Over the years I've used Misha's Room as a space to process life, share information, talk some shit, and find purpose in this world that gives me so many reasons to lose hope. This is yet another one of those opportunities but instead of deep diving into heartbreak or the inner workings of white supremacy, I want to vent about a silent part of my life that reallllly grinds my gears. I'm a PCOS girlie, I don't think I've shared that before. PCOS is the acronym for Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (or Please Carry On Somewhere which is what I've been telling/calling her for a long portion of my life, but anyway). In short, PCOS is a hormonal disorder that impacts people with ovaries by causing symptoms like irregular or absent menstrual cycles, excess androgen levels (like increased testosterone), and enlarged ovaries with cysts. Because PCOS is linked to insulin resistance and hormonal imbalances, it can result in acne, weight gain, excessive hair growth, and fertility issues. Although treatment varies on a case by case basis, most medical professionals suggest lifestyle changes, medications, and hormone therapy to manage the symptoms. PCOS peeps are also encouraged to be mindful of their stress levels as a strategy to limit symptoms.
Hopefully you enjoyed the brief lesson on reproductive health and I'm always down to increase education but again, I'm here to vent. So here's how this bitch has been grinding my gears:
- For starters, she had me thinking I was the modern day Virgin Mary back in middle school. I remember getting my first cycle (rather late in comparison to my peers) and feeling relieved because it finally happened. Fast forward to the next month, shorty was a no show. And the next month. And the next month. And by month 4 I was ready to solve the missing menstrual mystery. My Mama took me to the gynecologist, I was put on birth control and boom. Period problem solved, or so I thought.
- Birth control had its own effects on my body like long and heavy menstrual cycles coupled with mood swings. By senior year of high school, I was in a committed lesbian relationship and over the monthly messes that seemed to last forever, so I stopped taking birth control and poof. The period vanished.
- I thought all was well for a few years until I started spotting on and off for extended periods of time. I would be in the clear one moment then the Red Sea seemed to flow out of me the next. It was crazy, which drove me crazy. My new gynecologist diagnosed me with PCOS and prescribed hormonal therapy to help make my cycles more manageable. This was a real win for me (which is a form of gender affirming care that also benefits cisgender women, so we also suffer when politicians limit access).
- Fast forward, now I’ve gotten a few degrees and have been strongly contemplating pregnancy so I reached out to a fertility specialist to see how and if my condition would potentially impact the process. I found a plethora of eggs (shoutout to God), but also a bunch of polyps in my uterus. I had to have surgery to remove the abnormal growths of tissue in my uterus and have been having random spotting spells ever since. Welcome to 2025.
Now this vent session doesn’t end with a full circle moment that sums up a beautiful relationship with my health condition, she still gets on my nerves. However, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t at least share a little joy. So here are a few moments that soften the blow when I reflect on my PCOS journey thus far:- Adjusting to these physiological responses deepened my relationship with my body through things like learning how to identify signs of extreme stress that correlated with triggered spotting. I remember getting frustrated with my body (because my girl acts up at some of the most inopportune times) then realizing that we both deserved more grace. Mindfulness practices, mirror work, and creative expression came in handy.
- Conversations about my PCOS symptoms with partners allowed us the space to be more vulnerable with one another. I challenged myself to talk openly about what may be happening for me and partners have been challenged to hold tender spaces so we feel comfortable communicating uncomfortable things (like “hey baby, your beard is coming in thick”). This also gives space to creatively play in different ranges of achieving pleasure (let me know if the PCOS peeps want tips).
- Many of my close friends are well aware of my PCOS problems, so they’ve also been included in discussions about treatment tactics and serious scares. They’ve helped me process unexpected news about several cysts (I had 8 at the same time once before), the potential presence of a dermoid cyst, and even the polyp removal procedure (hysteroscopic polypectomy). These moments also sparked discussions that resulted in more resources shared and questions to ask our healthcare professionals. I got educated and won’t shut up about the things I’ve learned.
- I’ve become more of a student and advocate for reproductive justice, gender affirming care, and access to care by professionals that practice cultural humility. I won’t and didn’t shame my doctors, but know that I went through quite a few that did not consider how our identities informed our relationship (that was supposed to center my wellbeing). I won’t stand for it.
All in all, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome has definitely (and continues to) let her presence in my life be known. We don’t always get along, but the small victories I find tend to be just enough to see me through the storms and uncertainty. I appreciate the ongoing opportunities to intentionally love myself, my mind, and my body (my vulva and reproductive organs specifically) more tenderly. Happy Black (in)Fertility Awareness Week my fellow PCOS peeps and the folks that love us!