PMS: Pre-Menstrual Shame

*Goddess Circle painting by Molly Roberts

As I am in the midst of creating content for a self-care workshop and summer program, I've been pondering why it feels difficult to ask women to rest for the first few days of their period. Posing this request as a means of self-care feels like a daunting task to do for said women. Why is that? I wondered. 

And then it hit me yesterday as I was showering after my workout (water is grounding so we sometimes get our best insight or clarity when we're in the shower or bath!). 

There is some shame around our menstrual cycles.

And in admitting we have menses, we are acknowledging we experience everything that goes along with bleeding every month.

In the not so far away past, when women were trying to establish a place in the work force and as we continue to become business owners, CEOs, and voicing the need for equal pay, we have needed to assert that we are reliable, consistent, and dependable. (And we are.) To compete in the work world society has established, women have to "keep up" with the masculine way of productivity and prove, in a way, that we have the "balls" and wherewithal to be in charge. And in doing such, we have had to ignore or suppress the feminine flow of cycles that is so natural to us. So we push through, take the pill, create edges where maybe we were once soft, and put on our man-pants. We even sometimes hide the fact that we are on our period by using code phrases like "auntie flow" or "THAT time of the month", because it feels unacceptable to use it as an "excuse" for being tired or more emotional. "Oh you must be on your period" has felt like an insulting remark. I've even been known to buy pads or tampons with a bunch of other products in the hopes that they will blend in or hide, so that even the stranger ringing out my purchases doesn't know I'm menstruating. 

There is a secrecy to our bleeding. We don't often talk about it with our men because we don't want to make them feel sqweemish or have them feel like they need to tip toe around us. And when we realize that we actually need the time to rest and experience the fact that we are indeed much more emotional around this time in our cycle, it brings up some shame. Shame about the fact that we aren't "normal" and can't "keep up" all the time in the supposed standard of "consistency". (Although, we are consistent....consistently more soft and inward when we consistently have our period.. Consistentcy expressed in a different way...)

And here's the thing: we ARE normal. We go through cycles and rhythms as natural as nature, as the seasons, as the moon. Our cycles match the energy cycles of plants, a creative project, of life and death itself. Starting from a tiny seed, growing, blossoming, releasing, decaying, going inward, to once again begin anew as a seed in the earth. Spring, summer, fall, winter, spring. New, waxing, full, waning, new. Conception, growth, birth, growth, death, rebirth. And men go through similar cycles as well, even if it feels a little more subtle than the physical menstrual cycle a woman goes through. Even if you are a woman who no longer physically bleeds, on an energetic level, the cycles are still there. 

So when we deny these cycles, when we hide them, ignore them, and suppress them, we cut off our own inspiration, negate our feminine power, and undermine our own natural wisdom. We become disconnected from our bodies. We develop illness. We start to have crazy PMS symptoms when we don't listen to our intuition, like quitting that job, leaving that relationship, changing our diet, or voicing our needs. We are missing part of our depth. And our bodies and spirits can't take it anymore. I have witnessed in men and women both, but particularly women, a yearning and a craving for a return to a more sacred, natural, deeper way of connecting to self and other. Our bodies are crying out for it. Our souls are hungry for it. 

I believe there was a need to show up like men in the world to make progress in equal rights and create change. I have gratitude for the women who have pioneered this for us. I'm not bashing the pill or saying we shouldn't be out there in the workforce with integrity, reliability, and accountability. But I also feel like now is the time for us to rise...in a new way. For women to reclaim the power in our cycles. No more secrecy or shame. Acknowledging that we are emotional beings. Because HUMANS are emotional beings. And that it is perfectly normal to need to rest. To go inward. To honor the cycles of our energy and body. 

And if we can allow ourselves and our sisters to rest and care for self with tenderness, we also give space for our men to also do the same. When we resist the "go, go, go" of our culture rather then resist the natural rhythms of the cycles of life, we show up in space of self love and presence that is in harmony with our being. And what wondrous ways might we BE and show up, if we surrender and allow and work WITH our bodies?  I predict amazing, great, brilliant, soulfully fulfilled ways. 

