I woke myself up this morning, already in floods of tears. Not a good sign at all. I was having cramps, another not so good sign. I wanted to curl up and go back to sleep – sleep for possibly a month or two at least. Another not so good sign for me, that along with my very low mood over the past few weeks and a definite increase in headaches and migraines. I should have known or guessed at least that this was coming. Blood.
After two wonderful years with no sign of a period or my periods returning, I had resigned myself (rather hopefully too) that my periods had gone and I was pleased. I should point out that for part of these two years I had been on the depo contraceptive injection which actually ended up stopping my periods completely and even though I stopped taking it at the end of 2017 – they had yet to return. Until now and with that I decided I would be heading back to the doctors.
Perhaps it seems a bit dramatic but I haven’t always had the best relations with my uterus or my periods. If I’m honest, I blame this partly due to my body deciding to develop way before the rest of my peers and granting me the chance to feel like I’d been in battle once a month since I was around the age of nine or ten. I coped. After all, it’s what you just have to do, live with the mentality of just getting on with it. Slap on a pad or insert a tampon if you will and carry on with your day. But as I got older they started to affect me more than I realised at the time.
Mood swings. Pain. Irritability. Low tolerance. Decimated self-esteem. Crying – the non-stop crying in fact. Nausea and no appetite at all. Flared-up psoriasis. A significant decrease in my already limited bank account. I know I’m not the only one, but isn’t that the point? We all deal with it differently, in fact, I know some girls who absolutely adore their monthly visits by mother nature. Which is great for them, if I could have a similar relationship with my periods then it would be easier to deal with them.
As women, I think we must all go through our own personal journey in defining our relationship with our bodies and of course, our periods. For my periods and I, our relationship is that we are simply disgruntled neighbours raging war against one another. Most likely because of some minor insignificant instance which forced us apart and allowed a deep underlining hatred with one another. I think I may have pissed it off, my uterus when it heard that I have no intention of carrying any child – ever. Meaning it decided to seek revenge in my choice to make it a redundant organ and rage war with mood swings and all the other goodies which come along with it in this bloody war.
I’m off to the doctor’s tomorrow to talk to my old nurse, Kate, she’s lovely and knows my history. Perhaps I will go back on the depo for a while. I know it and understand it and although last time it made me gain a bit of weight at least I am prepared and I know how to combat that side effect. Or perhaps something else will be suggested, but I think it’s important to acknowledge that it’s alright for us all to have different relationships with our bodies and periods.
Now as I wait for the cramps to subside and the Nurofen to finally kick in and kick those cramps asses, I’m going to curl up with my book. Another J.D Robb, Reunion in Death, the fourteenth in the series while Toaby lies beside my kicking me while he sleeps and Oscar sleeping on my feet because that is the spot he’s selected for tonight. I still really need to get this essay done!