What if PMS wasn’t a pack of unhinged basement goblins we’re supposed to chain up, hide from society, and pretend we don’t have?

What if our symptoms were just… messengers?

Loud, dramatic messengers, sure, but still pointing at everything we’ve been bottling up. That month. That year. Our whole damn life.

What if our period is basically a monthly diagnostic scan? Not to torment us, but to highlight the unresolved: the wounds, the resentment, the grief, the tiny swallowed feelings we said we’d “deal with later.”

Just like modern medicine, we slap bandaids on symptoms and avoid the root. PMS works the same way.

If the same themes show up month after month (no matter how healed or self-aware we think we are) then maybe they’re not random. Maybe they’re the exact chapters we’re supposed to work on.

I only realized this now. So I’m mapping out my emotional “PMS report” this cycle and actually working with it. Who knows, maybe my PMS goblin will turn into a gentle glittery fairy. Maybe that’s what she wanted all along: care, attention, appreciation. Not blame. Not shame. So yes, I’m apologizing to my sweet, chaotic red gremlin for all the times she tried her best to show what I had been bottling up to me only go get ignored. 

Maybe we should all treat our period like a monthly staff meeting. HR barges in with her clipboard:

“Heart, your boundaries need an upgrade. Inner Child, sweetheart, this is not a daycare, someone please hold this kid. We’ve contacted IT six times about the Abandonment Issues bug. They swear they’re working on it, but the system keeps crashing. Self-Worth, Self-Love, Self-Care: excellent performance this month, keep it up. Past Mistakes… stop showing up uninvited. We’re not rehiring.”

Honestly? Start journaling every emotion PMS HR lady brings up. Then revisit it through the month. Work on it. Integrate it.

Is it work? Yes. Are we getting paid for it? Not in money. But in nervous system stability, emotional resilience, and the ability to build healthy love someday? Absolutely.

I’m not just working on myself for me. I am, for the family I might have. Because I know what emotional neglect looks like: how it shapes kids who grow into adults who flinch at touch, cry into pillows, isolate instead of ask for help, and treat vulnerability like a threat. I know what it’s like to be raised by parents whose nervous systems simply couldn’t hold mine. I know firsthand how the way our emotions were handled when we were young can make building a healthy relationship feel impossible: even when the love is real, the fear keeps showing up. How when we never observe healthy nervous system regulation, it takes us ages to learn it for ourselves. I know all about the urges to run away, disappear without saying a word and come back when I feel better. I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. I do not want my future kids to go through what I have. 

Someone once asked me what my biggest aspiration in life was. I don’t remember what I said, but it’s always been this: to break the pattern. To be a good mother and a good partner. To raise emotionally aware kids who never have to feel as alone as I did.

That’s my real ambition. Not the materialistic financial side of the story. That’s why I ended up on this path. Apparently I did choose this journey myself, just… it looks nothing like I thought it would, hence why I think I hadn’t signed up for this at all. Turns out, I have.

If I’m meant to have a family one day, I want to meet them as the integrated, steady version of me. Not the girl who never had anyone to hold her when she needed it.

And on the days when it all gets brutally hard -courtesy of an awakened life force doing whatever the hell it wants- it helps to remember what the point was all along.