I am a believer in giving voice to what often remains unsaid.

The hope is to inspire you to give voice to your own stories and perhaps to make you feel a little less alone.

Here is one such story…

I first bled the day that was to be my Bat Mitzvah. How about that for timing. So grateful that we changed the date. Perfectly fitting though, as if my body heard the original date and said, okay, I’ll pencil that in as the day she will become a woman.

As my dad yelled from downstairs that we were going to be late for synagogue, I remember my mom finding a pad for me. As I recall, it was monstrous in size. I don’t remember much else. I don’t remember how I felt physically or emotionally that day.

The days that followed had a journey all their own.

I remember through my teenage years keeping meticulous track of these days each month, circling the days on my calendar in red. Part of me wishes that I’d kept those, wondering if my cycle now lines up with how it was in the beginning.

For a number of years, the days of the red circles on the calendar were dictated by a series of pills.

Eventually allowing my body to find its own rhythm again was empowering, and I was grateful that my body soon swelled with a beautiful growing little being, now almost 5 years old.

To my amazement, shortly after my daughter was born, my cycle picked up again as if it hadn’t missed a beat. It felt good to feel have that rhythm return. It gave me grounding amidst the constant changes of an infant.

Once again, I began to regulate my cycle with hormones, though this was a much more difficult choice at that point in my life. I found quickly that with so much more body awareness than I’d had before, I felt increasing uncomfortable not knowing when I would bleed. Not to mention, I wondered what else those hormones were affecting in my sacred body.

Eventually, I listened to my body and relieved it of the excess hormones. I gave my body the chance to find it’s rhythm again.

And so here I am, discovering a new chapter in my life as woman.

The new moon is my mark.

About a week before the new moon, I can expect oceans of tears (sometimes hidden by real life tragedy like losing a friend much too soon, sometimes for seemingly no reason at all).

A few days later I fall into the ‘what the hell am I doing with my life’ hole and wonder how I could have fallen so deep so fast.

The next day, the heavy cramps come and my body at last releases what it has been holding onto.

A few more days of craving lethargy and giving myself as much compassion as I’m able, and I begin to find my grounding again.

The beauty of body awareness, of self trust, of self compassion, is that you can meet your body where it is in every moment, understand it, explore it’s messages and find gratitude.

Exploring the cycles of our bodies opens up our awareness to the other cycles in our lives.

The creative cycles.

The cleansing cycles.

The hibernating cycles.

The nourishing cycles.

The yearning for more cycles.

If we listen with our bodies, to our bodies, we’ll discover so many messages hidden in plain site. And that’s about as sacred as it comes.

With love,