Why I’m Pro-Period

It seems like every second woman I know no longer has a period due to some form of hormonal birth control. And I understand why. We were raised in a culture that taught us our menstrual cycle was inconvenient — something disruptive, something dirty, something to be managed so we could continue to work, function, and perform at the pace of a world built around male biology.

From a young age, we’re taught that periods are a problem to solve. Something to numb, suppress, or hide. Pain is normalised. Bleeding is inconvenient. The goal is to make the cycle disappear so life can continue uninterrupted.

But what if we asked a different question?

What if our periods aren’t the problem — but the messenger?

Each month, the female body moves through a process of renewal. Menstruation is not wasteful or inefficient; it is intelligent. Through this cyclical shedding, the body has the opportunity to release compounds it has stored over time — environmental toxins, endocrine-disrupting chemicals, heavy metals, microplastics — the by-products of modern life that quietly accumulate within us.

Your cycle tells a story.

Not only about reproduction, but about the health of your internal world.

Cycle length, flow, colour, clotting, pain, fatigue, and mood changes are all indicators of hormonal balance, inflammatory load, blood sugar regulation, liver function, and nervous system stress. These patterns are not random, and they are not meaningless. They are feedback.

Cramping and severe discomfort, in particular, are often dismissed as “just part of being a woman.” But pain is not inherent to menstruation itself. It is a signal. Often, it reflects underlying inflammation driven by ultra-processed foods, food additives, insulin resistance, environmental toxins, or unresolved emotional stress held in the body.

When we suppress the cycle — rather than listening to it — the body’s primary feedback system goes quiet. Over time, many women notice a growing sense of disconnection: from their natural energy rhythms, emotional clarity, intuition, or internal sense of timing. This isn’t a personal failure. It’s the natural consequence of muted biological signals.

The menstrual cycle is one of the most sophisticated diagnostic tools the body has. It offers a monthly insight into how resilient the nervous system is, how effectively hormones are being cleared, how stable blood sugar levels are, and how safe the body feels to rest and repair.

This isn’t mysticism.

It’s physiology.

Being pro-period doesn’t mean rejecting modern medicine or glorifying suffering. It means choosing curiosity over suppression. It means recognising that symptoms are not the enemy — they are messengers pointing us toward deeper imbalances that deserve attention.

When we stop asking how to get rid of our periods and start asking what our bodies are communicating, the relationship changes. The cycle becomes guidance rather than a burden. Health becomes something we listen to, rather than something we override.

In a world built on constant output, the menstrual cycle reminds us that health is rhythmic, not linear. That rest, release, and renewal are not weaknesses — they are biological requirements.

If this resonates, this space is for women who want to go deeper — to understand their cycle, their symptoms, and the root causes beneath them. This work begins with listening.

The Part No One Tells You About Healing Your Sexuality

Lately I’ve been sitting with a theme that keeps showing up in my sessions, and honestly, in my own story too. Most of the people I work with didn’t realise that the way they relate to their sexuality now was shaped way back in their teens — not by one big event, but by the slow build-up of moments where they didn’t value themselves.

What I’m noticing is this:

The real pain isn’t always that someone crossed a boundary. It’s the quiet ache of knowing we didn’t hold the boundary for ourselves. That’s the part that sticks. That’s the part that leaves an imprint. 

When self-worth isn’t there at the start, boundaries don’t really exist — not because you don’t care, but because no one taught you your value. And when you don’t value yourself, you don’t protect yourself. The deeper grief comes later, when you realise you abandoned yourself long before anyone else did.

That’s the wound people don’t name. 

Dissolving What’s Been Sitting in the Body

When I take people into the subconscious, we’re not going in to rehash everything. We’re going in because these memories carry charge. They live in the body — in the throat, pelvis, chest, back, gut. And that charge takes up space. It colours everything that comes after.

When we release that stored charge, something shifts. There’s suddenly room. You don’t have to keep circling the same memory. And when the noise quiets, there’s space to even ask: What do I want this part of my life to feel like now?

The Things We Suppress Show Up Elsewhere

People think shutting down sexuality only affects the bedroom — but I’m watching it turn up everywhere. In voices that go quiet. In bodies that feel numb. In conditions like PCOS and endo. In chronic back pain. In disconnection.

 It’s not because someone is “broken.” It’s because a huge part of their life force has been put in a box to survive. And the body remembers what the mind tries to forget.

Moving Slowly Back Into Yourself 

A lot of people I see don’t feel safe showing their sexuality at all. Not even with themselves. They’ve split their expression into “the acceptable parts of me” and “the parts I don’t touch.”

So we start gently. Movement. Breath. Emotion before eroticism. Dancing without it being a performance. Sensuality in places where the body still feels safe. It doesn’t need to look like anything anyone else would even notice. It just needs to reintroduce you to yourself.

The Foundation Matters More Than the Fix

Before anything changes, we have to build the foundation. Self-worth first. Boundaries that actually honour the person you are now. Integrity with yourself. Otherwise awakening sexuality just reactivates the same old pain.

Once those roots are there, the past doesn’t run the show. The memories don’t decide your future. And desire doesn’t feel like a threat.

This Isn’t About Going Back — It’s About Returning to Yourself

People think reclaiming sexuality means becoming who they were before something happened. But it’s not that. You’re not trying to undo. You’re making space for what couldn’t exist back then: choice, safety, desire without self-abandonment.

Your sexuality isn’t separate from your power. When it’s shut down, something in you goes dim — not gone, just tucked away.

This work isn’t about forcing it back online. It’s about building the kind of relationship with yourself where it finally feels safe to emerge.