A Day In The Life Of A Phoenix

I have no idea what menstruation is like for other women out there, but I’ve come to see some patterns with my own monthly cycle, even though I no longer “have one”.

As many know, I had a full hysterectomy last year due to uterine fibroids. I was already on a wait list to get my tubes tied so when the ultrasound came back showing the fibroids were growing I decided to switch my surgery to a hysterectomy.

There are some things in life that only time can teach and with medical science, it’s no different. They’ve learned over the years that when possible, it’s best to leave the ovaries in when performing hysterectomies so as to not induce early menopause. This means that I still get all the monthly fun of fluctuating hormones, I just don’t get the bleeding.

I have an app on my phone in which I track my periods. I’ve only had a menstrual cycle again since October 2022. For over a decade, I was on different medications that took away my period. The app has allowed me to track my menstrual cycles and symptoms so that even now, when I no longer have the bleeding, I can still see where I’m at in my monthly rhythm.

These days, I find myself more attuned than I’ve ever been. As I get to know my mind, emotions, and body without drugs, alcohol, or psychiatric medications, I’ve discovered that I’m like the moon; every month as my menstruation time draws nearer, energetically I disappear into shadow. As I wane, I get more and more angry before I energetically collapse into lethargy.

Because I’m an avid journaller, I’ve come to see that the emotions that arise during my cycle are always contextual. My lust only intensifies when I’m ovulating if there’s a man in my life I find appealing. I’m only angry during my pre-menstrual cycle when there are actual things in my life that I feel angry about. The emotions are never “just because”. These days a lot of the anger I feel is societal; things I have little to no control over. Where other months it might be more relational; the anger showing me where I feel mistreated, disrespected, or misaligned in my life. I’ve learned that my cycle doesn’t cause my emotions, it amplifies them.

During the phase where my uterine lining should be shedding, the headaches arise, just as they did when I still had a uterus. The final day of what would be my menstrual cycle is often a migraine. By then, I’m debilitated. My energy banks are depleted. My head and neck feel so tight that I just want to pop them wishing it would relieve all that pressure inside.

Migraines, for me, often feel reminiscent of being on my deathbed. I find myself crumpled over, pleading: “God, please help me, I have nothing left to give”.

I know that sounds dramatic, but that’s how intense the fatigue, nausea, and pain are when they hit. Every month, it seems, I make peace with the maker, in full acceptance that this could be it. I can’t function. I can’t think. I let my body and psyche collapse into utter darkness. I turn out all the lights. I silence all the sounds. I keep my blinds closed; my bedroom windows blacked out. I can’t use screens. I often bind my head in a tensor-like bandage—a method my yoga loving mother once taught me. Everything in my life becomes whitewashed over by throbbing pain and nausea. For me, nausea is one of the worst ailments as it almost always brings back memories of being poisoned as a teen, from my numerous suicide attempts.

Then it passes.

By tomorrow I know the pressure will have lifted completely and the Phoenix in me will rise once more. My energy will be revitalized; I’ll wake up with more vigour, more strength, and even more resolve.

Every month this cycle repeats.

Every month I rise until I reach a peak of full luminosity and then I wane, just like the moon; needing my dark cave to collapse into. And really, it does feel this way—this intense and contrastive—because each time my inner moon begins to wax again, it feels as if I’ve just cheated death. It’s humbling. It reminds me of my own mortality. And fortunately, I do have a beautiful cave I can hide out in, as well as a lifestyle that can accommodate the fall and rise of a Phoenix.

I’m not quite waxing into the light again yet, although Gravol, Tylenol, ibuprofen, and sleep have managed to ease my symptoms enough so I could at least write. I slowly feel myself moving away from the shadows, trusting, always, that the sunlight is curving ‘round the bend.

Soon, baby girl, soon, you’ll rise again. 🌒🌅🙏

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Art As Therapy: “Moon Cycle” (2023) by Amy Frank