It is not women’s day or menstrual hygiene day.
It is just a regular day in my life. At least from the outside.
Only, nothing about it is regular…
…despite patriarchy commanding it to be that way!
I present today, PMS.
Before I begin, let me warn you this piece may be confusing to read.
Just like everything that is happening inside my body is confusing to me.
Yes, it doesn’t matter at all that I hit puberty 21 years ago and I have had regular periods every single month since December 2000.
Yet, MOST months, a few days before I start to bleed, it is uncontrollable, inexplicable chaos!
What is worse, is that this chaos could be occasional or regular or completely absent sometimes. And before I realise it, another month begins!
Do you feel exhausted?
I haven’t even gotten to the actual part.
The unpredictable actuality of PMS
I could be a zombie, dead-walking and getting through my routine.
Or I could be a Rockstar, dancing through my day, accomplishing tasks like there is no tomorrow.
Or I could be one in one second and another in the next.
I could be having a meltdown…
…while watching a comedy show,
if someone gives me a compliment,
or constructive feedback on something,
or when a particular song plays,
or when I look at my face in the mirror,
or when my brain tells me that life is meaningless and a burden,
and that my existence is unworthy!
I could freeze…
…where my fingers don’t move on the keyboard,
or my legs cannot stand up,
or my brain becomes numb,
or my whole body is too heavy to move.
I could be so full of energy…
…that running in high speed doesn’t calm my nerves,
or dancing to the best beats isn’t tiring,
and screaming into a pillow does nothing but hurt my throat and head. (This is really confusing!)
I could be ready…
…to scratch someone’s face for something they said, (even I don’t know what that might be),
to punch someone for breathing too hard,
to scream if I hear a loud sound,
for another meltdown if someone asked me why I said something, or if they breathed hard!
This is the emotional aspect of it.
The physical discomfort is another dimension.
They come and go in waves.
Cramps in the lower abdomen, that may go to the thighs and legs some day, Headaches.
Hunger pangs.
Cravings.
Then,
My stomach rumbles but the rest of the body is nauseous, repulsive to food and the smell of food.
Ice-cream or a creamy shake seems like a good idea, but three sips later it wants to get out of my system.
A cup of warm, ginger tea feels comforting. But one cup later, there is bitterness and bile reflux.
But I don’t collapse…
…cause patriarchy forced me to build myself that way!
I put up with all this drama, but I am strong so I don’t collapse.
I don’t want to be strong though. I wish I collapsed. I wish all women collapsed every month.
Then there would have been a cure for PMS.
For our hormones. And their unpredictability.
That is PMS. My PMS.
Another woman could be experiencing something completely different. Or nothing at all.
So the next time you see a woman expressing herself ̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶’̶a̶b̶n̶o̶r̶m̶a̶l̶’̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶, she could be experiencing PMS.
Sure, you can go ahead and joke about how it may be ‘that time of the month’ and feel proud about your great sense of humour, but now you are at least equipped with the knowledge of the PMS experience. (I hope!)
About how half of this world’s population lives minus the same privileges as you but with added burdens.
