Some Things You May Want to Know about Being Female

This is how I see it: you can learn to fix your own car but you won’t get far if you don’t understand how it works before you start fiddling about. You can, of course, take it to the garage and hand it over to a professional but then your entire trust is placed in that person, and you have very little part in the process. Wouldn’t it be better to know a bit about the inner workings of your car, so that if something seems a bit off, you can work out what it is likely to be, and decide what YOU can do to fix the problem? Then, if it still isn’t working properly, or if the problem is beyond your knowledge and skill to fix, you can take it to the garage with some idea and expectation of what will be done to your car in the hands of another person. You have some control over the situation: some involvement.

How is it any different when you have health issues?  

We are not just a mind being carried around in a fleshy container. It’s all part of the same system. Therefore, to a certain extent, our health is in our own hands. I believe we should all know a bit about what goes on inside our bodies so we can help them to function to their best abilities, and so we can identify problems when they occur.

Ok, so short of attending medical school or spending years learning about the human body, I think we can only ever assume to have a limited knowledge. But, to use another metaphor, it’s like the difference between visiting a foreign country with a limited knowledge of their language, or no knowledge at all. If you have no understanding of the language, you’ll feel pretty lost. If you have even just a little understanding, you’ll be able to talk to people, ask questions, read signposts and menus… in other words, to some extent, you’ll be OK!

When it comes to the female reproductive system, we never really get told that much about it. I think I might have had a total of five lessons at school where periods, sex and pregnancy were mentioned. I was lucky because my Mum taught me and my brother a little biology when we were very young, and as I wrote in a previous blog- I had a certain interest in how bodies work, so spent some time reading books on the subject as a child. But what I don’t know about it all massively outweighs what I do. When I began concentrating on my health recently, I decided the first thing to do would be to try and change that.

So here’s where I share what I found!

(I’m assuming you already know the names and the general functions of the body parts I’m talking about here. If not, there’s some great places online to learn about them… try  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_anatomy )

What is a woman, anyway?

Before you read this, you might want to read my previous entry ‘This is where it all started’ to understand the context of what I’m saying.

What does the word ‘female’ mean to you? Or the word ‘feminine’?

I think if anyone had asked me this question up until a couple of months ago, my answer would probably have been something along the lines of: a female is usually the smaller, more fragile sex of a species. It is the female that carries the babies or lays the eggs and therefore females tend to be more mothering, protective, caring. Something would be described as feminine if it was fragile,

petite, curvy, meek, in need of protection. Feminine women are youthful, delicate, vulnerable and submissive, have long hair, big eyes, long eyelashes and pink childlike lips, but also have curvy bodies- small waists, big breasts and wide hips. They wear make-up, jewellery, dresses and high heels.

I would not have related my answer to myself in any way, shape or form. I would have picked a few aspects from the stereotype of ultra-feminine and convinced myself THAT was what femininity was, without stopping to contemplate how my opinion was affecting me on an unconscious level.

It wasn’t until I was leant a couple of interesting books on the subject of fertility and female health, that I even contemplated my ideas of femininity and my feelings towards my own femininity.

 

The first book I read was called ‘The Fertility Solution’ by Niravi Payne. The second was ‘Consciously Female’ by Dr Tracy Gaudet. Now, please don’t be put off by the names of these books, I know they sound suspiciously airy-fairy. But please keep reading, there’s good stuff to come I promise!

I felt very odd being given a book called ‘The Fertility Solution’. It’s not as if I am planning to have children any time soon. In fact, with no boyfriend on the scene, the chances of children are… oooh I’d say… zero. So why did I want to read about how to become pregnant? I found myself wondering this as I read the first few chapters, wading through Americanisms and flowery language like ‘an absolutely exquisite sun with its rays penetrating deep into your uterus, streaming forth from your womb to the world, healing the world.’

But I perservered, and discovered, to my surprise, that I really engaged with the thoughtful exercises and meditations suggested in the book. More and more, I became aware of the connection between my mind and my body. Why had I ever thought of them as two separate things?

