PMS and mental health

Losing all sense of enoughness and safety once a month.

Is the cycle meant to feel like that?

Why do some experience their cycle this way?

What might be the danger of the influence of the spiritual bubble?

Did you know there’s scientific evidence showing that parasympathetic function drops significantly during the luteal phase—after ovulation and before bleeding?

May this empower every bleeding being to understand its not their fault, they are not doing it wrong.

Now that being said, get ready for a good dose of system critics mustard served from an abolitionists bodyworkers witch perspective.

People keep telling me to tend to the seasons within, to slow down.

Capitalism keeps telling me I’m important, indispensable — an idea that seeps into my personal relationships, making me feel like I can’t cancel, can’t withdraw.

This narrative is built on constructs —

dependency, imposed by the state;

guilt, perpetuated by the church.

So now I rely on something outside of me to tell me what I’m allowed to feel

— and therefore, how I’m allowed to act.

And when I want to cancel, I don’t just feel guilty — like I’m letting down my relations and the world around me — I feel like a worthless piece of shit cause I am once not in service to something or someone.

What a world we would live in if all the refined skill for care would fill our own baskets, water our own roots, warm up our own bellies and caress our own chests?

And now it’s all paradoxical. All the pulls of what I should or shouldn’t do coexist, depending on which outside opinion I listen to.

What happens to me when there is multiple opinions, systems transgenerationally interwoven with my DNA and the missing of community and connection - I fall into chaos.

How inconvenient — to have nothing to give because grumpy chaos I am, yet wanting to be held in this state of not-knowing-what-I-need-ness.

Staying with the discomfort — without fleeing into future plans or falling back into old coping strategies. But it hurts. It hurts when your body and brain scream that you’re worthless, ugly, and that there’s no good waiting for you in this world.

How are we supposed to bear that?

We can’t just unlearn capitalism and patriarchy overnight. Hundreds of years have separated us from the the knowing that we are nature. We no longer tend to nature — we try to domesticate her. Just like we try to domesticate ourselves. Trying to domesticate our bodies, our wombs, our tongues.

I hear my siblings from every part of the world remembering a truth beyond the trauma in our DNA and the pain created by supremacist thinking of my forefathers. I hear you. I please us to keep remembering. We will remember this world back into interconnected freedom.

Nature — wild, muddy, dark, moist, dangerous — is abandoned. Dangerous. Uncontrollable. Can be made use of. Therefore needs to be destroyed. The racial logic behind othering enables structures and behaviour, system and thinking to harm her, to domestiacte her, to make use of her. The way we kill nature being home to other species and home to other human, the same way we try to kill cycle, kill inconveience, kill the ugly. There is no space for messyness in a world obsessed with virginity and purity.

So we abandon the ugly women. And of course when I feel ugly, I abandon myself. And beyond that I expect the world to abandon me too. If I am ugly there is no use of me. If I come empty-handed to the table I will be outcasted. So I better optimse and improve so I wont be alone in the dangerous forest.

Let that land for a moment, if you dare. That the logic of separation is enabling all systems of oppression to continue.

Back to PMS and why some may experience it as the end of life.

Welcome to women’s circles and tantric bubbles on instagram and other platforms of advertisement and marketplace — seemingly all so beautiful, so maiden-like, so pleasure-filled, blooming women and cycle - diagrams, which are romanticising winter.

But what if winter is just dark?

What if it’s not about painting that darkness with glitter, but learning to be okay with the insignificance we may find there?

The biggest fear of the modern human - to be mondanely insignificant,

What if it’s not about fighting my own insignificance? Not about fighting for my survival as if being insignificant would mean death, to be important in the eyes of others — my relations, the system?

What if I’m just boring? What if no one likes my posts, no one wants to date me, if I don’t feel attractive, am not the smartest nor very funny — don’t meet society’s norms of beauty? And what if… that’s okay?

We’re prolonging the mindset of our white forefathers — this entitlement.

This compulsive need to be everywhere, to do everything, to dream bigger, to manifest more. A healthier body. A deeper community. But what if we’ll never find it on the other side? What if we find it in the moist, the ugly, the insignificance? What if the real transformation lies in not fighting impurity and death?

Yes, maybe I will never find some things. But what if I spend my whole life believing that the grass is greener elsewhere — keeping my nervous system in a state of flight from the now, haunted by the tomorrow — and I miss the whisper of God through it all?

