Breaking the Silence: How I Took Control of My Pain and Found Healing

I had never thought about writing a post on the topic of female reproductive health until my recent appointment at the doctor's surgery. I hadn’t stepped foot in there for at least 4 years due to how skeptical I had become over the so-called treatments they’d thrown at me for various minor health issues in the past. While I’m not completely against the pharmaceutical industry, I do personally think that there is a broad one-size-fits-all approach used by professionals that doesn’t always work with everybody’s unique genetic makeup. Standardised medical treatments are a double-edged sword. Hesitant, I swallowed my pride and booked myself a slot with a doctor. After a painfully slow month went by, I dragged myself down to the medical centre and dithered around the waiting room, too restless to sit down for longer than 10 minutes.

What exactly got me to this point? Without trying to sound too dramatic, it was unquestionably the vicious, chronic pain that I had been pushing to one side for the past 10 years. I taught myself to carry pain in silence; even now, some days I move through the world like a ghost of myself, with even the simplest moments turning into a quiet test of endurance. I doubt there is a single woman left who hasn’t been bombarded with old clichés that leave us questioning whether the period pain we experience is ‘normal’ or not.

“It’s just cramps!”

“You’re overreacting!”

Throwaway statements like these are deflating beyond belief and perpetuate feelings of guilt and shame. We women are warriors when it comes to masking uncomfortable feelings, and I think this fact is why people so often don’t realise the damage they’re causing with such unthinking words. We power on. We push down the discomfort. We ignore it until the symptoms become worse, which, in my case, is exactly what happened. Days of excruciating pain turned into weeks, until every day I felt fire underneath my skin. Gobbling down heavy-duty painkillers ended up not even touching the sides, and heat therapy stopped working entirely. My mental health deteriorated. I found myself staying away from other people more often in fear that I would become a burden in some way, or that my body would flare up and I’d have nowhere to hide away. As you can imagine, these times seemed pretty bleak.

After what felt like a lifetime, I found myself sitting nervously in front of my doctor. She was wearing a suit with a tender smile, legs crossed, Google Search on standby. She asked me what I needed help with, and I spoke in depth for a while about every symptom I was dealing with and how I wanted to begin my journey to receiving support for what I had been going through since being a teenager. After my emotional monologue, the doctor sighed pitifully and tilted her head ever so slightly, as if rehearsing sympathy rather than truly feeling it.

“It sounds like your body is ready for a change,” she said, tapping at her keyboard absentmindedly.

“Have you thought about having children?”

The question sounded absurd, so much so that I thought perhaps I had misheard her. It had taken me a decade to pluck up the courage to reach out my hand for support, and this was the best she could summon up to say. Getting pregnant to stop my symptoms? As if it was a cure? As if bringing another life into the world should be my first resort instead of my last? I felt insulted. A huge part of me wanted to ask if she had ever been told that the solution to her suffering was to permanently alter the course of her life. Instead, I tuned out for the rest of the appointment because I knew my fury, unfortunately, wouldn’t serve me in that moment. I nodded along out of politeness, hearing her next words in a blur. She prescribed me codeine and tranexamic acid, handed me a birth control leaflet, and I left. Nothing new, the same old quick fixes, none of it addressing the root of the problem.

Tragically, my experience is nothing new when it comes to women’s gynecological health. The healthcare system has continuously failed to provide real remedies for our problems and instead fobs us off with painkillers that mask what’s happening in our bodies and end up disrupting our hormones further. Although disheartening at first, it has driven me to take my health into my own hands and look into alternative methods that may help. Hours of my time have been spent scouring the web in search of health articles, clinical research, and papers that could point me in the right direction. There is such a vast amount of information out there, which can seem daunting at first, but I’ve found that it’s just a case of trial and error. Of course, I am no expert in the subject, but I truly believe that what I have started implementing into my daily routine is changing my body for the better.

Focusing on healing my gut has been, without question, the most beneficial step toward leveling out my hormones. The connection between gut health and hormonal balance is something that has only recently come to the forefront of medical research. Various studies show that the gut plays a crucial role in regulating hormones; inflammation is the result of hormones spiraling out of control. Estrogen can be broken down by probiotic bacteria from supplements and certain fibre-rich, fermented foods. In essence, an imbalanced gut microbiome may trigger an inflammatory response, increasing the production of cytokines — proteins that signal inflammation. If it all sounds a bit complex, it’s okay; the good news is there are simple steps anyone can take to introduce a gut-healthy regime.

Here is a shopping list I’ve made up for anyone who doesn’t quite know where to start:

1. Fermented foods:

• Sauerkraut
• Kefir
• Kimchi
• Kombucha (beware: tastes like shite)

2. High-fiber foods:

• Leafy greens
• Chia seeds
• Whole grains

3. Omega-3 rich foods:

• Salmon (or any fatty fish)
• Flaxseeds (sprinkle on top of meals or in smoothies)

4. Gut-healing supplements:

• Magnesium (MASSIVELY helped my muscle cramps)
• Probiotics (I use a brand called Monday Muse, changed my life)

Like most things, this wasn’t an overnight fix. Self-discipline is key when it comes to changing your diet; luckily, I never really ate a lot of fast food, which was a bonus, but I still had to make significant adjustments to my routine. It’s not about perfection, it’s about progress… slipping up is normal, it happens, but what matters the most is staying consistent over time. These suggestions are in no way a cure; however, I can confidently say that I don’t dread the day of my period half as much as I used to because my symptoms have calmed down dramatically.

I’m sharing the beginning of my journey not because I have all the answers, but to shine a light on an issue so many of us face in seclusion. We often don’t understand what’s happening in our bodies or how to regain control, and that leaves us feeling lost. This post is hopefully a reminder that discomfort doesn’t have to be your permanent reality. You have the power to explore, experiment, and take charge of your healing. It won’t always be easy, but every small step forward counts. Progress isn’t always immediate, but it’s always possible. The first step is believing that you are worthy of the care and transformation your body deserves.

No matter where you’re starting from, remember, you’re not alone. Change is possible, and there’s always hope for healing. Keep going — one step at a time.

M.M x