A Body-Love Practice: Arizona Lesson

Part of my work in cultivating more self-love has been the practice of loving my body as it is right now… in this very moment and not waiting until I'm satisfied with my body fat percentage, how much I can lift, how clear my skin is, or what my blood sugar norm is.  Here I share a narrative from an experience I had while I was traveling in Arizona in April, where I had a particular moment of despair and how the magic of the hiking trails reminded me of an important lesson: 

It had been a long day of travel.  Going to bed late the night before and weird sleep schedules earlier in the week that caused lingering fatigue had me sleeping through the 6am alarm, so that when I woke at 8 with a start, swearing as I leapt out of bed with sleep still in my eyes, I was shocked that I was supposed to be at the airport right then instead of in my pjs with sleep marks still fresh on my cheek.  Thank goddess for uber cars and for the woman who put me through priority cause despite choosing the slowest security line and my gate being the farthest one away, I was last to board 5 minutes before take off. 

By 8pm that night, after a harried start, not getting my usual amount of caffeine straight away, and with my body three hours ahead still on New York time, I was EXHAUSTED.  The only thing to do, I mused, was to take a hot bath in the gloriously deep tub in the place I was staying, to wash the weariness and travel away, before slipping into bed for a good night’s sleep.

As I disrobed my clothes and glanced at my naked body in the huge bathroom mirrors, disappointment and frustration swept through my emotional body.  It was about a year exactly since I looked at my reflection in this specific mirror and I had hoped I would’ve seen more progress in my physique.  More defined muscles, tighter abs, stronger glutes.  I stepped into the tub and sunk down into the warm, soapy water with my paralleled sunken optimism.  “You preach about loving your body and here you are hating yours,” an inner voice said to me.  Ouch.  That critical and disapproving voice was right and it hurt.  As I submerged myself beneath the suds of bubbles and scanned my figure as it went under the surface, another much more kind and wise voice said, “You have the body of a goddess.”  With a sigh (and a roll of the eyes at how OF COURSE my inner wisdom would say something cheesy like THAT!), knowing that much of the disappointment was due to utter exhaustion, I gave myself the task of practicing self-love, especially because it felt REALLY difficult to muster in that particular moment. 

So I took time lathering, shampooing, conditioning, shaving, pondering.  When I emerged from the tub feeling clean and warm and soft, after gently toweling myself dry, I began to moisturize my entire body, but this time, with intention and purpose.  With each place that I slathered on and rubbed in my lotion, I whispered to myself what I loved about that body part, no matter how difficult it was to come up with something.  No matter how simple the reason for the love.  Not moving on until I declared something and truly felt it.  Without my glasses on, so that my view in the mirror would be softened with a new type of vision, I began from the bottom and made my way up:

I love my feet because they walk many miles and connect me to my mother the Earth.  The arches of my feet make me feel sexy when I’m barefoot and I adore having my toenails painted a sassy red.

I love my calves, my ankles, and my large knee caps because they remind me of my dad.  I have my dad’s knees.  My dad’s legs. 

I love my muscular thighs and glutes because they are thick and strong and sturdy.  They help me lift heavy things and carry me throughout the world with ease and grace.

I love my wide hips because they are child-bearin’ hips.  My hips help hold babies on them.  My hips allow me to express my sensuality when I sway, dance, swivel, strut.  My hips hold my pelvic bowl – my place of feminine power and creativity.

I love my soft belly because (and this was a hard one) she graciously has been a landing pad for all of the needles that are necessary for my sweet nectar, my insulin. 

I love my core muscles that lay under my soft belly because they are strong and allow me to move my body in expressive performance storytelling. 

I love my breasts because they make me feel womanly and soft and nurturing and sensual. 

I love my chest because my heart is there.  My tender loving raw human heart.

I love my arms because they hold space, hug, carry, lift, support, serve, express.

I love my hands because they are healing hands.  Hands that bring light, hold broken hearts, create flow, restore balance, touch.

I love my long neck because it reminds me of my mom.  I have my mom’s neck – a luscious, feminine, throat-chakra-holding neck.

I love my lips, my mouth, my freckled cheeks, my nose, my blue eyes, my pale skin, my wildish strawberry blonde hair because they make me feel beautiful.  Sometimes glamorous beauty.  Sometimes natural beauty.  Always expressive beauty. 

And by the time I finished, I felt better.  More beautiful.  More patient.  More loving and understanding towards myself.  And with the promise to be more gentle with my self-judgment, I slipped on my pajamas and pulled down the covers for restful, rejuvenating, comforting sleep.  With a promise to work at loving myself right now in this moment exactly as I am.

