After deciding to come off of The Pill recently, my hormones became a sticking point between my partner and I.
I do my best to keep them in line, recognising my PMS symptoms and working on a routine for how I manage some of the physical pain (wheat pack and some strong ibuprofen to the rescue). But there are situations that catch me off guard. My natural instinct is still to react with outbursts of emotion.
Coming off The Pill threw me quickly into the deep end of hormone discovery. I felt different and not like my usual self. Doing my best to manage with limited information, I knew something had to change, and thatâs when I began spending time talking more openly with my partner about my hormones and periods, and realised it wasnât just me who needed clarity.
Iâve taken sick days because of cramps and blamed it on a cold, blushed at checkouts when Iâve needed to buy tampons, and avoided the period chat with some of my closest friends and family to avoid making them feel awkward.
Often, friends tell me theyâre lucky to get their period on a weekend, because it means they can avoid an awkward conversation with their boss about why they canât come into work, and I know women with endometriosis who experience excruciating pain every month but still feel uncomfortable talking about it.
Periods have been a taboo topic for hundreds of years. They still are. But in recent years, a burst of podcasts, social media, and essays has inspired communities of women to share their experiences.
Iâd love to live in a world where my PMS was nonexistent, where I felt 100 per cent every day, and where the rest of the world was always aware of how I was feeling.
Coming off The Pill
I came off the pill two years ago. My doctor told me it might be a good idea if I was thinking about falling pregnant in the next couple of years. She said it could take a while for my body to adjust and, as became clear pretty quickly, she was right.
Suddenly, my periods became extremely irregular and almost non-existent. I read online about other women in the same situation, and how many of them had used an app to track their cycles. Considering I was just relying on my memory and some random notes on my phone, I had nothing to lose.
The app I used, My Flo, gave me insights into how my cycle was affecting my energy and mood, how exercise could help, and what food I should be eating to manage my PMS symptoms better.
In my rush to find a birth control that worked for me, and a lifestyle that worked along with it, I never took the time to educate myself on what was going on with my body and the hormones I was manipulating within it. Some days I felt irritated, other days I felt over the moon.
Often, friends tell me theyâre lucky to get their period on a weekend, because it means they can avoid an awkward conversation with their boss about why they canât come into work.
One day, I dived in a bit deeper into the app and discovered I was able to âsyncâ my cycle with my partner. Obviously, he doesnât have a cycle, but I wondered if his frustration in my PMS boiled down to his lack of understanding.
Talking about periods openly
For a long time, I didnât think my partner would ever understand what it felt like to be shaken by the waves of female hormones. Sometimes, his lack of empathy towards the whole thing really bothered me, and I worried he only saw me as a moody bitch. Heâd say I was being irrational and not acting like myself.
Now signed up to âexperienceâ my cycle with me, my partner would be sent updates via email, with science-backed sex and dating tips, advice on how he could emotionally support me, and information on what hormones were running the âCourtney Showâ during any given week.
When I first told him about it he was curious, but not convinced. Particularly when I explained heâd be receiving the information via an email update. Heâs not great at checking his personal email at the best of times, and he was upfront about this, but I still got annoyed at how quickly he dismissed the idea.
I mulled over our conversation for a day, until I realised something: It wasnât the fact that he didnât want to know more about my periods that was bothering me. I was just approaching with email, a form of communication weâd rarely use in the first place.
It wasnât just my partner I wasnât communicating with.
A few months ago, I realised my PMS-induced mood swings were affecting my social life, too. My energy levels would fluctuate, and I would agree to go to things I just didnât want to be at. I found it hard to say âno,â and even when I did say ânoâ it would come as a shock to people. They would ask me âwhatâs wrongâ and tell me that I wasnât acting my usual happy self.
I began overthinking what my friends thought of me, and felt like I was letting them down. Still so fresh in my mind, there was one morning when one of my best friends asked sincerely: âYou donât seem yourself.â
Those words struck a major chord and I broke down. I had just got my period, had work piling up, and hadnât been sleeping well. I was keeping everything bottled up.
Realising this was a major breakthrough for me. Not only did I need to talk, I was comforted by a friend who could relate. It was a stressful time of year, leading up to Christmas, but everything I was feeling was heightened by my hormones. Until I started to accept and understand that was happening, nothing ever felt in my control.
Once I began learning more about my cycles and understanding the science behind it all, I felt less anxious, and finally in control of my body. It didnât stop me from losing my shit every now and then. But it did change my attitude towards it all.
Now, I let those close to me know when Iâm leading up to my worst weeks, so theyâre aware that Iâm going to be extra sensitive. It is not, obviously, an ideal situation: Iâd love to live in a world where my PMS was nonexistent, where I felt 100 per cent every day, and where the rest of the world was always aware of how I was feeling. But that reality isnât how things are just yet. Weâll get there eventually.
For now, Iâm working on a few small changes: If I snap, Iâll walk away, and then explain to whoever I snapped at that I didnât mean it and Iâm feeling extra hormonal. Iâm working on feeling confident saying ânoâ to social occasions when I really just need some alone time.
Talking to your loved ones. Monitoring your cycle. An app. I know it sounds so simple, but the key for me was realising that I was lumping complex emotions into generic explanations, or phrases that just werenât helpful.
âOh, itâs just time of the monthâ Iâd say. Or âIâm not just feeling that great.â
Once I started to understand more it became a lot easier to communicate why I was acting and feeling the way I was.
Now, my partner tries to understand whatâs actually going on in my body and accepts the fact that sometimes I am going to cry about nothing, or speak like I have daggers shooting out of my mouth.
Instead of keeping him at a distance with period chat, I embraced his caring nature and took the time to communicate the actual biological reason why I was feeling or acting a certain way. Our relationship, I think, is stronger for it.