Part I: Context

Autumn is the last week of my cycle, usually days 21-26 or so. I’m born female, so I’ve got a clock built into my body. I use to think this was a huge misfortune for my sex. As a young adult a Mormon leader giving my to-be husband a pep talk on marriage said women carried the consequences of Eve’s sin, and it was something husband’s just have to be patient with. Poor guys! After experiencing my first pregnancy and childbirth, I resented my period more fiercely. What kind of biological joke was it that one of the two sexes would carry from a young age the brunt of monthly bleeding, cramps, and mood swings to the body altering of pregnancy, the hazards of childbirth, the 2 years of up-and-down recovery (for each baby might I add), and then menopause which can mess you up for years? The second punchline of the same joke is that while women often have difficulty with orgasm, they are weaker and attractive to men who can and do orgasm multiple times a day, and could overpower a woman if they wanted to. That was all the evidence I needed to be convinced that God was a man- because clearly the one making all the decisions was at best biased, maybe retributive, or worse, malicious. Maybe Eve really did just fuck it up for all cursed with a vagina.

That was a different time of my life- a time when I saw the world pretty much through lenses that were also crafted by men. The narrative makes sense right? If you believe in God, if you’re traditionally religious, and if you see the way the world works…it’s not a hard narrative to accept that men not only have it better, but are thus called to lead and protect their women.

When those lenses finally came off, life changed. It was a gradual process- kind of like what I always imagined a spiritual conversion to feel like. Now I feel completely differently about being a woman. It’s a gift I celebrate and rarely take for granted anymore. A big part of that is because of my cycle, not despite it.

Part II: The Most Hated Part of the Cycle

I’m a late September baby, a Libra, and a natural sucker for all things Autumn. I use to mourn Autumn’s passing as soon as it started, knowing how fleeting those precious months were of perfect temperatures (warm summer-like days and crisp late afternoons). Going from a summer of go-go-go, extra long days packed with activities, to earlier bedtimes, hot soupy dinners, and restarting Gilmore Girls and my list of fall movies feels like a literal signal to my nervous system that I can let go. Despite the stress of oncoming commercialized holidays and the excessive number of birthdays we celebrate, fall is the season that feels most like home.

As it turns out, Autumn is wired into my body and I’ve been missing out on it for over a decade. For the week leading up to my period, I was so busy hating my body and the inconvenience of these relentless changes that it never occurred to me that my body was experiencing a season I was meant to observe, learn from, and benefit from. I can’t count the number of times I raged at my PMS symptoms for throwing off my carefully crafted routines and ambitions with deep depression spells, an inability to wake up in the mornings, so much crying, brain fog, lack of energy, bloating, insecurity, uncontrollable rage, and loss of enthusiasm for any of the things I liked. A week of that every month makes it really hard to stay on track at anything you care about-this is just pre menstruation mind you, the period hasn’t even come yet, at which point enters cramps, light headedness, sluggishness, and for me, migraines. You’ve just lost almost half the month, aka, half your life, to something to which there is no cure. Or so I thought.

Everything changed for me when I was taught in my mid twenties that I had been living under the delusion of a world order built and designed by men- the sex most ill-equipped on their own to build a life in harmony with our mother planet. They are the sex built to survive, not necessarily to thrive. That’s where women come in. That delusion shattered when I was taught to see the symptoms I’d loathed for so long more like that old Willow tree in Pocahontas- gentle guidance from the Infinite Whatever helping me get where I most want to go.

Part III: Credit where credit is due, the book Wild Power by Alexander Pope and Sjanie Wurlitzer

This is the book that fundamentally changed not just the way I see my femininity but also the way I live and structure my life. On the topic of “Autumn” (typically days 15-the start of bleed), they describe pre-menstruation as the phase of truth-telling and reckoning. Where Spring and Summer are outward-facing and accommodating, Autumn turns the lens inward and around with unsparing honesty. They describe it as the phase where the “psychic housecleaner” or “inner editor” arrives — the part of you that can no longer tolerate what isn’t working in your life, your relationships, your commitments, your compromises.

The purpose of Autumn, they argue, is discernment and sorting. The heightened sensitivity, irritability, and “edge” that get pathologized as PMS are, in their reading, a feature, not a bug — a signal system showing you exactly where your boundaries have been crossed, where you’ve been over-giving, and where you’ve been lying to yourself. The premenstrual woman sees through things.

They talk about Autumn as the phase that calls for completion — finishing, editing, saying no, clearing. It’s not a creative-generation phase; it’s a pruning phase, and the quality of your Winter (bleed) and the next cycle depends on what you let go of here.

A line of thought I remember being central: when women suppress or override Autumn’s signals — pushing through, being “nice,” ignoring the rising no — the truth comes out sideways as rage, despair, or breakdown. Honored, the same energy becomes clarity, leadership, and a kind of priestess-like authority. Autumn is the gateway to the inner world, they argue, the veil thinning, intuition sharpening, dreams getting louder — preparing for the descent into Winter.

Part IV: What That Means for a Dreamer Like Me

I’ve been paying attention ever since reading that book- and boy let me tell you something- I’m converted. I’m converted in a way no religion or spiritual woowoo was ever able to do for me. This information and perspective transformed what I had always seen as a personal failing (more specifically, my inability to sustain enthusiasm, focus, and discipline towards a single dream) to my biggest learning opportunity- a message from something infinitely wise within myself. All this time I’d been demanding that I show up the same way all the time, with sprinkles of “me time” here and there, when it felt most convenient. It’s like demanding trees to blossom year round yet cursing them for shedding their leaves come the cold season.

Now every month, I anticipate a week or so where my dream will not feel very appealing to me anymore. I will question if I want it, if it’s worth it. I’ll feel my attention pulled to things I’ve neglected, like tidying my home, gardening, or going on slow walks instead of runs. I’ll turn off my music and podcasts and opt instead to drive in silence, or choose to listen to things that invite me inward instead of demanding my growth. I don’t write songs, and I don’t perform. I don’t post on socials or plan my career. I only play my instruments and sing when it feels good and just for fun. This practice alone, once a month, has transformed me.

All of this brings such an unexpected amount of clarity, especially when my period actually comes. I journal about what’s been feeling good, and what maybe needs to change. Sometimes it’s about redelegating house chores more evenly, eating healthier, realizing what’s off balance and where I want to put more energy the next month. A lot of times it’s about re-evaluating why I do what I do, and if it’s still feeling good for me. Life before was like a constant upstream swim-and there’s not a whole lot of room to dream and design your life intentionally when you’re doing that.

I’m less emotional as a result. When I do this well, my “symptoms” really do ease off a lot. A spiritual gap has been filled that I’ve been ignoring since leaving Mormonism over 6 years ago. I’ve felt more spiritual than ever before. Above all, I’ve never been more grateful to be a woman. It is a truly special privilege and gift to have such a direct connection with the forces that drive all life. To see the moon change, the waters rise and fall, the seasons come and go, the fruits and vegetables come in and out of season and be reminded so frequently that we are a part of something very special.