You wake up in the middle of the night because of slight discomfort in your waist and pants. Your waist feels like it’s freezing, and your upper body feels dislocated from the lower body.
You curl yourself up in a ball and snuggle up to the blankets, but the coldness won’t go away. The pain and discomfort are getting much more intense, and you have no choice but to open your eyes and look at the time on your phone. 03:14 am. You frown as the pain stings you again, and you can’t help but sit up.
You feel a drop land on your underwear, and your mind suddenly starts overthinking, “It can’t be it! Not my period! It’s way too early! I’m only getting it next week Friday.”
Finally, you become brave enough to pull off the blankets and shine the phone’s torch on your bed and legs. Behold! There is one light red blood stain on your plain white sheets. Your heart sinks as you notice that your trousers also have a dark red blood stain.
Someone else would panic, cry and immediately go to the doctor, as they have spotted blood on their private parts. Of course, bleeding is stressful. But, you’re a woman. You know this, you go through it every month, yet you still can’t get used to it.
Slowly, you stand up and make your way to the bathroom, and get in the tub; the hot water feels warm against your stomach as you bathe. When you’re done, wash your stained pyjamas and sheets, then dry them. You slip into comfortable clothes and boil water so you can cuddle with the hot water bottle till you fall asleep again.
In the morning, you must wake up, and try to get through the day. You’re bleeding, in pain, and you’re highly uncomfortable. People expect you to be normal, happy and active, and so you do because if you don’t, you’ll be accused of being moody. You have to smile and work through the pain, try to meet deadlines, make copies, copy this, delete that, all the while bleeding and trying hard not to burst into tears.
People look at you weirdly when you rush in and out of the bathroom at work.
“Are you okay?” They keep asking. You know they mean well, but their questions annoy you even more. You want to be left alone and work. Diarrhea gets too much, and you know going to the toilet is the only time you get a moment’s peace, and the pains stop, at least for a while anyway.
You gulp down painkillers like crazy and drop your head for a minute, wanting to just burst into tears because it feels like someone is cutting your body in half with a saw. You collect yourself, “I’m okay”, you try to convince yourself, knowing very well you need a hug.
So, the next time you want to degrade or insult someone by calling them a “Vagina” , think of how strong those things are and how tough their holders must be every month. Be kind to women.
And if you ever see me looking crusty, emotional and unapproachable, hug me. I’ll be needing it, LOL.