I’ve written before about our bodies and minds, and how each of us is a complex system of many parts working as one. The brain is one of those parts, albeit one very important part with the ability to control all other parts. Our brains do the thinking, the decoding, the memorising, the balancing. It’s easy to forget: the same body part is controlling unconscious and conscious behaviour. Just because we’re not aware of what the insides of our bodies are doing most of the time, does not mean we are not thinking about it just as much as we’re thinking about our shopping list or our guilt at upsetting our next door neighbour yesterday. To me, it makes perfect sense to me that our conscious thoughts, or even subconscious thoughts (such as my own perceptions of femininity) would affect the ‘performance’ of our bodies.

I could go on but that is perhaps a subject for another blog. Let’s just say, after reading these books and thinking a great deal about the mind-body connection, I came to the conclusion that clearing my mind of some negative thoughts towards femininity, fertility and self-perception may just have a positive effect on my health. At the very least, it was worth a try!

And this is where pandora’s box opened for me.

I’m still amazed that I managed to carry around so much undiscovered negativity towards these subjects, never knowing it was there. To begin with, my own description of feminity was so far away from a description of myself, I might as well have described myself as a man!

“Tall, heavy set, with small breasts and narrow hips. Independent and fairly physically strong as well as strong-willed.”

The next thing I discovered was a massive ambivalence towards having children. Now, I grew up with such a fascination of pregnancy you might have described it as an obsession for a while. I can remember reading my Mum’s books on health and first aid: I loved anything to do with how bodies worked… but most of all, I loved anything to do with pregnancy. Mum had one book on pregnancy and I read it so much the pages began to fall out. I wrote stories where women got married and had babies. I played games where I stuffed a pillow down my top and pretended I was pregnant. There was no doubt in my mind that I would grow up, get married and have three children. It was all planned in my mind from the age of four.

And of course, it didn’t happen like that. I grew up, I made friends, I partied, I had a few boyfriends who were never fussed about commitment, and one who I would’ve had kids with at some point in the future if it hadn’t been for the sad fact that I fell out of love with him. THAT was never in the plan! And then I found myself at thirty, still single, the years of my fertile life drawing to a close rather more quickly than I had expected- like sand in an hourglass where it seems to go so slowly at first, and then suddenly speeds up as the hourglass empties.

This is where I realised that years back, for some unknown reason, having babies had slunk into the depths of my consciousness, hidden somewhere under the label ‘naughty thoughts’. I think I’d had to hide it there for the sake of my sanity, and for the sake of my commitment-less relationships. How many of us do this, I wonder: protect ourselves from our own dreams in order to avoid the disappointment of not achieving them?

So… what was there to do, but to dredge up the shipwreck of my childhood plan to get married and have babies; to clean off some of the crap that had built up over the years, and see what was left underneath.

This is one of the drawings I did

Suddenly I was looking at it all in an entirely different light, because of course a lot has changed in my life since I was a child with childish dreams. And a lot has changed since I was twenty one years old, just out of a four year relationship with the man I thought was going to live those dreams with me. I spent a long time thinking about the whole subject: writing, meditating, drawing… I looked at it from every angle I could find, and came to one final conclusion:

Women’s bodies have the ability to grow children inside them. That is an AMAZING thing and I can’t believe I never appreciated it before. Whether we choose to use this ability or not is up to us, but I think the very fact we can do it is something to be proud of. And with such a complicated and delicate system, it’s not surprising things go wrong and women often struggle to have children.

Personally I think this ability is the cornerstone of what being female is about. Not for some, I am sure, but for me. At the very least, as a woman I think you have to accept and respect your body’s need to go through the baby-making-motions. Every woman spends half their life having periods; even if we don’t want children, we still have periods and we still go through the menopause.

