My first blood

26 Years ago today, on a beach in Myrtle Beach, I started my first bleed. Right there beside the Atlantic Ocean… maybe I really am a mermaid. 🧜‍♀️🌙💓

There is nothing I love more than being a woman, and so much of that love lives in my womb, the sacred portal that connects me across time and space. When I bleed, I hear the echoes of my ancestors. Their pain, their resilience, their wisdom… all transmuted with each shedding. My blood fertilizes my garden all year long, helping to balance the soil and reminding me that my body is part of the same cycles as the earth.

The moment I discovered my mother changing what I called her “diaper,” I was hooked. Wide-eyed, I listened as she explained why she needed pads and how one day I would need them too. My world changed in that moment. I no longer wanted to be a girl. I was ready to become a mystical woman.

I wanted the power to usher life into this world. To tend to my babies that would one day come from my blood.

As I grew into womanhood, especially after that first bleed, I also began to feel the weight of what it meant to be raised as female.

A woman whose blood was not entirely her own.

Her blood was for her family. For her community. For her eventual husband.

Tracking, tracking, tracking.

Not just my own cycle but everyone else’s needs, schedules, emotions, and expectations.

And yet, every month my bleed offered me one small doorway back to myself. One day that I could claim as mine.

The pain visible on my face. The slowing down that could no longer be ignored.

Rest suddenly allowed even if it arrived wrapped in backhanded comments like, "Wow, you’re a bit of a b*tch today… maybe go take a nap.”

Over the years, my relationship with my bleed changed.

What once felt like something to track for others slowly became something I listened to for myself.

My womb became more than a place that could create life.

It became a compass. A voice. A sacred center where I reclaim my autonomy again and again.

Each cycle reminding me that my body belongs to me.

That my voice is mine.

That being a woman is not a burden to carry for others it is a power to root into.

This is why I love being a woman.

Because every month my womb calls me back to myself.

When women begin to listen to that call together, something powerful shifts.

If you feel that stirring in your body too, I want to invite you into a Devoted Woman Gateway Call.

This is a conversation where we explore your relationship with your body, your cycles, and the parts of you that are ready to reclaim their voice and authority.

If your womb has been whispering for more truth, more autonomy, more devotion to yourself this space is for you.

The Devoted Woman gateway is open.

Start your journey here