourn and I grieve a week before the chaos hits – and I spend the next week bleeding. And then, it’s over. All of it; my peace, my pain, my worry. I’m vividly myself again at the cost of my entire existence. Because once a month, my world ends.
There’s nothing like feeling as if you’re dying to realise what you actually value in your life, that’s why I’m grateful for my period. When else are you met with routine physical suffering that strips you of not only of your normality, but your uterine lining and a whole lot of blood? It’s during this process that something cool happens, I seem to care less about the things I thought I cared more about. Because when you’re bleeding, that task you’ve been putting off has moved to the very bottom of the To-Do list.
For me, having my period helps clear my busy metropolis mind. Suddenly, I’m every woman that’s ever been, for generations, since the very beginning. Suddenly, I’m in survival mode. And my assignment that’s due can actually just wait.
I like to imagine menstruating as the act of removing the veil that masked the horrors that were there the entire time. That veil to me is quite womanly, it’s the mask we all carry, it’s the smiles we wear from the get-go, but I’ve found that what is underneath that mask is something much more Woman. It is strength.
Most people think of their periods as some unfortunate thing that leaves you weak and shredded and ill – and don’t get me wrong, it makes me incredibly ill, but I feel the strongest I’ve ever been. Because when your body feels weak, your mind takes over and makes up for it; mine does overtime in this respect.
It concludes all my loose ends and burns them out, tying together only my strongest ropes which I can grab onto knowing I won’t break, and knowing I won’t fall. Because it was never about the ropes, but how I believe there is still something to hold on to.
Clarity is what I get out of scheduled ache, my blood is a sign of what is important. So, what is there to worry about anymore? I’m already experiencing pain, so nothing can hurt me out of the blue when I’m already living in deep red.
In a way, I’m invincible. And maybe it’s a good thing that it only lasts a couple days, as a life of constant pain – so usual that it becomes the new norm – is a dangerous life to lead, one that all women have handled since the beginning of time.
Once a month, my world ends, and I rediscover myself at my core. At my worst, I manage to retrieve my best, as my Earth goes up in flames.
3 responses to “38. Once a month, my world ends.”
This is a very interesting point of you dear Georgia. I really hadn’t thought about my period this way before. Keep up the great work. Sending kisses.
Appreciate you!
😘😘😀😀