My Soft Rebellion

The silent agony that I have carried for so long aches in my womb. My monthly bleed tells me it’s time to release it.

Like clockwork, about 14–16 days before my period, I feel my body become full. Full with the grief, anger, and exhaustion that I had been avoiding the two weeks prior—and my entire life.

My womb keeps the score; it holds a laundry list of atrocities and releases its suffering in a slow burn leading up to my period. It’s both physically and mentally draining.

It’s interesting how every premenstrual cramp I feel, if I pay close enough attention, carries so much misery with it until it eventually softens.

The way I see periods is like a self-cleaning system—we’re really lucky to have something that physically removes our trauma every month. I look at my period as a reset because of its power to purge, cleanse, and renew.

I pay close attention to the feelings that arise before my period because they are such valuable insights that I can’t see without this veil weakened. 

I am closer to my body before my period; I can feel not just my pain, but my ancestors’ pain inside of me. I feel the silent agony that we have all carried for so long. My monthly bleed tells me it’s time to release it.

I have a theory that cramping is the resistance to this release. Like our way of gripping onto the past with our wombs, meanwhile, our body is literally just trying to be like, “Hey, this is all really old stuff that you don’t need anymore, and it wouldn’t be this painful if you weren’t grasping it so hard.”

(Not downplaying endometriosis or PCOS by any means, but I feel this is an aspect of the emotional monthly pain we feel—not the cause of all of it.)

When I feel especially messed up before my period, I also know it’s because I didn’t take care of myself throughout the month. Alcohol ruins me. 

So does sugar, seed oils, processed food, parabens, polyester, fragrances, pesticides, literally tampons themselves, and any other inflammation-causing or endocrine-disrupting item—so it’s a little hard to take care of myself when life is like a minefield. But some months there’s no effort at all on my end—because I am exhausted…

Since I work a full-time job, and a 9–5 schedule is inherently horrible for women’s health, having to output at 100% capacity five days a week, every week, when my body needs to slow down for two of those weeks basically means I’m in overdrive all of the time—resulting in worse PMS.

But this also prevents me from caring for myself and being mindful of my body in the ways that I need during the day while I’m working. Being in a workplace means I am socially active all day and need to maintain a level of professionalism—I am “on”. 

As someone who identifies with so many neurodivergent traits, doing this is incredibly exhausting for me. Having to pretend to be someone I’m not isn’t my first rodeo since I grew up with strict South Asian parents—and goodness after all of that, I prefer to be authentic. I can only manage a couple of hours before I literally start to malfunction. My face will start to twitch from the forced smiling. 

Not to mention how loud the inner critic gets. My brain is dead set on believing I have been found out to be a terrible, ugly, gross person who’s desperate for love before my period—and it’s not a good look. 

I am horrible to myself, and it takes everything inside of me to cultivate kindness. But it shows me what I still carry—this deep, deep, deep desire to be loved by others, and the propensity to abandon and terrorize myself to get it.

It’s hard being a woman, and even when we have a built-in system that helps us deal with the trauma of being a woman, it’s not honoured—it’s instead ignored because its acknowledgement declares weakness.

But weakness is far from how I feel. Tired, yes. Weak, no. 

My intuition before my period is wild. My ability to see through situations, people, and find real clarity is incredible.

All hats are off once my luteal phase starts. While I am so emotionally raw, I am also spiritually tuned in. I see signs, symbols, messages from God. The pain that I feel in my bones almost feels divine—like something that was given to me just so I could have the orgasmic pleasure of releasing it.

On a side note, orgasms before your period are absolutely insane. I highly recommend getting luteal freaky.

My period is my guide to my inner truth, to the pain trapped inside of me that I secretly adore, and the reality I truly crave.

I tend to daydream about moving countries or working for companies I adored as a little girl during the weeks leading up to it. It’s like it’s screaming at me—this is the life that will make you happy, please let us purge the past and get there!!!

When I do finally get my period, it’s like my body is taking a big deep sigh. I sometimes like to even sit with the cramping I get on the first day and try to relax my muscles as much as I can in my pelvis to help move everything through—because it feels like I am an alien species reconnecting with their roots lol. 

That is, until the pain requires the devil’s lettuce or some painkillers.

(Omega-3 and magnesium glycinate work wonders as well.)

My period used to hold a lot of shame, it was such a taboo topic growing up. I was told I was dirty and I couldn’t touch holy books or step on a prayer mat during my bleed (which I honestly didn’t mind since it wasn’t my thing to begin with). But it instilled this monthly pattern where I downplay my period, and I know now periods are not to be downplayed, they are to be ritualized. 

Since I stopped fighting my menstrual cycle so much and started listening to the messages my body has been saying to me all along—there is pain, but there is also beauty—my life has gotten softer. I’m not fighting natural waves or shaming the way my body works. I just accept it. I’m not built like a man, and I was never meant to perform like one.

I rest as much as I can before my bleed. I eat warm, cooked, nourishing whole foods, and I understand that the wave of emotions I experience and mood swings are not “just hormones”; it’s years of self-neglect pouring out of my body because I can no longer contain it. 

I am not moody, I am not over-emotional, I am hurting. This body is in pain. It needs rest that cannot be provided to it, and I don’t even appreciate myself for the progress I do make. No wonder I am aching so much.

I am so grateful to have a body that has patiently served me all of my life despite my consistent aggression towards it. I love my period. It’s my portal to the other side, to the life I’ve always wanted but could never admit. 

Happy Cycling!