It’s Monday morning, my alarm is blaring at me, insisting that I drag myself out of bed, but I just can’t move. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids have become like locked lead shutters, and my body feels heavy. Despite the fog I’m lying in, I’m mentally screaming at myself, “I have to move. I have to move. I. HAVE. TO. MOVE!”
My period has started and—once again—I am exhausted. Despite the lethargy, I’m still expected to function like a man!
I’m still expected to get myself and the kids ready, handle the school run, and head to work—even though it is taking all my energy to get out of bed.
I’m still expected to keep my house looking like my kids haven’t just whirled through it like a freaking tornado.
I’m still expected to keep up with all the school admin, the party invites, the gifts to buy, the school theme day that requires a costume, the never-ending mental load…
But I’m exhausted.
The Survival Shift
After getting the kids off to school and nursery, I worked eight and a half hours on Monday. I had to drag myself physically and mentally through the day just to survive. There’s no productivity on days like that, just guilt and shame that because I’m tired from my period starting, I am not ‘earning’ my wage.
I can’t help but think how much better we would be if women were given the flexibility to take even just one day a month to recuperate and restore—without the fear of it counting against us or being seen as a weakness.
While some might see this as an unfair advantage, the simple biological reality remains that women have periods and men do not.
The Female Tax
In the 27 years since my periods started, I have already experienced roughly 330 periods! If a period is six days long, that is almost 5 1/2 years! And we all know many women have longer periods than that.
I’m not weak, I’m just fed up!
Fed up with being told this is just part of being a woman!
Fed up with feeling so exhausted, but expected to function as if it’s not happening.
Fed up with jumping through hoops trying to be taken seriously—feeling worse with every cycle and being told there’s nothing wrong now, even as my monthly cycle becomes irregular.
Fed up with just being offered more birth control, because that ‘magic pill’ will make everything better…
The ‘Magic’ Pill
I spent years on the combined pill, not realising until I finally decided to come off it that it was contributing to why I felt regularly depressed, only to have my experience invalidated and told by doctors that it doesn’t affect women like that.
In an effort to feel better, I had switched to an implant in my arm. To my dismay, this brought on a whole different issue to deal with: three years of near-constant light periods. Once again, I was given the ‘magic’ pill to take as well, only to be served another horrible side dose of depression.
It wasn’t until recently, when a female doctor suggested I take the pill in conjunction with my Mirena coil, that I finally felt heard for the first time. She acknowledged my fears and agreed that some women do experience depression when put on the combined pill.
At almost 40 years old, I would like to have the autonomy to skip contraception altogether. Still, the reality remains that I do not want to get pregnant again—nor do I want to suffer through any more pain, sickness and heavy periods every month.
It’s time women weren’t just brushed off with “Oh, it’s just what happens to women!” and more talk about how women can actually be helped through these monthly and transitional changes.
It has taken me nearly 27 years to realise that having periods isn’t just something I have to suffer with in silence.
Nearly 27 years without any real advice on what could help ease me through the monthly transition.
Nearly 27 years of not really knowing that there are different stages of a woman’s cycle beyond the fact that we have a period, are fertile around ovulation time (apparently mid-cycle), and that when we don’t conceive, we repeat the cycle again.
The sad truth? I am 100% sure I am not the only one.
Reflections
I realise in these moments, when I am feeling exhaustion from my period, that I need to be kind to myself. To not push myself too hard into a further state of exhaustion. To not berate myself. To not feel guilty for simply needing rest.
Having a daughter, I want to be more open about periods and not feel ashamed to talk about them, so that when the time comes, I can speak freely and support her through the trials we experience as women.
At the beginning of this post, which I have now edited, I had actually written ‘that time of the month’. That is how conditioned we are to feel shame in talking about it.
I never want my daughter to feel the embarrassment I feel. Even when I am talking to other women about it, I find myself looking around before I speak, talking in a hushed tone—which is ludicrous, because we are all living with periods.
It is not shameful. It is not something we should feel the need to hide.
I want a different future for our daughters—one where they understand their bodies in a way I wasn’t taught to understand mine. That starts with us being honest about our experiences today. Our cycles aren’t a ‘weakness’ to be hidden; having a period is not shameful, it’s a biological reality that deserves to be respected. We deserve to be heard, helped, and understood, rather than just brushed off.
So, if you’re reading this from under the duvet, feeling guilty for needing a moment to breathe—this is your permission to stop.
Even if it’s just for five minutes before the chaos starts. We aren’t weak; we’re just carrying a heavy load, and it’s okay to just exist sometimes.
Author’s Note:
I just want to point out that I am in no way a medical professional. I am just a woman, sharing my honest experience, hoping it reaches even just one person.
If you have felt unheard or want to better understand your own cycle, check out the following links:
I’m definitely going to check them out and make a conscious effort to improve my knowledge—not only for myself, but for my daughter, too.
The Ruminating Mum 