I myself want children at some point, when my life is in the right place for it. And I’m not talking perfection here: yes, it’d be great to have the perfect house and the perfect job and the perfect husband before children come on the scene… but I would at least like to have done some more travelling, got my business to a place I am comfortable with, and be living with a man I love, who loves me and also wants children. I am not there yet and therefore I don’t want children yet. It’s as simple as that, and I don’t have to be embarrassed by this. There is simply no need for the guilt, sadness, fear and denial I was feeling up until now.

Being feminine is not all about being A. motherly or B. girly. Right or wrong. A or B. Feminine or manly. For a person who rebels against all stereotypes, rules, regulations, routines and clichés, I certainly did let myself fall into this trap. Perhaps out of self pity and martyrdom, perhaps just because I never properly contemplated it… but I did unconsciously believe that feminine was everything I wasn’t! But I have made the choice now, to decide for myself what I want femininity to be. And I choose my own version: the Amazonian goddess, tall, long-limbed, strong, defiant, but also pretty, with a hidden vulnerable side. A woman who can cope on her own, but will melt if you find the right way to approach her. A mother to those who need mothering- but not necessarily to those who simply WANT mothering. Independent, intelligent, sexy, graceful, playful, calm and content. That is my idea of femininity.

And that’s a picture I can relate to.

This is where it all starts...

This blog comes with a disclaimer:

“The following text contains personal information that some readers may find uncomfortable. Persons who wish to know nothing about the female reproductive system, PMS, hormones, herbal remedies, digestion and emotional therapy are encouraged to stop reading now. There’s probably something on TV that’s more interesting anyway.”

I’m assuming anyone still reading is either concerned with their own menstrual cycle, or is just interested in bodies and health, so I’ll continue unashamedly!

Periods are not easy to talk about. Not exactly a subject for small-talk, eh…
“Oh hi Steve, how are you?”
“I’m good Susan, what about you? How’s your period this month?”
Nope. I’m actually quite glad we keep some things to ourselves.

Saying that, nobody should ever have to suffer because they don’t feel they can discuss a problem. I also find it strange that the menstrual cycle should be taboo when it’s such a huge part of every woman’s life. It’s one of the systems in our bodies, same as our hearts beating or our lungs breathing, or our digestive organs processing the food we eat. Even the word ‘menstrual’… uck, it sounds nasty doesn’t it?!

Personally, I think, same as any with any other ‘uncomfortable’ issue, it’s all about finding people who understand what you’re going through, and are willing to listen or maybe share their own experiences. It’s not cool to blurt out your innermost to everyone you pass on the street, but if you tentatively approach the subject with a few friends and gauge their reactions, you’ll work out pretty quickly who you can talk to and who you can’t.

Up until recently, I was so embarrassed about periods and other body issues that I kept everything to myself, even avoided talking to the doctor about it. There’s a part of me that wonders if this denial and self-containment had some part to play in the troubles I had over the years with my reproductive system.

I got my period quite late, at age 14. By the time I went on the pill at 17, things still hadn’t settled down into a normal rhythm. I’d get crippling cramps that left me curled in a ball on my bed. Sometimes it’d be 3 or 4 months between periods. Of course, the pill sorted that out, but then I put on weight, lost my mojo, and when I came off it 3 years later, it took me a year and a half for my periods to go back to something that resembled ‘normal’.

At age 24, during a very stressful time of my life, I had the first SERIOUS pains. Walking back from the supermarket, I felt a stitch-like twinge in my lower stomach. I stopped for a second, thinking it would peak and then ease, but it never did- it just kept building. I could barely walk. I got home and collapsed on my bed, writhing in pain. Nothing would ease it. It felt as if someone had grabbed a handful of internal organs and was giving them chinese burns: twisting and twisting until my stomach was on fire. It eased off slightly after a couple of hours, and I fell asleep- there was nothing else I could do, the whole ordeal was exhausting.

