Bloody hell.

Some days it really is just that much harder to get out of bed. And when you’re a women who’s bleeding, it’s even harder.

Now, I’m not here to bemoan the woes of women around the globe, and state how much easier men’s lives are, because they most likely aren’t. However, I would like to put forward the idea of bleeding days and the workplace.

Unless you work in an all female environment, you most likely don’t talk about what you feel like, much less that you are, in fact, bleeding. The stomach and leg cramps, the light-headedness, the rise in temperature – all these things you are dealing with on your own. You’re simply expected to get up and get on with in.

And yet in some other cultures this is seen as a sacred time, if not just a quiet time for women.

“Consider the practise of the Moonhut in some native cultures. At bleeding, women would gather together away from other members of the tribe to meditate, pray and receive guidance. Women doing this work together would have made this time more powerful due to thier combined collective energy. When their bleeding was over, these women would return to the tribe and offer guidance and advice based on their experiences.” www.menstruation.com.au

“In many other cultures, menstruating women went to a menstrual hut or a moon hut, (a small building away from the rest of the village). The people believed that women have incredible powers of healing and creativity, during menstruation, and that these powers should not be wasted on everyday work. Instead of working, a menstruating woman spent her time meditating on her life.” www.girlzone.com/bodyinsideoutwomanhood

This idea is really appealing to me. Having dragged myself into work today, where I feel I’ve been most unproductive, the concept of a moonhut is a dream come true. My mind is off somewhere else on the first day of bleeding, probably trying to escape the stomach and back ache that accompanies it. Concentration is difficult, unless it’s in a very quiet, and preferably dark place. Being surrounded by chirpy people and bright sunshine during this time is not my idea of a good time. Having to talk to people when you’d really rather claw their eyes out for no apparent reason is, quite frankly, a chore. And physical labour – gah. Sometimes just standing up is an effort, and all the muscles feel like they’re falling to the floor in a massive gooey heap. I could really use a day or two in a moonhut.

Instead, I have popped two 400g ibuprofen and just gotten on with it. With the anti-inflammatories pumping through my system, I’ve driven the 40 minute drive to work (and back) and fulfilled my obligations. And not very well, I have to admit.

Would things be different if men experienced the same thing every month? Would we get one or two day’s grace every month from work or other people demanding things of us at this delicate time? I wonder.