The Myth of a Symptom-Free Cycle

Maybe it's not a myth at all. Maybe it's magic.

Brett Buchert · August 10, 2024

“So you really have NO symptoms before your period!?” The homeopathist asks with incredulity. She stops her tip-tip-tapping on the laptop for a moment to look up at me.

It’s hard for me to answer that question. I get squirmy. Because the answer is no, but it’s also much more than that.

“So you don’t have low mood, or get tired, cry a lot, cramps, nothing…?”

I’m not quite sure what to say. Because yes, my mood does change with my cycle. Yes, I do feel more tired at certain times of the month and need to give myself more rest. Yes, I do cry many many beautiful tears, drops of catharsis and connection, expression and empathy. And yes, sometimes there are cramps… And yet, to me, these are not symptoms. Not at all.

To me, symptoms indicate dysfunction, disorder, disease. And that is not how I see my experience of my cycle in the slightest.

My experience of my cycle is sacred and spiritual. It’s a reflection of how I have been relating to the world and myself. Discomfort is direction towards places I can support myself better in the future. Symptoms are simply sensations within my body, messengers that I can listen to and learn from.

And sometimes sensations are not symptoms at all.

The changes in my mood in time with my cycle are the result of a perfect orchestra of physiological changes within me. They allow me to exist as multiple expressions of who I am throughout each month - the centered goddess on my bleed, the blossoming spirit of the follicular phase, the shining woman at ovulation, and the alchemizing witch in the premenstrum. It is within my nature to change, and to feel every shade of emotion - the socially-accepted “good” feelings, and the socially-rejected “bad” feelings too.

The changes in my energy are designed for me, not against me. Fatigue supports my body in seeking more rest when I am preparing a home for life within my womb or preparing to release it at my bleed. While sometimes inconvenient with work and life and will, perhaps work and life and will are inconvenient to the needs of my body.

My tears? They are magic. They show me what I love and care about. They are energy releasing from the body. And they soothe the system when it all becomes a little too much. I love to cry. No shame here.

And oh the cramps? I’m still learning how they serve me. What I know is that they tell me to rest when I am pushing too hard. Four years ago, the cramps told me to have my copper IUD removed as soon as possible when it implanted into my uterus causing unbearable pain. This was my last form of medical birth control and I have never looked back, growing into deeper and deeper relationship with my natural cycle, body, and self ever since. My cramps teach me about pain and surrender, about the choice of perception and the power of the mind. And they even call my fickle black cat to my side late at night where he snuggles on my womb until I fall asleep again.

So do I have symptoms with my cycle? No. Do I have sensations? Of course.

And could someone out there tell me that my cycle changes are actually a hormone imbalance, or that I could solve all of this with some perfect diet and magical herb concoction to live in constant bliss? Maybe. I am in the office of a homeopathist, remember.

But when it comes to my cycle, I’m not really interested. For the greatest medicine I’ve ever found to support my menstrual cycle is listening to my body, trusting what she says, and making the subtle and significant changes in my life that she asks for. I trust my cycle. I value her as a gift and the best guide for my life.

“That’s amazing,” the homeopathist says when I somehow squeeze out that I don’t have the usual pre-bleed symptoms. “I have so many women come in here suffering so much with PMS and pain. They just think it’s normal and they don’t realize there are things you can do that can help.”

Oh woman, don’t I know. For I wasn’t always like this. I am not just uniquely blessed to be above suffering. From puberty onwards fifteen years, I considered my cycle the cause of my greatest despair. The ultimate diagnosis: PMDD. And despite the medications I took and supplements I tried, healing was never found in a bottle or a doctor’s office. It was found in changing my own mind. But I’ll save that story for another day.

~ Brett Buchert, Day 3