Throughout my teenage years I was mostly free of menstrual pain. Only a few years ago did I begin experiencing regular discomfort. Whenever my friends shared symptoms related to their menstrual cycles, I would make negative comments about what it means to be a woman. I had latched on to the general belief that such pain was normal, and that us women are subject to suffering once a month.

It seemed easy to believe that Eve’s “original sin” of eating the fruit God had forbidden had condemned all women to menstrual pain. The media is constantly telling us that we have flaws and that monthly discomfort is normal. Perhaps it was these thoughts, and my lack of consistency in countering them, that led me to believe that there wasn’t much I could do about the discomfort. I had surrendered to what I believed to be my fate. 

Early one Sunday morning I was awakened by intense abdominal pain. I couldn’t move freely, sit, or lie face down. That day I was responsible for covering for one of my colleagues at work, but I didn’t feel well enough to go. A wave of negative thoughts hit me: anguish about being a woman, guilt about not being able to go to work, and fear people would feel I was irresponsible if I didn’t. It was clear to me that this entire mental landscape was not conducive to, or supportive of, healing. Had I spoken with my friends about this, they would have recommended medication to alleviate the pain. But I wanted a permanent healing, not temporary relief, and to be at peace, with this false belief lifted from my thoughts.