The summer before 7th grade, I was spending the day at soccer camp, when the blue sky quickly filled with dark storm clouds that began dumping rain on us and threatening us with bright flashes of lightning. The camp counselors quickly moved us into the field house and called our parents to pick us up. Upon returning home, I began peeling off my soaking wet clothes. As I did, I realized my underwear was not just soaked from the rain.

My first period had arrived. I spent the next 7 days wondering on how earth I would survive having periods once a month for the rest of my reproductive life when they seemed to require changing my pad once every hour or two. The heaviness was just chalked up to my pubescent hormones and shrugged off by my mom.

To my pleasant surprise, I did not have another period for another 6 months. During those 6 months, this seemed like the best thing ever. However, I paid dearly when it finally did arrive. This time, it lasted for 14 days, with the same life-disrupting flow of the first period.