As I write about PMS, I realise: In the spiritual scene, sometimes psychological suffering is seen as the result of one’s own creation. As if I’m fully responsible for every feeling, everything I suffer. As someone who struggles with psychological challenges, I’ve carried guilt for years. I didn’t take my symptoms seriously. One reason for that were spiritual concepts. I cried in secret. I compensated in shame.

Wondering alone: what am I still creating for myself, unconsciously? Why am I still not making it?

Instead of getting support by opening up — stepping away from shame that wants me to suffer alone — I stayed silent. Shame kept me from a chance at healing.

Shame keeps us knowingly in separation, when it’s in connection where we heal. When it’s in creation where we move out of depression. Shame keeps us in separation from ourselves, from others, and from the earth. Shame works as complicit to capitalism, church and patriarchy — complicit to shame and guilt — enabling oppressive systems to keep existing because we don’t realise our united power.

Ah, the sacred menstrual cycle. I love it. It mirrors all of existence. It reminds me that I am nature. That time is an illusion. That every month, it teaches me about life.

But these lessons — delivered within a system so far removed from cyclical living — ofter overwhelms me as in the lesson is too big to be carried by a domesticated nervous system in a domestiacted world, separated from nature and community.

When inner autumn makes you fear the future so much. When the coming winter feels like death itself… And you think you are a worthless, unimporant and forever lonely woman, then it’s hard to romanticise that season into orange leaves, surrender, and pumpkin soup.

The danger I see in the seasonal analogies is that we overlook the real struggle of those who bleed — our colleagues, friends, family, neighbours, lovers.

How can we support them?

Maybe by not just reminding them they’re in autumn or winter. Maybe that feels like they’re not being taken seriously.

And those mixed signals — “Why don’t you just pause?” They can create more guilt. Guilt for not doing it “well enough.” For not being able to just speak up against capitalism. But pausing is hard when your parasympathetic system is down, and your sympathetic nervous system is in full fight-or-flight.

More listening without the approach of trying to fix. Letting those PMS ing ones know they are not alone, they are loved, hey are worth care and sweetness.

A hundred years ago, people believed in “hysteria.” Women weren’t taken seriously. No precise diagnosis. No compassion. The "treatment"? Removal of the uterus.

Capitalism loves that shit. Now the beast can work linearly, like a proper worker should. The cycle is demonised by capitalism and patriarchy alike. A woman doesn’t always want to be sweet, kind, serving. She needs support. She’s beyond any role you’ve tried to define her through. She is uncontrollable and when she withdraws from all the underpaid or unpaid labour and care she does that the whole damn systems falls apart.

As much as I see big parts of gender how its understood nowadays as socialised constructs and I dont pay into binarity (definetly not existing on a biological level)

plus it also seems as just as another construct of control to me -

I still feel like writing the upcoming part.

Those qualities which are associated with healed masculine and healed feminine, they can be embodied by every being in this universe.

Presence, integrity and direction as some healed masculine qualities.

Intuition, compassion and sensing of the body as some healed feminine qualities.

It doesnt matter which body feels more drwan to embody which of them. It may change and be a mix, a constant fluent moving individual combination, if one dares to listen and step beyond assumptions or expactations. In case that is save enough to do in ones environment.

To me it just occurs so true that in a beautiful symphonic dance they work as a natural force towards wholeness and against burning-out by the symptoms of hyper-individualism.

Men — grow up. Stand tall enough to hold a bleeding woman going through what you call “crazy.” If you dare to listen, what she speaks is rage against the system. Her tears are for the injustice she sees. She is a portal for all of us.

If we could keep telling bleeding ones how loved they are — beyond efficiency, beyond beauty — how cared for they are, how held they are, how utterly safe they are— how they can rely on the earth and receive the light of God when they can’t see it themselves —

then she can be the portal to dream new worlds into being.

Because she sees so clearly all that must die.

All the injustice, the hustle, the untruth, the old, the sickness. She sees what is not yet in integrity in this world, in relationships, in the micro- and macro and it makes her roar

or sometimes freeze in eye of the devastation.

Men — grow up and remember your emotional capacity to be present with a fully cyclical tribe. Stop playing boys fighting for the biggest sandcastle.

Your portals are not just graceful elven women in long dresses offering their dark blood back to the earth while singing lullabies. They might also be creatures, the wisest of the tribe — in crone phase, in winter, in bleeding.