The Sacred Grief: Why Every Period is a Creative Rebirth
I wrote this article to bridge the gap between biological reality and soulful introspection when it comes to creativity. Because to me, every month we bleed represents so much more than a simple biological process.
You might track your period (perhaps using an app) for fertility, mood swings, and other symptoms like breast pain, bloating, and oily skin. But I’ve yet to come across any app or book about cycle syncing to track them for grief.
This is a profound and overlooked intersection of biology and existentialism. While society tends to clinicalise menstruation as a period or reduce it to a list of symptoms , there is a much deeper, more ancient narrative at play - the recurring cycle of hope and mourning. When we bleed, we aren't just shedding a uterine lining, we are witnessing the passing of a version of the future that never came to be. And I mean that in every direction and depth, not just the potential for life, but for all types of creativity.
Here is an exploration of that "quiet grief" and what it represents for the creative spirit.
Note: this article is not meant to be dismissive or minimising of the grief experienced with the true loss of a pregnancy or when we are trying to conceive. If you have or are going through this kind of profound and devastating grief, then this article might be best left alone for now.
The Biological Funeral
Every month, the body performs a miracle of preparation. It builds a literal velvet cradle (the endometrium) and releases an egg. A tiny vessel containing half the blueprint for a human life. When conception doesn’t occur, the body must dismantle that complex architecture it spent weeks making and release it.
Biologically, this is a letting go. Emotionally, it can feel like a heavy, unnamable sadness. Even if you aren't trying to conceive, or don't want children at all, there is a subconscious mourning for the potentiality that existed for a fleeting moment in time, a door that opened and then closed.
It is the body throwing a five-course dinner party where no one showed up. It’s okay to feel the weight of that empty table.
The Creative Infradian Rhythm
Our menstrual cycle isn't just about making babies. It’s a blueprint for how we create anything. In a world that demands constant hustle, the menstrual cycle reminds us that destruction is a prerequisite for creation. To be a creator of art, businesses, or ideas, of literally anything, you must learn to bleed out what no longer serves you. To be brave and bold enough to let go of what isn’t aligned, isn’t taking you forward, is holding you back.
I often talk about how the menstrual cycle is like the four seasons of the year. But it can also be viewed as a creative process, giving us limitless possibilities that arrive and then depart.
Follicular: The Spark | Brainstorming and fresh starts.
Ovulation: The Bloom | Developing, launching, and being seen.
Luteal: The Pruning | Editing, refining, and identifying flaws.
Bleed: The Void | Releasing the unborn ideas, deep rest or reset
Think of the bleed as force-quitting all the open tabs in our brain (a very helpful visual concept for ADHDers also!). It is a hard reboot. If we don't allow ourselves to feel the quiet grief of the projects that didn't work or the ideas that died in the draft stage, we stay cluttered. Holding onto all of that is going to keep us stuck, immobilised, weighed down.
We must clear the RAM to make room for the next cycle's inspiration. An actual outward breath before we take the inhale to draw in the spark and the potentiality of What Next.
Reclaiming the Red Tent
Historically, many cultures didn't view this time as a curse, but as a radical sabbatical.
In the Navajo Kinaaldá ceremony, a girl’s first period is celebrated as her ascension to spiritual power.
In ancestral Red Tents, women withdrew from domestic work not because they were unclean, but because they were considered to be at their most prophetic.
During the bleed, the veil is thinnest. It is a time for collective dreaming, a moment to stop doing and start listening. The grief of the loss is balanced by the power of the vision.
Honour the Transition
If you find yourself feeling an inexplicable heaviness on day one of your cycle, try shifting your perspective from hormonal to honouring.
Acknowledge the Void: Give yourself permission to mourn the maybe versions of your life or the creative projects that didn't take root this month. See them not as a failure, but as an exploration of potential.
The Monthly Purge: Use the physical act of bleeding as a prompt to delete old files, clear your desk, or let go of a resentment. Honour what didn’t work out this month in the lens of divine timing - now just wasn’t the right time for this.
Respect the Exhale: You cannot inhale forever. The bleed is your body’s mandatory exhale. Take the time to feel it, truly experience it, and do what you do on an exhale - let go.
The Promise of the Cycle
The beauty of this specific kind of menstrual, creative grief is that it is cyclical, not terminal. Unlike other forms of loss, this one comes with a built-in promise of renewal. The potential for creation hasn't vanished, it has simply gone underground to hibernate.
Next time you are feeling sluggish and stuck during your bleed, and the ‘should’s’ and ‘must’s’ are gathering in your mind asking why you aren’t carrying on as normal or doing more (there’s a-whole-nother article on the patriarchy and capitalism in there around dishonouring a woman’s cycle that I’ll write another time) , bring yourself back to this: by honouring the release of this month's potential, you are clearing the soil for the next bloom.
