Witchy Girl over on her blog was asking about how and whether other women honoured their moontimes/menstrual cycle/curse. I know it’s very unfashionable in the Goddess community to call your period the curse but for me it was.
For me my period was 2-3 days of hell on earth when I had one. It was not something I choose to honour especially when the whole damn system tried its best to kill me. I didn’t start having one until I was 16 and then began my life in hell. 2-3 days every month I had such bad cramps nothing touched them and Ibuprofen wasn’t invented then. The only thing that ever caused any relief at all was hanging upside down for which my father called me the bat. Otherwise I was prone on the cool bathroom tile, trying to decide whether to throw up or let one of my other orifices evacuate. So, yes, I hated my ”monthly visitor” and “Aunt Flo from Redlands” or “The Red River Valley”. I wore two, count them, two extra large Kotex on a belt pre the kind you know stick to your chonies. And those belts were your own kind of hell if you sat on the spiky hook end wrong.
No one will ever get me to believe that having a period was a blessing. I am a lesbian who worked with children long enough to know I never wanted to have them except to spoil a friend’s kids. I always thought there should be an opt out button and in 1996 at 42 years old, I got my wish in a big way. I started having non-stop pain and non-stop periods and I looked like I was going to give birth any moment when I’d never had sex with a man. My GP at the time refused to do anything about it other than to do an ultrasound and tell me I had fibroids. I know my body and I knew something was seriously wrong. My GP said I might change my mind and want children? So I was just going to have to wait for menopause, uh, no. I called my insurance carrier on call nurse who gave me a referral on the spot and got a Dr appt the next day on a Thursday. BY then I was so big they couldn’t do a proper ultrasound. The four days later I had emergency surgery. My new gynecologist told me if I hadn’t had the surgery I would have been dead in two weeks. The fibroids were strangling my intestines and bladder and would have gone gangrenous very shortly. They had to reconstruct a lot of my innards and find an ovary that had gotten lost. An normally short surgery took four hour and many months to heal from the reconstruction.
So there will never be a love affair here with my lower female parts. I will never ever think that honouring your moon time is a fun idea. That was thought up by women who don’t get cramps and don’t pass clots the size of pieces of beef liver.
I went twice to Z Budapest Goddess 2000 camps and I enjoyed the first one enough to go back again the year she wrote her book on the Fates and everyone got divided up into Maiden, Mother and Crone. I was told I should be by virtue of my age I had to be in the Mother group. The Mother group informed me and the two other women who had been spayed that we shouldn’t even have been allowed in camp because we had allowed Western medicine to mutilate us and that we were no longer women. Really???!! Seriously??? So we went to the Crone group who didn’t give us any shit about it. It pissed me off and it still does.
There is a lot of folklore about how powerful you allegedly are when you are on your period. Somehow I never felt powerful while hanging upside down from a bedpost or yacking to the porcelain goddess. I just felt horribly ill. Being a Crone and not being prey to my cycles made me feel much more powerful than ever having a period did. So, NO! You will never hear me say worshipping or honouring moontime is a sacred thing. It was a bloody, messy, painful craptastic time. The first month after my surgery I skipped down the feminine supplies row I was so happy not to be buying $10 (1996 remember) a month on sanitary supplies.
SO NO! I will never honour my period. It isn’t necessary for ritual purity! I honour my lack thereof and now that most of my friends have joined me in Cronedom, I hear a lot of sighs of relief and I have yet to hear anyone say they miss having one. So bring on the hot flashes and power up your own personal tropical vacations! It’s power surge time!