Alright, so — this upcoming part is about feminine issues with healthy and somewhat detailed discussion about menstrual cycles and reproductive health. This is your official warning if any of that talk should bother you or make you uncomfortable in any way — just skip to the next chapter and I’ll meet you there!
I’m sure you remember my adventures on how I discovered I had polycystic ovarian syndrome, how it prompted some potential seizure activity in my teen years, things of that nature. I may not have started my period until I was fifteen and a half, almost sixteen — but it was almost as if my body was impatiently waiting to play catch-up once I finally did start them. Although I could somewhat predict the visits based off the placebo pill window in my packs, they came on quick and they came on strong. If my periods were a pickup line, you’d be giving a phony number away at the end of the night. The cramps were so incredibly painful, and the related back pain was excruciating… I had already begun having back pain more regularly by then. I couldn’t move a centimeter without painting the town red — forget about sneezing or coughing. I looked and felt like Patty Pizzaface from all the excess oil and acne.
Once I finally got myself cleaned up, my flow had already played a cruel game of period tag — and, of course, it would happen to me. As my luck would have it, as soon as I caught up, I had to clean up again… and again… I assume you get the point.
It’s rather hard to go with the flow when you can’t even catch up to it!
I missed a lot of school because of my cycles. They were miserable. I’d always end up anemic for a while afterward from blood loss. It just wasn’t a pleasant experience, not in the least. I missed just about as much work as I did school because of my cycles.
Period.
Hehe… pun.
Bryce helped me out every time I had these struggles by getting me anything I needed, including running to the store. He grew up with two sisters and a mom, he was familiar with periods. So, whenever I would need feminine products, he didn’t skip a beat! One day this happened, my dad discovered the package of maxi pads and box of tampons in one of the bags he brought in.
Well, my dad found it highly inappropriate and detestable that Bryce was buying and bringing me feminine hygiene products — yep. Bringing your fiancé who is just months shy of turning nineteen feminine hygiene products that every single woman uses and is even taught about in normal public-school curriculum, is just completely unheard of. When I tell you I have always been sheltered, that’s the understatement of the century.
But… that would ultimately be one of the less intense of the chaos that inevitably ensued not much later after that happened. He liked that he had control over me, and he didn’t want to give that up.
I used to do this thing where I would go to any lengths necessary to prove my innocence, so to speak. People have commented on it, saying that sometimes it can be perceived as possibly being more guilty — so despite feeling the urge to do so, I stopped doing it. But I just recently came across something from Nate Postlethwait, who I follow on Instagram, that made me feel so much better about that… and it honestly makes so much sense.
No surprise there, I don’t think I’ve come across a post of his yet that I haven’t liked or related to in some way.
The quote said, “People who grow up in unsafe environments will go to extremes to explain themselves or prove their innocence. What others may see as a desperate attempt to be seen or heard is actually an innocent, triggered soul trying to escape the fear of once again being unjustly punished.”
That… hit me right in the heart muscle.
