The Rage in My Womb

I had an amazing experience with my womb during my most recent bleed.

In the past, I’ve treated cramps as an opportunity to practice being in labor. I’ve practiced relaxing, softening, letting go with the sensations. I’ve practiced focusing on them with my whole being. I’ve found it to be pretty constructive—there’s something freeing about not trying to wish them away. Suffering is resistance, after all.

This time, I tried something akin to this but with a more receptive lens. Having been listening to stories of German New Medicine healing through conflict resolution, I took the opportunity to pose some questions to this symptom: when did this start? What was happening at that time? What is unresolved?

I don’t think I had painful cramps at menarche. I’m not sure when they started, but I think it was in high school. I remember lying on my parents’ bed, each of them holding an ankle and pressing the pressure point there that can bring relief.

I placed my focus where I felt the sensation, and I listened to what my body had to say.

(This is a skill I’ve been developing over the past year with my somatically-focused therapist. I shared this story with her and thanked her for helping me learn how to listen to the sensations and emotions in my body, thus enabling me to have this experience.)

What I heard from my uterus was very distinct tantruming. She was yelling and crying about many things that were unfair. I listened with compassion, gratitude, and awe. I was almost ecstatic to be hearing from her directly.

I would not describe the experience as painful.

It reminded me of when a sensation comes up (e.g. in therapy) that “wants” to be allowed or explored, in the form of an emotion. The feeling often starts out as discomfort—and then, when allowed, it erupts into a totally bearable emotion, which then passes quite quickly and leaves clarity in its wake. The alchemy of somatic work.

So it was with these “cramps”: as I listened, my attention was not on the sensation but on the message. And as it passed, I felt clarity and resolution. I had to overcome my usual resistance a few times to allow this process to unfold, but it didn’t take too long before I was back asleep.

In the morning, I felt resolved, like something important had transpired. I also felt in tune with my body, accepting of its need for rest after the cathartic ordeal.

What if what my body needs for menstrual health isn’t the right combination of nutrients, hydration, movement, herbs, and meditation? What if it’s just to be listened to?

The only difference in my experience of my menstruation this time around was that I stopped telling my womb to be quiet and leave me alone and let me sleep. Instead, I held her and I heard her words and her anger, and I asked her to tell me more.

And by golly it worked! Highly recommend. Might also work for babies fresh out the womb. Stay tuned for that chapter.

I’ve been working with acupuncturists (including needles and herbs) for the last few months, tending to my symptoms both of hormonal imbalance and gut dysbiosis (which, in my study of fertility, I’ve learned are intimately related).

There was some progress: my digestion got better overall, and I had notably easier cycles, both premenstrually and while bleeding.

Then I hit a plateau…

With all of my nourishment and movement (and transition away from working nights), I was in probably the healthiest state of my life (except maybe my yoga teacher training year?).

I decided I’d done enough to try to fix my body, and maybe it was just time to let go and allow my next couple of cycles to be as painful as they needed to be—maybe they’d be my last two cycles before getting pregnant, and then things would be different. I’ve heard that pregnancy can sometimes cure endometriosis.

I was also watching my cycle’s timing very closely, eagerly awaiting the moment when my flow arrived two days early (as it had been lately) and I could shift my digital 🩸 calendar such that my wedding day wouldn’t correspond with the first day of a cycle. 😅

Instead, the bleed came on day 29. 😒 If I have another 28-day cycle, I will in fact get married on day one of my next cycle. 😩

But fine. At least it wasn’t any later. I’d rather get it over with than have an 18-hour cramp marathon on a plane.

So I felt relief and celebration at the arrival of the blood, plus curiosity about how the sensations of this flow would be. I felt the familiar ache coming on distinctly as I listened to pregnant women share in a Village Prenatal circle. It felt right to be holding my womb as they held theirs, swollen in different ways.

As I enter my final cycle before the wedding, I am celebrating the “Last Egg” and marveling at the passage of time through the body. I’m more ready than ever for whatever unfolds. Thank you, body!