Since then (six years), I have had these pains perhaps 8 more times. Each time I understand them a little better. They almost always come around two weeks into my cycle, and are far worse if I have been suffering from stress in the month before. These days, as soon as I feel the twinge, I take a handful of painkillers and try to fall asleep before it happens- but this can be very inconvenient, particularly if I’m about to leave for something important, like work. Somehow the excuse ‘sorry I’m suffering from period pains’ never quite explains it.

Add to this a small collection of other irregularities: dark hairs that look decidedly less than femenine, a cycle that varies from 28 to 38 days and sometimes skips a month or two, horrible PMS that leaves me feeling tearful for one to two weeks every month… And what did I do about all this?

Nothing.

I never even talked to anyone about it.

It was only when my Aunty was diagnosed with ovarian cancer that I realised talking about it might save my life one day! My Mum mentioned to me that her sister had always suffered with menstrual problems, and I found myself thinking: ‘Does this stuff run in families? Have I got something that might lead to cancer?’ And so I finally gathered all my courage and visited the doctor.

I was so afraid. It seems silly now, but the day I went for my first appointment I had butterflies in my stomach and felt as if I was being led to the gallows. Of course, as soon as I was sat with the doctor (a soft-spoken man not much older than myself) I felt better. How cathartic to finally put words to these physical problems and pains I had struggled with for almost fifteen years!

Skipping to the end: after around a year of visits to the doctors surgery: being told there was nothing really wrong with me, going away thinking “Well that’s good, I’m not that unusual then, I’ll just keep taking the painkillers,” then realising that was crap and I did actually want to do something about it, more trips to see a different doctor and a couple of different nurses, having so much blood drained from my arm I felt like I might deflate, plus a couple of trips to the hospital to have nurses do things to me that I’d previously only ever let my boyfriend do; I finally had some idea of what was actually going on in my body- but still no clue about how to make it better!

At my last doctor’s appointment, I was told I had elevated levels of testoterone and pro-lactin. “So there’s something not quite right there,” was the line she used, while I sat looking attentive but thinking “I could’ve told you that WITHOUT the tests! I was also (luckily for me because I have several friends with these conditions and know how nasty they can be) told I definitely don’t have polycystic ovaries, or endometriosis, but that I do have recurring ovarian cysts that come and go of their own accord.

And with that I was sent on my way, to ponder over my choice: live with it or take a hormonal contraceptive pill for life.

I’ll be honest, I put it all aside after that. I was fed up with thinking about it, and with an actual diagnosis, some part of me felt satisfied. It sounds so illogical to write it, but it was as if everything would be OK now that I knew exactly what the problem was. It had a name, so it could go away.

But of course, it didn’t. It was only when I had the serious pains again recently, while also ill with labyrinthitis, I decided ENOUGH. Surely there is SOMETHING I can do to ease these problems that doesn’t involved being medicated for life?!

And that’s where the point of this blog comes into play.

It struck me how little I knew about my own body. I found myself lying in bed with this pain, thinking “what the hell IS this?” Somewhere inside my pelvis, something was going on that was causing so much pain I couldn’t walk… and I still didn’t have the first clue what. So I got my computer out and began trawling through medical sites, blogs and forums. I was about to allow myself to be convinced I had appendicitis when I read one little sentence:

‘women complaining of a hot appendix are often in fact suffering from an ovarian cyst.’

Aha! The cysts! So I began a search into ovarian cysts and by then I was hooked. So much information, so many people talking about their own experiences. I discovered, to my horror, that a cyst can sometimes twist, taking the ovary and fallopian tube with it. I still wince when I picture it, but that also explains the feeling of having my insides wrung out. And now I can be pretty certain that every time I have these pains, I have a cyst. This also helped me to identify that I get cysts when I am suffering from stress or illness- when my body is run down.

The next thing I stumbled upon was a diet claiming to help prevent cysts. And this got me thinking- would it be possible to EAT myself healthy, without having to rely on medication?

