100% organic truth serum
For most of my life, I thought PMS was a curse.
A hormonal hurricane meant to be endured- something to suppress with chocolate, excuses, or Midol. The world told me I was being “too sensitive,” “too emotional,” “too much.” And for a while, I believed it.
But the deeper I got into my own healing work- into herbalism, cyclical living, embodiment- I realized something profound. PMS isn’t madness. It’s medicine.
It’s a truth serum.
That week before you bleed? When everything feels a little louder, sharper, heavier? That’s not you being “crazy,” that’s your body whispering truths you’ve been avoiding all month long. Or, in my case, 3 years long.
This came into full view during a relationship with someone I lovingly call my karmic king. He was one of the most genuinely kind people I’ve ever dated. Gentle-hearted, well-intentioned, present. I loved him with my whole heart, and honestly, I still do. There is nothing bad I could say about him.
And yet, like clockwork, every three months I’d start to feel deeply uncomfortable in the relationship. It was subtle at first. An ache in my chest. An irritation I couldn’t name. Until everything big and little thing set me off. Literally, his face, content and resting, would bother me. The way he avoided tough conversations. The way he loved me- softly, sweetly- when I needed something deeper, something that cracked me open.
This cycle repeated itself every luteal phase. I’d feel off, we’d have a big talk, and I’d soothe myself back into the relationship for another few months. Until it came back again. That unmistakable discomfort. That quiet inner knowing: this isn’t your perfect fit. But I didn’t want to believe it. How could I leave someone I loved? Someone who hadn’t done anything wrong? Someone who made me feel safe?
That’s the thing about truth- it doesn’t always arrive with logic. It arrives in the body. In the tightness in your chest. The agitation in your skin. The ache behind your eyes. And it speaks clearest during PMS. Every single time.
Eventually, I had to admit it: I was in love, but I wasn’t in alignment. I was holding on to something beautiful that wasn’t meant to be mine long-term. And as painful as it was, I knew staying was keeping both of us stuck in a cycle of unspoken disappointment.
When I finally accepted that truth and let go, it hurt. But it was clean. I wish I could say I felt peace, but I didn’t. The thing about truth, is that peace often doesn’t arrive until later. That’s what our premenstrual phase is here to do. It strips away the masks. It removes the filters. It doesn’t care how well you’re coping, it wants to know: are you living in integrity with yourself?
PMS has taught me to trust my body. Not just when she’s soft and glowing, but when she’s angry, irritable, fed up. That version of me? She’s the part that remembers what I’ve been trying to forget. She’s my compass.
So now, when I feel that monthly unraveling- when I snap at my partner, cry about seemingly small things, or want to throw my entire life out the window- I don’t shame myself. I get curious.
What truth am I ignoring? What’s not working anymore? What do I know deep down that I haven’t wanted to name?
PMS isn’t a curse. It’s a mirror. And it’s often the most honest reflection I get all month.
