When I think of the word “relationship,” I think of a harmonious partnership. I think of a collaboration of things working together to coexist. Up until about a year ago, I would never have used any of that terminology to describe my relationship to a period, a menstrual cycle, or to the idea of any sort of positive union. As far as I was concerned, I was damaged goods, forever having to wear two tampons at a time. The memory of bleeding through my favorite hand-me-down grey dickies pants during my eighth grade class trip to Washington DC, is still as clear as it was 15 years ago.
There is no irony in the fact that I am writing this piece in March — the month that has always been known to me as Endometriosis Awareness Month. But if allowed, The Universe, and The Feminine always have a way of working out; it’s just a matter of divine timing.
In March 2018, when I was 28 years old, I had my fifth and final laparoscopic removal of endometrial adhesions. At the time, I didn’t know my relationship with my body and cycle was going to change. For years I had felt like my body was at war with itself, and the truth of the matter is, it really was. I do believe in Western Medicine, and I am entirely grateful for the doctor that I have found, who has been willing to work alongside me in my health evolution, instead of against it. The reality, though, is that my body has been screaming at me for years, and I just didn’t how to listen.
By August 2019, I was in more physical pain than I can ever recall. It was as though I had glued my identity to the diagnosis that I had received at 16. I was spinning plates at a job that was disingenuous to my authentic self, and I was living on 2400mg of ibuprofen daily just to get by. I continued to ignore my body’s sounding alarms to pay attention and listen. In turn, this led me to make a decision to start series of Lupron injections, a very powerful hormone therapy used to treat endometriosis. This was something I had known about as a treatment option for a long time, but in my heart I knew it was the wrong choice. But when you are desperate, you will do desperate things. After one month and one set of injections, I knew being a 29-year-old woman in a chemically induced state of menopause was not the life I was willing to live. I had hit my previable “rock bottom.”
In November 2019, I found myself in an integrative therapist’s office, spewing about spinning plates, and the copious amounts of physical pain I was in. The identity of my endometriosis was evident, but now, in hindsight, my fractured relationship to my womanhood was even more obvious. As I unturned stones of my childhood, the one that glistened most was the underlying guilt and shame that had been ingrained into me. Hating my period and my “broken body” was just the side effect.
I won’t lie and say that the integrative approach sat well with me. It was not the path of least resistance, and I couldn’t make sense of it at first. Regardless, I had nothing to lose. I started with addressing the childhood traumas, while tapering off the first round of medications I was on. In a nutshell this consisted of hormone therapies, antidepressants to counteract the side effects of night sweats and mood swings, anxiety medications to sleep, and vaginal suppositories to deal with the lack of estrogen in my body. Tapering off of these took months and didn’t come easily, but slowly as the medications left my body, the physical pain started to lessen. I was learning that the shame and guilt needed to be seen — validated even — and I was the only one that could do this.
After nine months, I knew that the job I was working was no longer benefiting the life that I wanted to lead. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the why, but I learned to trust my intuition this time around. I leaned more into nurturing my body, versus fighting it: “What was this diagnosis trying to tell me?” I asked, instead of “What was it doing to me?”
I was finally willing to accept that some of the things I was unconsciously doing were actually keeping me “sick.” And unfortunately, the lack of union between mind, body, and soul was feeding the illness.
My narrative started to change; the story in my head that I had always told myself was evolving. I lived less out of the logical space and started to find balance living in my feminine. I just had to decide what that meant to me. I explored foods, and starting using a functional medicine approach. It was less, “I can’t eat all these foods because I have endometriosis,” and more, “if I eat these foods, I am nourishing my body.” This also meant my relationship to food had to change. In order to do this, I focused less on the outcome of the meals that I was preparing, and started seeing cooking as a creative outlet; again, more in the feminine energy space.
By November 2020, I had been cycle-charting for three months. I still had a hormonal IUD, and regardless of what the western world of medicine told me, it had enough hormone for me to feel the difference systemically. I knew that removing it was going to go against my original treatment plan, and I still had a lot of learning to do, but for once I took the bet on myself and leaned into trusting my feminine intuition.
As I started doing more things to feed my soul, I noticed that my body and mind followed suit. I started diving deeper into cycle charting, understanding the entire menstrual cycle, and not just the week that that I bled. I opened the dialogue with my friends, both male and female, and found that teaching my partner about what I was doing was actually quite fulfilling. I started living more “in my cycle” and treating it as a guide, versus a threat. This consisted of eating, exercising, and fully understanding the hormonal impacts of living in each phase of my cycle. How amazing is it that every 28–30 days you get to start again?
Removing the IUD was not just a physical action; it was the last missing piece in reclaiming what was always mine to begin with: my divine feminine.
This practice is something that I will have to nourish and feed for the rest of my life. As with any relationship, the union with my womanhood will take consistent work. This will require physical pushes, mental checks, and also listening deeply to the intuition that has been within me this whole time. I’ve stopped viewing my diagnosis as a crippling, painful disease, and started thanking my body for sounding the alarms. All along, she knew what she needed; I just needed to lean in and witness it.
I no longer dread my periods, my cycle, or any of the aspects of being a woman. I own them, I am them, and they are me.
Together, in union, I have learned to take the power that was always mine to begin with back. I no longer identify as suffering from endometriosis, but rather accept when it signals something is off. I need to listen. I can tell you now that it will be my life long journey to help heal myself, and other women living out of sync with their stories. How this happens is still in the works, but I have learned to trust in the divine timing, and have faith not only in my story, but in the lived experiences I have been gifted.
