Period
Why does the word “period” have to have so many meanings? A period is an ending to a sentence or a sentiment. “I don’t want to discuss it anymore, period. End of discussion.” A period is a defined amount of time. “When I was a junior in high school I had Geometry during my third period.” If I could spell better I would use examples describing various historical times like the “Neanderthal Period” or the “Elizabethan Period”. Then there is the dreaded “time of the month” period. The euphemism we girls all learned when we were still in grammar schools. Who the hell wants to say “I am menstruating” when you are 12 years old? It is easier to just say “Oh shit, I just got my period.” And I have been saying it that way my whole life. The “period” of my live with a “period” is not approaching the big 40 year mark. Yes, when I celebrate turning 50 my “period” will celebrate torturing me monthly for 40 years straight with the rare exception of two 9 month gestational “periods”.
I hate my period. Oh, I cannot complain to my female friends who due to cancer or other illnesses requiring hysterectomies. That would be rude. But then again, I have never shied away from being rude. So, it seems that something that has taken up such a large part of my life should be a part of my blog history as well. I was 10 years old when it hit me. It was excruciatingly painful every month. I was double over for the first two days. My friends would immediately know because I began walking like their grandparents who were suffering from severe osteoporosis I tried to keep my head up and my back curved in the most peculiar way as I managed down the school halls. It was awful. It was regular! It was long (7 days every fucking month). Soon, the physical ramifications were nothing compared to the mood altering psychosis that would inhabit my body. I became like Regan in the exorcist and it was just as ugly! Head spinning, vomit spewing, cussing and threatening anyone who even thought of being in the same room as me.
Then as the years progressed and I entered the work force, my period became part of the company newsletters. I remember yelling at total strangers in the middle of meetings “I can’t, I have my period”! They would stare at me in amazement and fear and I loved the feeling of being empowered and not giving a shit about anything including my job. During the five years I worked at the Boys & Girls Clubs of Chicago, I had one close friend, a club director, who said “Benita, you are either getting your period, have your period or just finished having your period”. He even gave me a funny plaque about it.
For a few years after the two pregnancies the “periods’ seemed to lessen in the pain they caused but the vicious mood swings the week before seemed to be getting worse. I was tinkering on the edge, literally. I thought I was going crazy. For no apparent reason I had no patience at all with my kids. The smallest thing would set me off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Finally, I was able to address that issue as well with the help of medication. I refuse to let anyone (Tom Cruise included) tell me there are not severe implications from hormonal activity in women’s bodies. Now that I have the mood issue under control it seems the stomach aches are rearing their ugly heads (I won’t go into detail) and have been joined by back aches. Oh, and the one symptom that has never ever changed in 40 years, I get so tired I could literally sleep through an earthquake. I will pass out for 16 hours. I get so tired I can’t describe it. I will fall asleep in the middle of a party, while having sex, while walking the dog, on the toilet, in my chair while typing an entry into my blog…..
Well you don’t have to be a brain surgeon to figure out why I chose this topic today. I have my fucking period!
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