I'm So Done with My Period: A Breakup Letter to My Monthly Visitor

Dear Aunt Flo, Period, or whatever cute nickname you’ve tricked women into using to downplay your disruptive ways,

I’m officially breaking up with you. I know this might seem sudden, but trust me, this decision has been a long time coming.

After three decades of quietly sneaking super-absorbent tampons in my sleeve like a magician trying to hide their tricks,

After countless nights of wrestling with maxi-pads that clash with my favorite lingerie, hoping to avoid a leak,

After too many surprise spills that turned my bathroom into a horror scene, discovered by my understanding partner the next day,

After enduring years of cramps, mood swings, backaches, headaches, nausea, and stomach issues,

I’m done. Consider this my Dear John letter to you, my menstrual cycle. I’m ready to step off this bloody carousel for good.

Our Rocky Relationship

Let’s be real, our relationship has always been rocky. You played hard to get in my teens when I was desperate for your arrival. I remember other girls chatting about their periods in the locker room while I felt left out. “Do you use tampons or pads?” one would ask. “Both,” I’d reply, trying to sound cool but mostly confusing my menstruating friend. Nobody ever warned me about what to expect when you finally showed up, uninvited, during a three-hour AP final in my 16th year. I was wearing white jeans, of course. I had to stuff toilet paper into my pants and pray no one noticed as I sat in a row of identical desks in a gymnasium. Thank goodness I remembered a sweater to tie around my waist; it was all that saved me from total embarrassment.

Biologically and culturally, your arrival marked my transition into womanhood. “Congratulations,” that shedding uterine lining said, “You’re now old enough to deal with a monthly cycle of products, pills, and potentially surgical interventions to manage this.”

As I matured, I realized the biggest issue with you was your unpredictability. You would come and go as you pleased, clashing with my desire for control. When you disappeared during my early twenties, while I battled anxiety and anorexia, I was relieved. One less complication, one less worry.

It wasn’t until I began therapy and started taking antidepressants that I understood what your absence represented. It was about my reluctance to fully embrace adulthood and the changes it brought. Ironically, I was relieved by your return.

Good Moments and Exhausting Drama

I don’t want to be too hard on you, though. We’ve shared some good moments. I’m grateful for my healthy pregnancies and my two beautiful daughters—highlights of my life that wouldn’t have happened without your consistent presence.

But the drama that comes with you has always been exhausting. The bloating, back pain, emotional fatigue, and irritation can feel unbearable. The frustration I unleash on my family, the inexplicable outbursts, and the tears—all a consequence of your arrival. Even when I know you’re the cause of my behavior, I feel powerless to stop it. How many arguments have you incited? How many sleepless nights have you caused?

Things have gotten worse lately. You’ve been erratic, with weeks of spotting or sudden bursts that require me to dash to the bathroom mid-conversation. I’m going through underwear like a teenager again, feeling just as helpless now as I did back then, but with many more signs of aging.

The Fear of Your Departure

And let’s not pretend you haven’t considered leaving me for good. Honestly, the thought of that makes me nervous. Will your departure mean the end of my femininity? Will I say goodbye to my smooth skin and hello to unwanted facial hair? Will I lose my curves and become a stranger in the mirror?

As Danny Glover said in “Lethal Weapon,” “I’m getting too old for this.” I’m ready to break free from this cycle of emotional and physical upheaval. We’ve had our time, and I use that term loosely, but it’s time for you to go.

So please, vanish. My identity and sense of self have grown beyond your relentless grip. With each passing month, I’m one period closer to your final departure—and I’m ready to embrace that change.

Further Insights

If you’re interested in more insights, check out this post on home insemination for a different perspective on fertility. You can also visit Make a Mom for expert information on home insemination kits. Additionally, Healthline offers great resources on pregnancy and home insemination.

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In summary, I’ve reached my breaking point with my menstrual cycle, a tumultuous relationship that has brought both joy and pain. I’m ready to move on and embrace the next chapter of my life, liberated from the monthly chaos.