The next time I visited my emotional therapist, I explained that I had been ill, and she got out her big hippy book on ‘what physical symptoms tell you about psycological health’ and read what it suggested ovarian cysts might have to do with my thoughts and feelings. And the answer was ‘blocked creativity’. Oddly enough, I was also suffering from blocked sinuses at the time, which had led to the labyrinthitis (dizziness, loss of balance, migranes, tiredness).

Anyway, the result of all of this was that I made the decision to tackle my problems in a holistic fashion: to basically attack it in every natural way I could think of!

This is the start of a journey where I hope to lessen my discomfort and hopefully even control some of the physical issues like irregular cycles, extra hair, PMS… I’m actually excited to find out what happens over the coming months. And for anyone who is suffering from similar issues, I will be writing about my discoveries in the hope that it might just help other women too. Watch this space!

Monsieur Angry Pants

My French teacher was an angry little man with an army-style crew cut hairdo.

I never understood why anyone liked him, and yet he was head of the small clique of popular teachers, in the same way that the bitchiest girls and the roudiest boys were heads of the clique of popular kids. I suppose in such a small country school, where nothing really changes in twenty years, the essential differences between the children and the teachers are fairly insignificant!

Monsier Crew Cut has lived for years now in a little place in my head I reserve for the people I believe played some part in my becoming an unhappy adult, and I have never been able to forgive him for it. I wonder if we ever forgive those people who abuse (knowingly or otherwise) their relationships with us as children. I wonder if we ever should?

Monsier's problem was that he was a stick, not a carrot. He clearly had well-defined ideas about what he liked and didn't like in the children he taught, and the only way he knew to deal with what he didn't like, was to try and frighten it out of the child in question.... Which apparently doesn't work particularly well on intelligent, socially anxious, and emotionally vulnerable thirteen year olds (me).

I've always had a certain respect for the kids who back-chat their teachers. It shows some force of character to see through the curtain of power and heirachy at that age and to have the confidence to question it. I never could. When Monsier Crew Cut exploded in my face, in a white-hot rage about something I had or hadn't done, I took it personally! Though  on the surface I was indignant, I actually suffered some pretty deep wounds from that man.

Of course, as a less vulnerable adult, I would be more likely to just walk away from it with a bemused expression, later to vent to a close friend about how this sad little man was clearly trying to make up for a lack of something in his pants... er... I mean life.

But I was vulnerable then! More so for being one of those irritating 'sensitive' children. And the message I took from his irrational and judgemental barking was: "little girl- you don't live up to expectations, change right this instant or I'll blow you to the ground with the force of my anger."

In Kooky's perfect world, there would be no place for people like this- definatly not in schools at least! Children need nurturing, simple guidelines, and most importantly of all, humour.

Let go, Let go

If you really want to be happy, just let go.

Honest to god, it works. You just say "Ok, I give in. World- give me whatever you've got to give me, I'm ready for it. I'm in your hands." And instantly, you'll feel like everything is OK.

I suppose what you're doing is taking the pressure off yourself.

The tricky bit is managing to hold onto the feeling! I am envious of anyone who can do this, I definately can't... though I have my moments of clarity every now and then, often when I have driven myself to exaustion, putting all my energy into getting somewhere just to look around and find out I'm in pretty much exactly the same place I was to start with.

It's also quite daunting, which is why it's hard to say it and really mean it. Somewhere in the back of your head, there might be a voice that says "Ooooh I don't know, what if I don't like what the world gives me, what if I'm scared and can't go through with it..." But if you totally let go, then you will go through with it. And even if you don't like where you end up, it will at least be somewhere new.

It makes me think that I might understand why people give their lives up for religion and become monks, nuns, preachers, etc. It is the ultimate way of saying "Alright, I'm in your hands." To make that vow, to promise to live your life for what you truly believe is a higher purpose, must be both daunting and liberating. Something/someone else will provide you with the meaning you're looking for, and the journey you must take to get there: you don't have to struggle to make it up yourself any more, you just need to open up to what you're given and follow the path that is placed in front of you.

Ok, so religion isn't for everyone... me for one... but I kinda like that mantra for life.