Page 269 of Tell Me I'm Enough

My period, who is late.

I know it’s late because I checked yesterday…and the day before that…and the day before that—like a psycho, like someone who’s tryingreallyhard not to think about the fact that she has been tired and nauseous and weirdly emotional recently and just blaming it all on college life.

I’ve missed two periods, but that’s normal for me. My cycles have been irregular ever since I started getting them at thirteen. This has to be it coming. But damn, it’s like they get backed up or something and hurt more the longer I go between having them.

Once the cramping eases up a little, I try to sit up and regret it immediately. My vision goes white, and I’m instantly dizzy as the pain comes back full force. I have to grip the side of the mattress until it passes and the room steadies.

I throw my legs over the bed, needing to get up, but the room tilts from how lightheaded I feel. But I push through it, needing to get to the bathroom, needing to know if this is actually my period or not. I pull myself up and press my palms to the bed, the wall, and to the door until I’m out of the room and heading down the hall. Every step is painful. Every time I move slightly wrong or breathe in too deeply, the pain shoots through my abdomen and through my entire body, racking me with pain. It feels like there’s a knife being shoved into my uterus as slowly and as deeply as possible.

When I finally get to the community bathrooms down the hall, I throw the door open, making the lights come on from the sensors. It’s too quiet in here at this time, and every sound feels jarring.

I walk in, still holding onto my stomach until I move one of my hands to grip the side of the sink, steadying myself. When I look up, my face is paler than I’ve ever seen it before. I almost don’t recognize myself like this.

I can’t even seem to care how I look right now, though, still feeling like I’m actuallydying. A cramp hits hard again, and I double over, making a sound I’ve never made before. It’s so painful I want to drop straight to the floor, but I can’t. I need to get to a stall.

Now.

I rush over and shove one of the stall doors open, just barely getting my pants down and sitting down before a heavy rush leaves my body. Relief floods me instantly, knowing I was right and this was just my period—just a really bad one. I place my hand on the wall, trying to catch my breath from my pain, when I realize that blood is still coming out. It hasn’t stopped yet. I look down, and there’s so much blood, way more than normal. My stomach drops when the relief I just felt is quickly replacedwith more fear because the pain doesn’t stop or lighten up like it normally does; it gets…worse.

“Oh my gosh,” I whisper as a tear slips down my face.

It feels like my uterus is contracting, trying to force something out. The feeling makes my skin crawl, and the sirens in my head start blaring that this isn’t normal. I squeeze my eyes shut, rejecting the possibility of this being anything but my period.

What the hell is happening to me?

Another cramp hits, and I gasp, legs trembling as the nausea starts to roll through me.

I need a shower.

It’s the only thing that feels like it might give me some relief. I wipe quickly as my hands start to tremble, wadding up toilet paper as a makeshift pad temporarily. When I go to stand, I realize how pointless that was because the blood soaks right through and starts to drip down my legs.

Scared that I’ll get blood all over the community bathroom floor, I quickly run over to the showers, pushing through the pain.

Okay.

Okay.

It’s just your period.

It’s just really bad.

Because it was late.

That happens.

That’s normal.

Fuck…this doesn’t feel normal.

I slip into a shower stall and try to turn on the water, but my hands are shaking so badly that I can barely grip the faucet.

I eventually get it on and wait for it to heat up, hunched over. For a moment, the heat finally makes me feel like I can breathe, like maybe I was just overreacting, that was the worst of it. Butthe heat only helps for about thirty seconds, then the pain spikes again. This time feels like an intense ripping sensation. It makes me want to scream out crying, but I hold it in and bite my tongue until it passes.

This is a literal scene from a horror movie right now.

Especially with the amount of blood still coming out of me.

I brace my hands against the tile wall to steady myself and to give me something to press against, something to push into, like it’ll transfer the pain. Every wave that comes is worse than the last, and I don’t know what else to do. I just want it to stop.