When that time of the month rolls around, the week before it strikes my body is a time where all the physiological reactions that fuel my thoughts are heightened. I have this theory, (I came up with today haha) that every woman is given the gift of intuition and insight because of their cycle. It weakens your body, and thus brings out the the real you, the broken, fearful, and vulnerable you. The walls we use to protect ourselves and the masks we wear seem to get crumbly, and all those things we try so hard to keep contained just start leaking out through the cracks (and that is why we feel so feeble and emotional at this time). If you hold anger or hatred then those things show (ever been around an angry woman on her period?), if you hold sorrow and pain then the tears flow at the simplest of words, or if shame and regret then the feelings of guilt are exacerbated. Now I don't know how and when men have similar moments, but I know they experience the same emotions that must be triggered by different things. As for my theory, I see now that even these broken moments are a blessing to thank God for. I am grateful to be shown what's truly in my heart, as painful and overwhelming as it is to see, it brings me down from the high foggy places to the ground where I see more clearly. To see even if just for a few days where the root of my fears are stemming from so that I can evaluate them with better clarity, pray, and give them to God, is a tremendous act of kindness on Gods part. Sometimes it feels like those moments are the only real pockets of sincerity, in my busy body life, that I truly repent; a sobbing wreck before a loving Father. The walls I built out of sand are blown down by the fierce winds, and the real me behind them is exposed. I used to hate it, dreaded the days before my cycle because I knew I'd be an emotional wreck, and I would make plans to stay away from anyone so that no one would see me cry. I had an image to protect, one that made people think I was confident, strong, and determined. So when it came time for the winds to break me, I'd make sure I was alone. And then I'd cry like a storm over the ocean. Perhaps this is a silly theory, to make such a strange connection, but as I sit here on my bed the morning after a night of crying (and repenting haha) I feel so grateful. I used to wonder what true repentance would look like, and was afraid because I thought that surely I would not be able to stop crying if I ever decided to truly repent. How could I live like that? The shame and guilt I had in me felt too heavy to just be thrown away, to give them to Jesus, just like that, felt too easy and undeserving. The grace and love of such an act would crush me. But here I am, the morning after repentance, and I am lighter than yesterday, but most of all I sense in me a bubbling hope. Hope is freeing. Hope sets me back on the right path, dusts off my clothes and nudges me to start walking again. So I'm walking, no longer carrying that load that weighed me down, but I know there will be more objects along the way that I will greedily try to take with me, accumulating another load, but my hope, this hope I have right now, says that Christ walks with me, and He will be the wind that breaks my stride before the load kills me. He will not leave me or abandon me, but will do what is necessary to save me, even and especially from myself. So whether my life appears to be going well or to be struggling under a painful load, I can be grateful. My Jesus walks with me.
-J
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