Periods Are F*cking Awful: A One Woman Rant About Why You Should Care about Her Luteal Phase (No, Seriously)
When I was 16, beyond being scared of tampons and having occasional back pain, periods meant nothing to me. Fast forward 12 years (that hurt to type) and, aged 28, periods have become - and sadly I mean this - a hot topic.
I check my Flo app regularly and the word ‘luteal’ has become a well-known and well-feared phrase in my household.
You see, as I’ve got older my periods have got worse. At first, I didn’t connect the dots. I didn’t see the patterns in the days where I felt miserable, or when I got bouts of acne on my chin (I just cried into the mirror instead). But, over time, I was forced to. I started to realise that these weren’t one-off incidents, but, actually, symptoms that occurred - near enough - at the same time every month. And so, the pain of being a woman steered me into the arms of the period tracker apps, and waiting in the sidelines for me was the internet’s - unexpected and sudden - interest in menstrual phases.
In fact, the internet’s fascination is what got me writing this in the first place, because imagine my surprise when one day, I saw, in one scroll, not one, but TWO reels from instagram boyfriends saying how understanding their girlfriend’s menstrual phases had fundamentally transformed their relationships. After all, if Dick and Dom from Tick Tok can see the importance of phases, maybe I too should start treating myself differently accordingly to where I am in my cycle? Crucially, I am not talking about just the menstrual phase, i.e when you bleed, but all the other phases around it - and how they too impact my life.
Before we get into that though, we need an overview of what I’m talking about. So, let’s do it. Let’s get into the nitty gritty of what happens during a Menstrual Cycle.
First of all there is the Menstrual Phase (Days 1-5) which is the period. This is the when lining of the uterus sheds and exits through the vagina. I will affectionally call this the fuck-this-hurts stage. The bleeding can last up to 8 days, but typically goes on for 4-5 days. Some people can have light bleeding, or, if you’re like me, you’ll bleed like a son-of-a-bitch. Combined with anaemia (somewhat common if you have heavy periods) not only are you battling the pain of cramps and back ache, but also, sometimes, you will feel like you’ve gone on a 5-day-bender. Sometimes periods can come and go without notice, but other time it’s a real endurance sport. You bleed on everything (pyjamas, bedding, the floor, every toilet seat ever) and you feel tired and emotional - all the fucking time. Period pain is different for everyone - and some people may have an easy ride - but for other people, it can feel truly awful. But, hey, at least workplaces are set up to help women deal with period pains. Right?
After this, we have the sweet sweet post-period Follicular Phase. During this, the uterine lining begins to rebuild and a follicle in the ovary develop an egg. And, more importantly, you start feeling like a normal person again. Your oestrogen levels begin to rise, and your energy and mood follows. No longer are you losing blood and hissing at any person who enters your personal space. In fact, you may find yourself very very ready for people to *really* enter your personal space - if you know what I mean. For a lot of people, this increase in oestrogen can lead to increased sexual desire, mood and confidence - i.e a Good Time had by all.
Next, comes the horniest phase: ovulation. This is when the egg is released from the ovary and travels down the fallopian tube. This is truly time to get down to business - with contraception if you don’t want a baby, because this is you at your most fertile. But with the increased risk, comes the increased fun. During this phase, oestrogen is at its highest and many people experience a peak in desire and arousal.
After this, if the egg isn’t fertilised, we have the (personal) worst of them all. Put your seat-belts on. It’s The Luteal Phase. The Luteal Phase occurs after ovulation and prepares the uterus for a potential pregnancy. That’s the science fact. The personal experience of the luteal phase is much more full of pain and sadness. I am being dramatic, of course, but sincerely, this is a tough point in the month. Progesterone levels increase which can cause a decrease in libido for some people (read: do NOT plan Date Night during this time) and common symptoms include mood swings, irritability, anxiety, fatigue, bloating, breast tenderness, headaches, skin breakouts, and feeling so hungry you could eat a moose. Not to mention, for me anyway, a mahoosive dip in my self-esteem.
The luteal phase, as weird as this feels to say, has become a really hard part of my month. I feel so very sensitive during those few days. The world feels abrasive and I have to work so much harder to not get hurt over things that would never normally scratch the surface. I feel spotty, and tired, and bloated - and I avoid mirrors like the plague. Social activities that fall in this week never feel as enjoyable. And, once, I found myself consecutively watching the animated Brother Bear films and literally sobbing about them for hours after. I am taking the piss here, and there is definitely a comedy factor because it can feel so absurd, but, in reality, riding this hormonal rollercoaster is genuinely exhausting.
