The Meaning of Menstruation

It's approaching the time of the month that I dread the most. And I'm not talking about the arrival of my bank statement.

My period absolutely terrifies me. I'd managed to stave my period off through starvation for almost two years and now I feel like I've hit puberty all over again/  I'm more scared now than first time around, but this time the fear's not about bleeding to death, a tampon swimming through my uterus and getting lost in my innards, or anything else equally childish.  

I'm not squeamish or prudish.  I will openly walk to the bathroom at home with a tampon or pad in my hand and I always stop the cashier from wrapping sanitary products in paper bags at the chemist, apparently for 'modesty'.  Since when is menstruation a good reason to kill extra trees?  I positively cringe when people talk about 'Aunt Ruby' or 'Mother Nature' visiting. 'Period' is not a dirty word.  I don't understand why a normal, healthy bodily function need be taboo, but I guess you could say that me and Aunt Ruby (ergh..) just aren't on good terms. 

While periods aren't exactly pleasant, it's not the unpleasant practicalities that bother me - it's the guilt.  I shouldn't have a healthy body, or so my brain tells me.  The fact that I have the physical capacity to reproduce seems morally wrong.  If I started spawning the world would be an inferior place.  Every time I feel the first cramp or see the first spot of blood I'm reminded that I'm not doing a good enough job of damaging my body.  Health isn't an easy state for me to be in. (physically or mentally)  Every time things seem to be on the up, that means it's time for my inner saboteur to make an appearance.  I never plan for it to happen, but somehow it always does and before I know it things are falling apart again. 

I realise that no healthy person would wish to be ill in any way, but I feel like I ought to be the anomaly here.  Every sign of outward health feels like intense betrayal.  Doesn't my body know I'm broken on the inside?  Having a healthy body makes me feel like more is expected of me than I can give.  I might have gained weight, but that doesn't mean I'm well.  My health is a heavy load on my shoulders, my reproductive health especially.  I would much rather be a childless physical tragedy rather than a social and emotional failure who simply doesn't have the aptitude to live the life that society expects.   

My body doesn't seem to understand the fact that I don't feel well.  The only time I've ever felt like my body was in sync with my brain was when I was at the depths of my anorexia with slowed up digestive system and a dodgy heart.  I know starvation isn't the way forward, but I wish my body would give me an alibi.