I laid down in bed, turning right left and middle, my fluffy pink water bottle tucked and cuddled by my pale belly, in many ways reminding me of a little child that I do not yet have and whose life blood at the very moment was flowing out of my system. Speaking of my system, it seems to have carted off to another planet.
It was no longer Maya’s and seemed to belong to an alien lady. This was normal I was told and had been told repeatedly. Well at least it was supposed to be normal for us girls only it was the type of normal no one seemed to think talking about normally was normal. They always wanted us to whisper it in hush tones as if somehow, the thought that something as real as blood carrying life that could easily have been a cute boy or twinky pinky girl flowing out of another girl was too much for the rest of the world to understand.
I hated the silence and hated it more because it was us girls that were at the front of it. Twisting all mouths shut that dared to speak out this sacred feminine secret with dangerous warning eyes or sarcastic words. Are you the first woman to see your period? Why are you so dramatic? Why can’t you be strong like your friends.
I had never understood that till this date.All I was thankful for was that today, as my body whips itself out of my control, I was super grateful I had an angel for a boss. I didn’t have to go to work today because my body was already working biologically and surprise ladies…this angelic boss is a man! The very specie we think we are impressing by showing stupid strength when we would rather curl up our little toes in bed and yell out in anger or whimper in tears or whatever emotions our scattered hormones decides to manifests.
Those same species are far more understanding of what we go through than our own selves as females; they are far more compassionate than we often dare to let ourselves or God forbid other women be. They understand when we should be the ones who understand the most. At least most of them do, those of them with empathy do and that thought was just extra ton on the pain twisting my body. I was still trying to understand this need to impress another sex when really we are the only ones living in our bodies…who have to fall apart when our bodies command that we do so and reintegrate when our divine feminine bodies say we should.
In my head I thought even as the pain wrenched my insides, feeling very much like someone was turning a spanner in my intestines, in my head a thought was forming but it went out as the pain increased and all that came to mind was bloody hell this hurts!
All my elegant English went out the window. I turned and grabbed my enchanted belly cream by enchanting naturals specially made for pains like this and rubbed it all over by waist and lower back. My pain filled mind flashed to my younger teenage years when the poor 14-year-old me would cry and beg to die, or speak all the gibberish language in the world, bargaining with God waiting for the worse of this storm raging my belly and whole body to pass by.
My mind flashed to the 15-year-old me, gnashing her teeth in silence all the while trying hard to write her Jamb examinations knowing if I didn’t I would have to wait for a whole year. How I managed to pass that examination was beyond me…wait my mind paused even as I changed my position for a thousandth time on the bed, holding my pink water bottle tighter to my abdomen.
Wait…Why do we not have three days off everything yes including work to mourn the very physical and emotional and psychological pain of losing these precious souls that this precious red flows out of us?
The former thought I had lost came back to my mind. Those women and girls who like to turn themselves to strange aliens by choosing to suffer in silence were not strong at all. My brain was now whispering to my delicate ears that were extra sensitive today for all the drama going on within. They were real cowards. …because that’s what cowards do. Suffer in silence, gnash their teeth’s and hope someone would notice their silent sufferings all the while acting like they do not want to be noticed for suffering so silently. Cowards wear pity me and poor me and matyrhood around their necks like ugly boring necklaces. Strong people speak out and choose a change so the ugly situation can disappear forever or at least get better.
Strong people were the ones who dared to be bold, to have a voice, to speak out. To say I want more, I deserve more, I am getting more. To say I am already suffering, I cannot control this biology thing but I can control that I should be in a good place when it begins. Much like a pregnant woman is better off choosing to be with experts at the time of delivery.
I can control that I am in a warm hot tub with elegant flowers decorating my space when this sacred blood, the ultimate signal of femininity flows out of my uterus…my tubes and of this vagina. I can control that o have a warm fluffy pink towel lying on my waist when the pain gnashes my insides and pulls at my waist, in much the same way I imagine a crocodile would eat alive prey. Only this time it’s not a crocodile is a could have been human. And whether it came out as blood or as a teeny tiny little child, it was going to come out biting my waist in pain and with a gush of blood flowing out of me.
And there is nothing about this choice that needs to be whispered because everyone already know females have no choice in agreeing to this on not. Like it or not our periods must visit…period. All the birth control pills really do is create a messed up system that we later start pleading with the docs to systematize. Those were not my choice as period control system. Best to take this route and scream your choice loudly, because suffering in silence is what victims do, while victors, rise, speak into their storm, conquer break silences and move others to break their silence.
Will you break your period silence darling? And darling gentlemen will you add your even deeper, bolder voices to shatter the silence even more? Of course this call goes only to gentlemen, no lesser man can be part of such a truly noble, divinely natural course. I’m sure you would. This is what is on my period diary this month. Dear Gentlemen do you know what is on the Period Diary of your romantic partner this month? I bet it would shock you if you really call her to you and ask her to be mindful and compassionate to her body. Dear Ladies what is in your period diary this month? What did you experience? WE ARE BREAKING THE SILENCE RIGHT?
THEN WRITE TO ME I WANNA HEAR FROM YOU!
Lots of love and light to you as you do so
Mayanna Maya for enchanting naturals
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Hello!
Thanks for writing this illuminating piece.
I’ll concur that accounting for period stress is a good place to push for inclusion & fairer packages in the workplace & wider society.
Part of our everyday life work must include creating safer spaces for minority voices to speak freely about their experiences and be extended due empathy.
Sending brilliant roses to all soldering women! 🦋
lol..at Tobi you are very funny on the brilliant roses and soldering women`s part of your comment. Yes this is something we really need to speak more about especially among cultures of minority ethnic groups in Africa. All this talk of feminism is really not paying off well on women`s overall health and wellness. I dare say what women really need is more consideration and compassion for their feminine physiologies in the work space and less drama about dragging physical strength with men because that is a space women cannot win in. Biology already stated men as winners of physical prowess.