As the days followed on my vacation and as I clocked in 30 miles of hikes with my man, the trails on the mountains reminded me of an important lesson in patience and self-love.  My tendency on the hikes, and sometimes in life, is to rush out of the gate and only be focused on getting to the end FAST (many times complaining about the difficulty and the burning in my thighs the whole way! Ha!).  But as I spent each day hiking and connecting to nature, I found that it was more about the path and the time spent BETWEEN the start and the finish.  The time to breathe deep and enjoy the scenery around me, the sweat on my brow, the company of my love, and the simple, deep fact that, despite what I thought I saw in the mirror on my first night, I AM stronger and I HAVE made progress.  The point of this life isn’t to sprint into the grave, but rather to enjoy the climbing of hills, the downhill depths of the valleys, the slow strolls, the restful spots, the joyful dances, AND the hardcore sprints (when appropriate) through this glorious and precious life.  And when I'm enjoying the JOURNEY rather than the DESTINATION, I can begin by loving my body in this moment.  In this breath.  Now.  And now.  And now. 

Broken Open

I couldn't help myself and I wrote another piece about the journey I went on during a Breathwork workshop I took on Friday (I foresee a future anthology chronicling my healing adventure with Breathwork!).  I share this because I want to show up in a vulnerable, honest, authentic way.  I am here for you, just as you, in reading this, are being a witness for me  We are in this together and I am evermore grateful for that.  

again
on my blanket
taking up my spot
in the dark room
my monthly therapy session
with a community of seeking people
as a groupie of Erin's
and her ability to hold nurturing sacred space

even as we practiced the breathing
before we began
my body started to tingle
goosebumps in anticipation
of the deep soul work to follow

belly, heart, open mouth
with oils helping centers swirling
belly, heart, open mouth
we began our descent 
into our being
as one
belly, heart, open mouth

it began fast this time
a few moments into the breathing
tightness in the solar plexus 
and a breaking open of the heart
as a cry broke forth from my lips
and hot tears streamed out of my eyes

not much thinking this time
a few sensations in my body
visions in my mind's eye
and a breaking open of the heart
as the breath moved from 
belly, heart, open mouth

first flashed images of my puppy
and my heart broke open with love
for his adorable playful sweetness

second flashed images of my man
and my heart broke open with sadness
for the distance in miles between us

third flashed images of my dad
and my heart broke open with grief
for the stolen time cancer took from my grasp
 
and in between moments of breathing
belly, heart, open mouth
I sobbed
and sobbed
and sobbed 
belly, heart, open mouth
I wept
and wept 
and wept
belly, heart, open mouth
for the little girl who had lost her daddy
and for her sensitive body 
not knowing how to handle such pain
belly, heart, open mouth
for the grown woman who still grieved
and for her sensitive body
finding healing in the allowing of such pain

images of hospital gowns
sterile hallways
and the losing of red, curly hair
memories of his grin
sparkling blue-eyes
and the thinning chemo body
visions of his healthy years
comforting bear-hugs
and the fading sound of his voice
flushed through my consciousness 
as I breathed and cried and wailed
quietly, deeply, loudly, simply
belly, heart, open mouth

and then my energy started to feel lighter
the music changed
dear prudence by the beatles
the band who reminds me of my dad
"the sun is up, the sky is blue
it's beautiful and so are you"
and I grinned
and laughed
and cried happy, joyful tears

for the good times
and the blessings
of having such a loving father
even for a short time
feeling him there with me in the room
wrapping me in a warm blanket of love
and holding my hands
as my heart broke open with gratitude
with the realization
that he isn't actually gone
but is with me all the time
in my cells
in the color of my eyes and hair
in my broken-open-for-more-love heart
 

Image: *Astor Place* by artist E Falco

as we returned to normal breathing
peace filled me
and gratitude for the space
and the place
and the time
and the safety
of the nurturing nest of breathers and healers 
to mourn
to express
as loudly or as quietly as I needed to
feeling all the feels 
that had been stuck inside
as my inner guidance
gently inspired me to hold space
for the same in you
grief circles
a new calling 
a new healing
using breath
to open our hearts for more love

Follies of the Fool

A few weeks ago, with the anticipation of April Fools Day, I was scheming up tricks I could play on my social media networks.  Faking that I was pregnant, announcing I was engaged, proclaiming a move to Australia…. thinking such silly ideas, I began to reminisce fondly about April Fools past.  

