Mein Gott. I have wrestled with the demon this evening.

There is no way to describe, I think, to anyone who doesn't already know, the physical upheaval of menstruation. I hate even to write down that word--it's too easy for so many to brush it aside. I was completely incapacitated. My body revolted in every direction. My mind ceased to function. For four hours I could only writhe in agony. And vomit. And writhe some more. Ugh. My head clouded over completely--I have no idea what went on in this house during those hours. I could have been burgled. Basho could have escaped. Earthquakes. Calamities. I would not have noticed.

I know--there are methods of relieving this monthly torture. Estrogen. I've been on the Pill before for this very reason and I hated it. I hated how it flattened me out--regulated everything so completely. I was no longer me. Something peculiar happens to me each month, and, in spite of the excruciating pain, I don't want to live without these peculiarities. I'm not much of a religious/spiritual type. But. Before the onslaught of pain, I feel a peculiar intensity of empathy. I sense emotions--even of people just walking by, people I do not know. It's pretty much unbearable--I generally attempt to avoid all until it passes. But it's so bizarre that, dare I say it? It feels holy. Like a gift.

I'm hyper-aware of my physical self, as well. Normally I pretty much ignore my body, but for these few days, I feel rooted. I actually connect with my fingers and my toes and my pores and my arm hair. All of my senses are more intense--particularly smell and touch. I take great sensual pleasure in soft clothes and enjoy baths, an activity I normally find completely boring.

But most of all: I anticipate sleep. I have the most vivid dreams--they are epic. They are soaked in knowledge and blood and wisdom that comes not from me. I am uninterested in the chemistry of this phenomenon. I am equally uninterested in viewing these days as a problem. I accept them as grace.

Hell, though. I could do with the pain.