When Truth Rises Before the Bleed

Mascari, Brooke | January 10, 2026

There is a particular tension that arrives in the luteal phase (the week before menstruation) — a quiet tightening, an inward pull. Energy drops, patience thins, and yet there’s this unmistakable urge to clean, to organize, to make things tidy. Closets get rearranged. Emotional shelves get dusted. Loose ends suddenly feel intolerable.

This phase is often misunderstood as simply being “moody” or “irritable.” But what if the luteal phase isn’t a flaw in our design — what if it’s a feature?

During this time, many women feel an undeniable sense of ick. Things that we’ve tolerated all month suddenly feel wrong. Conversations replay in our minds. Dynamics that felt manageable now feel heavy. Our intuition gets louder, and what’s out of alignment stops being ignorable.

And the hardest part? Our filter disappears.

The luteal phase doesn’t lend itself to politeness for politeness’s sake. It doesn’t care about smoothing things over or keeping the peace at our own expense. This is often when PMS or PMDD shows up — not as a punishment, but as a signal. Our nervous system has less capacity. Our tolerance window narrows. And so what has been quietly brewing beneath the surface comes forward.

This is often when relationships feel strained. Words spill out faster than we’d like. Reactions feel sharper. But that doesn’t automatically mean something is wrong with us — or that every relationship experiencing tension needs to end. What it may mean is that something needs refinement. Something needs truth. Something needs to be named.

The luteal phase is not asking us to burn everything down. It’s asking us to pay attention.

To notice what keeps showing up as irritation. To observe what consistently feels off. To ask ourselves where we’ve been overriding our own needs, silencing our intuition, or tolerating misalignment because it felt easier.

When we allow ourselves to bring these things into the light — gently, vulnerably, honestly — something shifts. Conversations deepen. Boundaries clarify. Authenticity replaces suppression. And often, when we do this work before the bleed, the menstrual phase itself becomes softer, more spacious, more easeful.

It’s as if the body exhales.

Because the menstrual phase is not separate from the luteal phase — it is the culmination of it.

The Rawness of the Bleed

My most recent cycle reminded me of something I think we’ve collectively forgotten: the menstrual cycle is profoundly primitive.

My bleed was harder this month. More painful. I had to take painkillers. I still showed up to work, but had to leave early because I couldn’t stand (in hindsight, I really feel I should have listened to my body and stayed home, taking a sick day. I give myself grace, though, because I am still learning to listen to the wisdom of my body). It was inconvenient. Disruptive. Unignorable.

And it made me sit with something deeper.

The menstrual cycle does not ask for permission. Mother Nature moves through our bodies whether it fits our schedules or not. Whether it aligns with productivity culture, modern expectations, or convenience. It happens anyway.

Every month, our bodies enact a quiet ritual of life and death. Creation and release. Pain and relief. There is something almost barbaric about it — blood, cramping, fatigue, vulnerability. And yet there is also something deeply sacred.

When we try to shut it down, numb it, suppress it, or erase it because it feels inconvenient, the body suffers. Fertility suffers. Hormones suffer. The system rebels.

This cycle is not meant to be sanitized or optimized into oblivion. It is meant to be honored.

The uterus sheds. The body detoxes. Old tissue releases. Sometimes it’s gentle. Sometimes it’s intense. Sometimes it feels like a violent storm moving through us. And sometimes it feels like a quiet, cleansing rain.

Both are part of the design.

There is a strange beauty in this process — even when it hurts. A kind of ancient magic in the way the body knows exactly what to do, even when we don’t understand it fully.

The luteal phase prepares us for this shedding. It brings awareness to what no longer belongs. The menstrual phase carries out the release.

When we listen — truly listen — to what the luteal phase is showing us, we don’t just bleed. We let go.

Of resentment. Of misalignment. Of swallowed words. Of versions of ourselves that are no longer true.

And in that letting go, there is relief.

Not because the cycle becomes easy or painless every time — but because it becomes meaningful.

The luteal phase asks us to tell the truth. The menstrual phase asks us to surrender.

Together, they remind us that our bodies are not broken — they are wise.

And when we stop fighting that wisdom, something ancient and powerful begins to heal.