When my dad was alive, April Fools Day was a bit of a tradish…. a holiday we would warily and excitedly await with a mix of dread and mischief knowing that by days end we would be left with the result of some epic stories to share once we'd survived the day.  Not disappointing us, my dad would go all out: giving us trick gum that colored our teeth red, strategically placing fake ants along the wall by the coffeepot that looked real from sleepy eyes first thing in the morning and sans glasses for the nearsighted members of the family, moving the position of our beds while we were sleeping in them, hitting the spare garage door opener from inside the house as my mom was attempting to leave in her car, hiding a stink bomb sneakily under the toilet seat that caught the unsuspecting victim in a cloud of rotten egg stench.  He even went so far one year to set all the clocks in the house ahead one hour and calling my mom on his lunch break at the "usual" time so as not to have us suspecting until the moment my mom thought she'd be late for a girlfriends' date.

I'll be honest: I HATE getting tricked.  Walking around being on your toes with a sense of dread while tentatively moving through the day as if someone where going to pop out at any moment and say "boo" is not my idea of fun.  I'm gullible, jumpy, and easily taken by surprise.  Practical jokes and pranks are the bane of my existence.  But as I was thinking back, my dad was never malicious in his attempts.  He never meant to cause harm or lingering damage to the psyche.  It was playful.  Fun.  A witty game to bring some excitement to an otherwise normal boring day.  And actually we loved to regale all the tales of woe to our extended family after the fact (no damage was done!).  Which got me wondering…. perhaps there is something deeper and meaningful about this silly holiday.  Which inspired me to reflect on April's FOOL.  The Fool.  What about the essence and character of the fool can we take away and use as a greater lesson in our lives?

Image: "Golden Rain" by Victor Nizovtsev

In order to learn more about this archetype, I reached out to my friend and fellow healing artist Elyse Jolley (check out her work here.  She's a gem!).  Elyse has done extensive work with the archetypes in her theatre work, using song, journeys, breath, and movement to explore characters and she was able to enlighten me about our glorious fool.

The fool, she says, is unpredictable, entertaining, intelligent, shrewd, witty, deceptive, manipulative, pleasing, eloquent, gracefully clumsy, charming, and playful.  In many of the stories and locations where the fool (also known as the "trickster") shows up, he is a commoner, a servant, poor.  Dressed in rags or peasant clothes, he relates to the common man.  With a witty intelligence and clever thinking, his strengths lie in the mental mind, putting on a show, playing off of others, and keeping things light instead of too precious.  Through juggling, storytelling, practical jokes, acrobatics, songs, satire, and quick response, the court jester performs to please the audience; reading them and using creativity to give them what they need.  In Shakespeare, the role of the fool could play to both worlds in terms of social standing by speaking to the level of the higher class while making the groundlings roll over in laughter with physical comedy. 

The fool's game is a Simon Says-esque "maybe!… maybe not!" type game that Elyse says is really fun to play because its a mysterious, dodging, playful energy that is constantly moving and shifting directions in a zig zag of ways.   Or, on the other end of the spectrum, the fool energy can be completely still outwardly whilst the scheming and plotting mind is whirling and ready to jump into action in a moments notice.  Light on the toes and never linear in a straight line, the fool never gets stuck in a pattern, is never the underdog, and is always a survivor.   

Elyse also shared that in the tarot, the fool is "walking to the brink of a precipice carrying a satchel of possessions which symbolize the untapped collective knowledge that he is bringing with him.  Courageously stepping out into something blindly, yet willingly, with courage and trust that the unbridled awakening within the satchel will be of aide". 

So the fool brings to us this example of playfulness, curiosity, adventure, courage, trust.  Do any of the characteristics of the fool resonate with you?  Where might we need to call on these energies to infuse certain areas of our lives with this spritely and brave energy?  After the cold hibernation time of winter, do you feel stuck in a pattern or a rut?  Where have we gotten too serious and need a little more light-hearted, playful energy?  Where can you bring in your creativity to create the life you want to live?  Where might some tricks come in handy in mixing things up and bringing inspiration to cleaning out for spring?

I'll share that, for me, I think April's fool and the memories of my dad are here to teach me to bring more pleasure and play into my life, especially into my business and healing work.  I have a tendency to take things really seriously and I allow stress and worry to cloud my vision.  Bringing a bit of fun to the tasks on my to-do list, reveling in the sweetness of life, and really enjoying the creation process as I'm growing, healing, and nurturing my projects, rather than being focused on the end result, will help me to feel free and joyful in the day to day.  It's a journey after all and I'm ready to leap off the edge of the precipice into April with trust and courage and bravery.  No tricks about that! 

I'd love to hear from you - send me a note or a comment below!

Light, love, and lots of foolish energy to you on this April Fools Day!