To my 21-year-old self:

You weren’t to know then. You weren’t to know that this would be one of the most profound experiences so far, that it would lead to where you are. It was a wake-up call for sure, you grew up quick. You kept it hidden from a few dear ones, and you still do. Others you told loud and proud. But you are where you are now because of it and it’s wonderful. 

That strange alien feeling you felt when you looked in the mirror, that surreal niggling in your belly, that blood, oh that blood! And pain, the pain you endured for three whole days. Those clots and gushes and rushes and twinges. And that week you spent in bed. It taught you so much, all without realising. And you’re so much stronger because of it. From your naivety after the second set of pills - “oh no you can’t take the bus home dear, we’ll call you a cab”– to feet on the seat, taxi driver looking mad, uterus starting to contract within twenty minutes, he doesn’t understand! To lying on your sister’s bed alone, cat comes to see what’s up, he sits right on the spot, and you look deep into his eyes and you both get it, you both know exactly what’s going on. He’s there, he’s got you. The pain gets worse, you call an old friend you’ve not spoken to in months. She’s there in a hot sec, got your back, helps you to the loo, changes your pad. She stays a while, chats and soothes you, gossips and amuses you. When sleep arrives, you’re out for the count.

Almost five years and counting, what a landmark that was. But you’re much better off for it, you’re stronger than ever before. It’s ignited a fire in your belly, a real passion for change, and you’re on your way to advocating for others, and helping heal their pain.

Much love, 

L