Periods, Pain, and Perseverance

What no one really prepares you for is how much of menstrual health feels like a guessing game. You’re taught the basics—what a period is, how to manage it—but what happens when your period comes with more than just cramps?" What about the pain that feels unbearable or the symptoms that derail your life? For many of us, these experiences are brushed off, minimized, or worse, ignored entirely. And for those who live with conditions like PCOS, endometriosis, or severe PMS, it’s not just a “women’s issue”—it’s a daily fight for normalcy, for dignity, and for relief.

I’ve had my own struggles with menstrual health, but what really opened my eyes were the stories of the women around me. Friends, colleagues, even strangers—so many of them shared the same frustrations, the same resilience, and the same quiet perseverance in the face of conditions that most of the world still doesn’t understand. These stories deserve to be heard.

Ayesha is one of those friends whose strength leaves you in awe. She carries herself with grace, but beneath that calm exterior is a resilience forged through years of battling relentless pain. For years, her periods weren’t just an inconvenience—they were crippling. The kind that would make her cancel plans, miss work, and retreat from life. “I thought it was normal,” she told me one evening. “I thought all women felt this way.”

But deep down, Ayesha knew something wasn’t right. There were too many days when the pain dictated her life, robbing her of energy and joy. Still, every doctor she saw dismissed her concerns. “Bad cramps,” they said. “Take a painkiller, use a heating pad.” Each visit left her feeling more invisible, more unheard. It wasn’t until nearly a decade later, after countless consultations and mounting frustration, that she finally heard the word that explained it all: endometriosis.

The word gave her condition a name, but no relief. “It was a strange mix of emotions,” she told me, her voice steady but laced with frustration. “I was relieved to know I wasn’t imagining it, but angry that it took so long for someone to listen.”

Ayesha’s days now are a balancing act. She’s found solace in yoga, dietary adjustments, and moments of rest she unapologetically carves out for herself. “I’ve learned to listen to my body,” she said, her tone soft but firm, a quiet defiance against the years she spent ignoring its cries for help. “Some days, I push through. Other days, I let myself stop—and that’s okay.”

Hearing her story made me think about how often women are conditioned to endure pain, to downplay their discomfort, and to push through as if suffering is part of the deal. Ayesha’s words echoed in my mind “I thought all women felt this way. I thought it was normal”. They don’t. It’s not!

Then there’s Priya, who was diagnosed with PCOS in her late teens. For her, it started with irregular periods and unexplained weight gain. The solution? A quick prescription for birth control pills and a half-hearted “you’ll be fine” from her doctor. But Priya wasn’t fine. The pills came with side effects—mood swings, headaches, and a sense of imbalance she couldn’t shake. “PCOS,” she said with a wry laugh, stirring her cappuccino. “It’s like this annoying roommate I never invited, but now I have to live with.” “No one really explained what it was or how it would affect my life,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “I was just expected to deal with it.”

Determined to take control, she began researching alternative approaches—diet, exercise, mindfulness. “It’s not perfect,” she admitted, leaning back in her chair. “Some days are harder than others, but I’ve learned what works for me. It’s all about small victories.”

As she spoke, I couldn’t help but admire her resilience, her refusal to let PCOS define her. “I’ve learned to work with my body instead of fighting against it,” she said, her words resonating deeply with me. It was a reminder that health isn’t about perfection; it’s about partnership—with yourself, your body, and your needs.

Our bodies deserve more than being forced into compliance with quick fixes or one-size-fits-all solutions. Priya’s journey reminded me how vital it is to have real options—choices that are informed, compassionate, and tailored to individual needs. Women shouldn’t have to settle for treatments that mask symptoms without addressing the root cause. Is it still progress, if meaningful options for women’s health remain so limited? It’s not.

Mira’s story is one I think about often. We met in her sunlit living room, the hum of city life faintly audible outside. She sipped on chamomile tea as she spoke, her words measured, deliberate. “The week before my period, I don’t even recognize myself,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “The mood swings, the anxiety, the fatigue—it’s like my body is betraying me.” For Mira, severe PMS wasn’t just physical; it was emotional. It affected her relationships, her work, her sense of self. “I used to feel so much shame about it,”

For years, Mira tried to hide it. She didn’t want to be seen as “difficult” or “too sensitive.” But keeping it to herself only made things worse. It wasn’t until she opened up to those around her - her partner, her close friends that she began to feel less alone. Their support gave her the courage to seek help, and she began exploring therapies that could help manage her symptoms. Magnesium supplements, evening primrose oil, and cognitive behavioral therapy became part of her routine. “It’s not perfect,” she said, echoing Priya’s sentiment, “but I’m learning to be kinder to myself.”

Kindness. That’s a word that resonates deeply. How often do we offer compassion to others while withholding it from ourselves?

Mira’s story stayed with me long after I left her home. It reminded me of how often women carry these burdens alone, feeling the weight of stigma and misunderstanding. Her willingness to share her journey felt like an act of quiet rebellion against the silence that surrounds menstrual health. Is it right that women are left to navigate these struggles alone? It’s not.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from these women, it’s that perseverance isn’t about enduring pain in silence—it’s about fighting for yourself, advocating for what you need, and refusing to settle for less than you deserve. Ayesha, Priya, and Mira have shown me that there’s strength in vulnerability, power in sharing your story, and hope in demanding better.

So, let’s talk about menstrual health—not as a taboo, but as a crucial part of overall well-being. Let’s push for change, support one another, and ensure these conditions no longer remain in the shadows. Because when we break the silence, we pave the way for understanding, empathy, and real progress. Is it possible to build that future together? It is!