Yes, I’m going there. Why? Because one of the reasons why I write this blog is the hope that someday, my experiences can help someone else, and it’s also very therapeutic for me to vent. Maybe this isn’t relevant, maybe you’re disgusted by my bluntness. Sorry, not sorry, but it’s time for me, personally, to end the silence. Because really, I caused much of my own grief. By not asking questions. By being ashamed of my own body and it’s needs. By being afraid. I’m still afraid. So afraid. But reality causes me to face my problems. So here goes.
I have been bleeding for the past month. It sucks. It really does. Thankfully, I haven’t been cramping until recently. So, you might already know that one of the reasons why I started exercising more, and ultimately why I fell into the hole that is an eating disorder, is because I hated my period. I thought “hey, I’ve read about athletes who exercise so much they lose their menstrual cycle, that sounds amazing”. In theory, yes. In practice…well, let’s just say it worked and I was happy on that front, but my life was ruined in the process. I got depressed, lost way too much weight, lost my friends, lost the trust of my family. I lost so much for this one thing. It’s so silly looking back, at how much I was willing to sacrifice just so I wouldn’t have a period.
Granted, my period was a nightmare. It was painful and heavy and horrible and I felt all alone, mostly because of my own stupidity. I’m not placing the blame on anyone…I just didn’t know how to deal with myself. I felt dirty.
In my family, it wasn’t typical to go to the doctor. I can recall several instances when my younger sisters went; strep throat, stitches, oh, and then that time my eardrum ruptured. There was that. I also ended up in the hospital around the time I was 11 or 12 with Ecoli-157. But the point is, even though no one ever said anything, I picked up the cue that for the most part, we dealt with things ourselves and just waited them out. So I was prepared to have to do this in my current situation. I couldn’t take it though. And then you know what happened.
Jump forward about ten years and here I am, muddling through recovery with the knowledge that sooner or later, my body would pick up where I forced it to leave off. It did, in January. I was (barely) excited, because I knew this meant I was getting better and healthier on the inside, but I am so fearful. It’s literally like a phobia for me. So I called my doctor up and told her nurse what was going on. I got an appointment and went to see my doctor a few days later.
My doctor told me my options, and warned me I would have to be patient, and let my body do its thing. Ok, I could do that. So here I am, about a month and a half later, and I’m on birth control to get my hormones and bleeding under control. And here is the venting part…
Guys. I have been bleeding for a month. I have a phobia. This is like someone being afraid of spiders, and then being forced to carry a spider with them everywhere they go for a month. I’m not being dramatic here. (Ok, maybe just a tidge, but seriously.)
So where do I go from here? I keep living. I find things to laugh about, such as the pharmacist who is male, and counseled me on taking the pill. I sleep a lot, because I’m so tired. I keep eating, even though I know how to make this stop. And I hope I get a short break before it is time for the placebo.
Is there anyone else out there that wants to vent about their trials and tribulations in the messy world of womanhood? Obviously you’re not alone. And hey, here’s your opportunity to share and be anonymous if you like! Oh! And one more thing, menophobia is real. I’m not totally crazy…yet.