How Did I get my Period Back
A Journey from Restriction to Freedom, and lots of Ice-cream in between
HA is becoming a hot topic of conversation. It is still not recognised by (many) doctors and professionals. Still, it is a real thing and a real problem that comes with lots of side effects such as infertility, lack of libido, frequent injuries, food fears, osteoporosis, and lower body temperature.
What is Hypothalamic amenorrhea?
As explained wonderfully in Nicola Rinaldi’s book “No period, now what?”, amenorrhea is defined as a lack of period. This can be either primary or secondary, and it is normally caused by changes in the hypothalamus.
The hypothalamus regulates the menstrual cycle; this vital part of the brain releases GnRH (gonadotropin-releasing hormone), which stimulates the release of LH (luteinizing hormone) and FSH (follicle-stimulating hormone).
When a woman develops HA, the hypothalamus stops releasing enough GnRH, which in turn slows down LH and FSH production, ultimately preventing ovulation.
In simple words, it’s our body’s way to tell us than we are not ready to procreate.
I did suffer it from HA twice. The first time, I had no idea what the heck was wrong with my body. Why everyone out there was getting a regular cycle while I wasn’t? I felt inadequate, it was scary, and I kept it for myself. Whenever I commented on it, everyone would tell me how lucky I was, as I didn’t have to deal with annoying pain, moodiness, and different symptoms monthly.
Little did they know that not having a cycle not only wreaks havoc with the health of the body, but it also makes you feel less feminine and sexy on top of causing hair loss and brittle bones.
To make the matter worse, I was extremely fit, and I lived on an organic, almost vegan diet, and I was often complimented for my food choices. Unfortunately, back then, no one told me that I needed a pizza, more than I needed another sappy tasting greenish smoothie.
Also, caffeine was my bestest friend, as I had so little energy that I needed an external cortisol kick to be able to keep my eyes open throughout the day.
Although I was apparently healthy, the reality is that I was stuck in a vicious cycle of food obsession, bodily pain (rest days are for chickens), and I was infertile.
Deep down inside of me, I knew what I had to do; I daydreamed about days where I could sit guilt-free, and indulge in my favourite meal without worrying too much about the consequences. Yet, I kept waking up before dawn, go for a 10 km run, skip breakfast, have two coffees, work all day and argue with my husband, as I always was extremely edgy, and I had to lash out my unhappiness on someone.
I finally accepted my defeat and went to see a GP. We waited for so many years for my period to arrive, and we got to the point where we really wanted to have a baby. On top of it, I was a nut case.
I was depleted to the bones, and all I wanted was a break…a break from myself. The doctor runs all the necessary tests, and after checking my labs and pelvic ultrasound, she diagnosed me with PCOS.
Do you know what the cure for PCOS is? To restrict carbs and exercise a bit more.
I got sent home with the excuse of keeping up with my insanity. I was debilitatingly upset and elated at the same time. The disordered me was having a ball, while the healthy me was crying out loud.
I got a period thanks to medical interventions (not ideal), and I ended up getting pregnant, which was the best and the worst thing that could have happened to me.
It was the best because I became a mum, and my life changed entirely, in the most amazing way.
But it was the worst thing because I started my pregnancy completely drained and depleted, and I got to a point where I couldn’t function any longer. To my amazement, I managed to breastfeed for 14 blissful months, but my body, and bones, and energy, and mental sanity paid the consequences.
Only when I read the book No Period Now What, and after indulging in many body-positive podcasts, I realised what my problem was. I climbed out of the hellish well I had (voluntarily) jumped into years before.
Stopping exercising was the hardest part. Exercise is healthy, right? True, but not if you are suffering from hypothalamic amenorrhea. Unfortunately, I had to go against all the preconceived notions of what a healthy lifestyle is, and I had to explain my new reality to incredulous friends and relatives.
I swapped running and HIIIT with yoga, gentle Pilates, and lots of walking. And first and foremost, I had to get rid of all the gadgets, such as fitness apps, Fitbit, calorie trackers, and so forth. I also had to keep my eyes shut every time I walked through a newsagency to prevent seeing the usual “Lose 5 kilos in a week “, “Belly only Pregnancy “ articles. It was a minefield.
And I’m saying all of this while being fully aware of my white thin middle-class privilege; I cannot imagine how hard it can be for many women in diverse bodies out there.
I also had to eat. And I ate a lot of crappy foods.
I could have gained weight with sweet potatoes and avocado (which could have been the most sensible thing to do), but I thought it was a good idea to have fun and go against all the fears while recovering from HA. Easy? Not so much.
It was all well and good sitting on my couch and devouring a chocolate loaded double dose of ice cream at the beginning of my journey. It was less fun when my clothing didn’t fit any longer, the belly was pocking outside my new bought pants, and my cycle hadn’t yet appeared.
But there was no plan B, and I kept trusting the process. The most significant shift happened when I tackled my stress levels; I knew that I was stressed, but I didn’t know how much.
I prioritised sleep and meditation, walks in nature, and time spent with my daughter.
There were days when I felt like a nutcase and incredibly unhappy. But I kept going, and I shared my story with as many people as I could to find energy, love, and sometimes reassurance.
If you are in my shoes, ask for help. There is no point in going through this process alone.
