Day 1 - "I still have yesterday's jumper on, which smells of cottage pie"

 The wait is over, Aunt Flo is here.

For the past couple of days, I've experienced a light bleed. I normally get my period in the early hours of the morning, but this month has been a little different; I'm late, aching and more tired than usual.

When Alexa sounded at 6.30am this morning I knew of two certainties: 

1. I did not have the energy to turn the alarm off, either verbally or physically.

and, 

2. The dogs would need to be walked in the torrential rain.

Luckily, my husband sleeps right next to Alexa so was able to put an end to her song immediately and understood my groan to mean nope, not today. My husband can be quite perceptive like that, he seems to know when I need this extra time to relax. It doesn't take long for him to fall back to sleep, and despite my efforts to join him, I find myself watching the rain against the windowpane.

When I eventually get out of bed I try and get myself back into my regular routine of coffee, exercise, and then work. But things are a little slower for me this morning and I find myself curled up on the sofa clutching my drink and rubbing my back. When I eventually drag my carcass upstairs to put my workout gear on, I notice a few bruises on my legs and one on my elbow. I have been clumsier than normal too; dropping a teapot over the weekend, landing a kettlebell swing to my right-leg yesterday, and hitting my elbow on the door frame in the early hours of the morning. I'm not sure whether I've always been this way, or whether I'm noticing these things now because I'm being more observant of my "pre-menstrual" behaviours.

I schedule two workouts today, which is ambitious, to say the least. I managed to get through an hour of weights, cardio and resistance and then had the most excruciating cramps. After the cool down, I ironically ran to the toilet and draped myself against the radiator; removing the warm towel from the heat and placing it on my stomach. My go-to is always heat and I've been known to blister my stomach from a hot water bottle.

Day One.

I count today as day one because the few days leading up to this point haven't been very noticeable. Sure, my appetite has been through the roof, but there has been hardly blood. Most of you will know what that means, wiping yourself after you've been to the loo and gazing down at the white tissue for a "blood check". I have come to call the light days "crossover days;" my inner-autumn, which is metaphoric really, as the shedding of the uterus (endometrium) prepares me for my "proper" bleed. During my crossover days, I want food, warmth, security, love, protection, reassurance, and appreciation. I am Veruca Salt. 

Now, I want to be left alone.

It's late-afternoon and the dogs have not been walked, I still have yesterday's jumper on which smells of cottage pie, and I have not taken any pain medication. I feel angry, hurt, lost, lonely, and afraid. I want to run into the kitchen and grab the medical box from underneath the kitchen counter and pop more than the recommended daily dose of Ibruprofen. I want to quieten this pain, and I want more than anything to feel numb. Instead, my body is tense as I write this entry and the only thing getting me through this is knowing that a warm bath awaits. 

I have never experienced a period free from pain medication. From the age of twelve, my periods had been so horrific that every month resulted in a GP visit where I had to explain (to a man) how badly my periods affected my everyday life. I've shown sanitary pads to GPs, visited hospitals, and even had a nurse examine me for an ectopic pregnancy at the age of fourteen, despite my efforts to persuade them that I was a virgin. Each month the school grew tired of sending me home, GPs grew tired of giving me more pain medication, and I grew tired of not knowing why my body was punishing me. It was the GP who made the decision for me; placing me on a contraceptive pill at the age of fourteen with no answer as to why I was experiencing these problems. Or whether they even were problems! The GP solution has always been to prescribe hormones to young women to suppress and quieten the menstrual cycle and then silence its rhythmical patterns. At the age of thirty-five, I still know women who are on the contraceptive pill since menarche, and my heart breaks for them.

I was twenty-one when I was diagnosed with Endometriosis. 

Twenty-seven when (my only) fertility cycle failed.

Twenty-eight when I was told that we may bring a child into this world.

Thirty-four when the adoption agency thought having two dogs would be an unsuitable setting for a child to grow up in.

Thirty-four when I found peace with myself.

And, thirty-five when I began listening to my menstrual cycles.

Despite this horrific pain today, I'm taking comfort in knowing that someone, somewhere, will be reading this and perhaps learning something about themselves. Today, I'm reflecting on the importance of cycle awareness, my own needs and desires, and taking that time for myself.

Until tomorrow (Day Two).