Member-only story
Being a woman hurts more than just physically, and I know it.
When hormones hijack my mind to live life like it’s the luteal phase forever.
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Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and hormonal mood disorders. Please read with care.
Iam five days late. But the storm has already started; not physically, not yet. Except for the cramps I’m feeling now, as I write this. Mostly, it’s emotional — deep and invisible. In my chest, my throat, my bones. There’s this quiet, uncomfortable knowing that something’s off, that something’s coming.
But why? Why this emotional tidal wave before it even begins? Why am I always the one who feels too much? Why does my body break, cry, and bleed for reasons no one else can see? Maybe it’s the weight of being a woman. And maybe that’s just what we’re supposed to feel.
Today, it was something small that cracked me; a moment that wouldn’t matter to anyone else, but hit when I was already falling apart. It made me want to fold into myself, be invisible, and disappear before anyone noticed what I was sure they’d see. No one said anything. No one did anything. But my body felt foreign, like it belonged to someone fragile. Someone weak.
