When Womanhood Knocked & Anxiety Answered
Life was going pretty smoothly… until August 13, 2019.
Why that specific day? Because that’s the day I woke up to the most terrible surprise of my life.
Hello, my lovely readers! It’s Pavithra, back again on MY TWISTED LIFE JOURNAL with another chaotic entry. In this blog, I’m sharing how I had my first-ever anxiety episode—triggered by my first period—while already drowning in the crisis that was 10th grade.
The Beginning of the End
source : vecteezy
Growing up, I was caught between two worlds. My parents came from different cultures, different states, and different traditions, yet I had spent my childhood in Bangalore, blissfully unaware of either. Until that day.
August 13, 2019.
You might be wondering, why this specific date? Well, that’s the day my body decided to betray me in the most dramatic way possible.
Everything had been going fine until that morning. I woke up, feeling slightly off—an unusual back pain, a weird heaviness in my body. And then, I spotted the first ever pimple on my face. Great, I thought, another failed skincare experiment. Irritated, I shrugged it off. Then came the cramps. A dull ache in my lower back, then my pelvis—it hurt. A lot. But I ignored it, blaming my sleeping posture
And then, I walked into the bathroom.
There it was. A pool of red.
I froze. My heart pounded. My mind screamed.
Oh my god. It’s happening. I’m dying.
I knew what periods were. I had read about them. Heard about them. Even expected them. But no one prepares you for that first time. No one tells you how it feels like a betrayal from your own body. Like one day, you’re a kid, and the next, the universe decides, “Congratulations! You’re a woman now. No take-backs.”
My brain short-circuited.
WHY? ME?
Wait—what do you mean “why me”?
I’m a girl. This was bound to happen.
But WHY SO SOON?!
Despite the storm inside my head, I somehow managed to stay calm. At least on the outside. I called out for my mom.
“MOM?? MOMMM!!”
She came running, probably assuming I had fallen, broken something, or set the house on fire. But no. I simply handed her the blood-stained towel like I was delivering evidence of a crime scene.
Her eyes widened. And then, she smiled.
“HOW?! Wait… aren’t you—?!” she trailed off, clearly overjoyed.
Excuse me? Overjoyed?
I was over here having a full-blown existential crisis, and my mother was acting like I had won an award. Apparently, in South Indian culture, a girl’s first period is a big deal. A whole festival kind of big deal. And I? I was clueless.
The Special Treatment (That I Did Not Ask For)
“Go take a shower and wash your hair,” she instructed.
Confused, I obeyed. But when I came out, freshly showered and wrapped in fresh clothes, the weirdness truly began.
I was made to sit in a separate room. A woman spread a mat in the corner and gestured for me to sit. Then, the bomb dropped.
“Don’t touch anything.”
Wait, what?
I watched in horror as my mom made frantic phone calls—to my dad, my relatives, possibly even the President for all I knew. My brother, confused and impatient, tried to sneak in to see me, but he wasn’t allowed near me either.
I felt like an outcast.
My own home felt foreign. My own family members were being instructed not to touch me. For the first time in my life, I felt different. Not in a good way.
Anxious. Alone. Overwhelmed.
And then, the worst news came.
“We’re going to your hometown,” my mom announced.
My hometown—a small, socially and technologically backward village in Andhra Pradesh. A place I had never been, but now, I was being shipped off there like a cultural sacrifice.
Panic set in.
My chest tightened. My breathing turned shallow. I wanted to cry, to scream, to run. But I was stuck. Stuck in a whirlwind of rituals and traditions that I didn’t understand.
The Rituals (Or: My Personal Horror Story)
The train ride to the village was a nightmare.
Cramps, exhaustion, discomfort—combine that with traveling in a crowded train, and you get third-degree torture.
When we arrived, I was paraded in front of family members I didn’t even know existed. My mom went around announcing my big news like she was handing out wedding invitations.
The anxiety? Oh, it skyrocketed.
Then came the rituals.
First, I was dressed in a white saree. Women surrounded me, adorning my hair with flowers, decorating me like some sort of festival deity. My uncle and aunt were assigned to perform the official rites.
I was made to sit on a woven coconut leaf mat while people I had never met walked in and out, offering me sweets, bananas, raw eggs, sesame oil, jaggery, and puffed rice.
I sat there, covered in turmeric, confused, exhausted, overstimulated.
My heart pounded. My hands felt clammy. My mind screamed again.
I don’t belong here.
Why is this happening?
Why am I being treated like an alien?!
I wanted to disappear.
Surviving the Chaos
For seven days, I was trapped in this unfamiliar world. Seven days of being excluded, isolated, and paraded like a showpiece. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything or anyone. It was like my very existence had become impure.
By the seventh day, I was done.
Finally, the rituals ended. The restrictions were lifted. And just like that, I was allowed to exist normally again.
It was overwhelming.
I had survived the most bizarre experience of my life. My first period, my first anxiety episode, my first cultural deep-dive—all at once.
As I packed my bags to leave, I realized something.
This experience? It was one for the books. A twisted, chaotic, anxiety-inducing, once-in-a-lifetime moment.
And now, it’s a memory.
One that I’m sharing with you.
Because life doesn’t come with a manual, but if it did, mine would be written in the strangest, most twisted font imaginable.
Let’s Talk!
Have you ever had a moment where life threw you into an unexpected cultural experience? Or maybe your first period story was just as chaotic as mine?
Drop a comment below and share your experiences—I’d love to hear them! And if you enjoy my twisted tales, don’t forget to subscribe and stick around for more. Let’s embrace this chaos together!
Until next time,
Pavithra~
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