The thing is with this time of the month, you can often realise that what you’re experiencing is hormone related - but that doesn’t change the intensity of it, just the understanding. It’s useful for me to look at my app, see the “you’re in your Luteal Phase” notification and nod to myself - but it doesn’t stop me from feeling crap. I was talking to my friend about this recently and we both agreed, sometimes it can feel like a switch being flicked in your head. A switch that triggers an onslaught of self-loathing and sensitivity, at the same point every month.
I’m not for one second trying to pretend that the above text is a comprehensive or a universal summary of the menstrual phases - because it’s not. I haven’t mentioned so much, and it varies so massively person-to-person. I could speak for years on the fluctuation of self-esteem and confidence that period phases bring, or how the spikes and dips in your libido impact your relationships, or how tiredness impacts your workouts and career; there are so, so, so many nuances. Not to mention that every single person’s period is SO different. Some people may read what I’ve said there and nod vigorously. Others may read it and think I don’t know what the fuck I am talking about (which is 97% true most of the time) but it doesn’t really matter, because, generally speaking, what I’m trying to say is that periods can really influence the way your body and mind feels. In fact, approximately 70-90% of women in their reproductive years experience some form of premenstrual symptoms, with about 30% experiencing symptoms that are bothersome enough to be considered PMS, according to research.
So I really hate to say it, but maybe the Insta boyfriends are right. Maybe people who experience periods really do deserve different, compassionate, treatment at various points of the month. Women are so resilient - and our bodies experience so much pain and change throughout our life. It truly is, and I do not mince my words here, fucked up how much we have to go through. From periods, to pregnancy, to menopause, we have to get SO used to our bodies and our hormones knocking us sidewise. But there’s the crux: we do get used to it. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel here. This just feels like the cards you’re dealt if you’re born into a female body at birth. What’s the point in complaining about it? What are you gonna do? Not work every time your uterus decides to shed? If you’ve got generational wealth - maybe. Otherwise, not an option. You crack on, and you shut up.
And here-in, I feel, may be the issue and the answer.
When I was young and I got my first ever period, I saw the blood in my pants and I met it with shame. I told my Mum it had happened like I’d just committed a crime. No one told me how to insert a tampon, or that my boobs may hurt, or that there are other symptoms to think about - because, sometimes, it just feels like this dirty act that you talk as little as possible about. Alongside this, when you’re a teenager, lines like “someone’s on their period” are thrown about anytime any girl is upset, or angry. Admitting to PMS feels like an invitation to be invalidated.
But I don’t think shutting up and getting on helps. I think we should own it. I think we should feel able to verbalise the pain and discomfort we have got used to experiencing every month - to friends, partners, teachers, workmates - you name it.
The gender health gap feels so infinitely huge sometimes. Within my work at a Boudoir studio, the conversations I have with women around menopause, post-natal depression, endometriosis, vaginismus - you name it - are so eye-opening and important. They are validating and affirming to hear what I - and so many others - are going through is real, and difficult. These conversations are so necessary.
I used to feel so guilty about not wanting to have sex during certain points, or feeling so tired at work due to my anaemia and my period, or feel insane when I cried at a milk advert, but this is how so many people feel. Maybe through talking about it openly, and honestly expressing when we feel sad or in pain, society will start to understand the day-to-day challenges of periods, and all that comes with it. And maybe, as crazy as this sounds, the world will start to accommodate to that.
Maybe work will understand if your productivity is a bit lower one week, and your partner will get it if you need some personal space another? Maybe - more than that - we will start to develop an awareness with our body, and it’s needs, that haven’t been buried and repressed by years of societal shame? Maybe we’ll understand that during our luteal phases we may want or need more food, or that we may want to take it slower? And maybe we’ll know to plan the arduous activities into the ovulation stage and go at a steadier pace during Shark Week? AND maybe, just maybe, we won’t have to pretend that nothing is happening beneath the surface - and our bodies, and the pain we suffer, can even start to be acknowledged?
Written by mag founder, Jessica Blackwell
