A personal journey into womb healing, and what I found when I finally stopped running from the pain
By Tamara · Inspire Your Soul
If you found your way here, something in you was already looking. Trust that.
For most of my life, my period arrived like a punishment. The first two days would take me completely offline, curled into myself, out of sorts, wondering what I had done to deserve this. I would ask myself, genuinely and with frustration: why would our bodies do this to us? Monthly. Without fail. Why bleed so heavily, hurt so deeply, be so completely undone by something that was supposedly natural?
Nobody around me had a satisfying answer. So I started looking for one myself. What I found on that search changed not just how I experience my period. It changed how I understand myself entirely.
It began simply: is this normal? Not the clinical version of normal, but the deeper question underneath it. Should women be suffering like this? Is there something we are missing about what this experience is actually for?
I started reading about the womb. Not as anatomy, but as energy. As a centre of power. I began to encounter ideas that felt both completely foreign and deeply familiar at the same time. That the womb is not just a physical organ. That she holds memory. That she stores what we have not yet processed. Our grief, our anger, our unexpressed truths, the emotions we tucked away to keep functioning, to keep surviving, to keep showing up for everyone else.
And then I booked a cacao womb healing session. I did not know exactly what to expect. What I did not expect was to cry the way I cried. What came up in that space was not gentle. Emotions I had not named in years rose to the surface. Anger, grief, hurt, a kind of ancient exhaustion. Experiences from my past arrived uninvited and asked to be looked at. It was not comfortable. It was, however, the beginning of something I cannot undo.
My womb was not punishing me. She was communicating with me. And I had not been listening.
You know that one cupboard in your home. The one you have been avoiding. The one where, every time something feels too big or too inconvenient to deal with, you open the door, shove it in, and shut it quickly before anything falls out? That is what many of us have been doing with our womb space. For years. Decades, even.
The pain we could not process after that relationship. The rage we were told was unbecoming. The grief that had no space to be felt. The beliefs handed to us about what it means to be a woman, that quietly shaped how we move through the world without us ever consciously agreeing to them.
I later went for a womb clearing session with a wellness practitioner, and what struck me most was this: our bodies are deeply, intricately connected. When one part of us is blocked or out of sync, the womb in particular, the whole system feels it. When we begin to open that space, to actually clear what has accumulated there, things begin to move. Energy flows differently. Life feels less like resistance and more like rhythm.
I also learnt something that stopped me completely still. In many traditions, it is believed that our wombs carry not only our own unprocessed pain, but the grief and wounds of the women who came before us. Our mothers. Our grandmothers. The long line of women who never had the language or the permission to heal what they were carrying. That pain does not disappear on its own. It gets passed forward. Until someone in the line decides to stop. To turn around. To clear it.
Womb healing is not just personal. It is ancestral. You are not only healing yourself. You are clearing a path for the women who come after you.
I want to be honest with you. My period still comes with pain. I am not going to promise you a miraculous physical transformation, because that would not be the truth and you deserve more than that. But something else has shifted profoundly. My relationship to the experience itself.
I used to dread it. I would count down the days with quiet anxiety, bracing myself for what was coming. Now I approach those days differently. When the pain rises, I do not fight it. I get soft. I fill a hot water bottle, I make a warm cup of herbal tea, I place my hands on my belly and I ask: what is coming up that needs to be cleared? What are you trying to show me?
What comes up is not always comfortable. Sometimes it is tears without a clear reason. Sometimes it is memories. Some painful, some simply unfinished. Moments I glossed over. Things I stored away because life did not pause long enough to let me feel them. But I now understand that these are not random. My womb has been keeping them safe, waiting for me to be ready to receive them.
There is also the matter of how I was taught to think about my period itself. In some cultures, mine included at times, menstruation is spoken of as something unclean. Something to manage quietly and get through as quickly as possible. That belief had settled into me more deeply than I ever realised. Womb healing has asked me to unlearn that. Completely and without apology.
I do not dread my period anymore. I embrace it. My period is no longer something that happens to me. She is something that speaks to me.
If something in this is speaking to you, here are the practices that have opened the most for me. You do not need to do all of them. Start with one. Start with just a hand on your belly and a single slow breath. That is enough.
The breath of awareness
Close your eyes. Rest your hands over your lower belly. Feel the warmth beneath your palms. Breathe in slowly and imagine golden light filling that space. Breathe out and release. Tension, heaviness, whatever has been sitting there unclaimed. Even just this, for five minutes, is an act of return. You are telling her: I am here. I am listening. I have not forgotten you.
Write to her
Open a journal and write to your womb as if she is a wise woman you have been too busy to visit. Ask her: what do you need from me today? What am I holding that is ready to leave? What truth have I been afraid to hear? Write without editing. Let whatever comes, come.
Move with intention
Gentle hip circles. Swaying. Dancing barefoot on the earth. You do not need choreography. You need permission to move like you belong in your own body. Movement opens what words sometimes cannot reach.
Honour your cycle
Your cycle is a map, not an inconvenience. Rest deeply during your bleeding days. This is sacred, not weakness. Dream and plant new intentions in your follicular phase. Create and expand at ovulation. Reflect and release in your luteal phase. When you work with your cycle rather than against it, your womb becomes one of your greatest teachers.
Nourish the space
Warm herbal teas. Red raspberry leaf, nettle, chamomile. A hot water bottle held close. Slow, gentle mornings during your bleed. These are not indulgences. They are how you tell your body: love lives here now.
The womb does not shout. She whispers. She speaks in sensation, in knowing, in the ache that rises when something is unresolved and in the warmth that blooms when you finally come home to yourself. She has been speaking all along. We were simply never taught to listen.
I am still on this journey. I do not have all the answers. I am not sure any of us ever do. But I know what it feels like to stop running from this part of myself. To turn toward her instead. To sit in the middle of pain with my hands on my belly and ask, with genuine curiosity and love, what she is trying to show me.
You do not need a special session or a ceremony to begin. You need five minutes. A quiet room. Your hands on your body. And the willingness to say, for perhaps the very first time: I am here. I am listening. I am no longer abandoning you.
She has been waiting. Patiently, lovingly, faithfully. She has been waiting.
Your next step
If you are ready to take your first step, download or listen to this Womb Healing Meditation by Jan Gazard. A gentle, held space to begin coming home to yourself.
For more about Jan's work visit jangazard.com
If this stirred something in you, you are welcome to continue the journey at iysoul.com — a space created for exactly this.
We Grow. We Learn. We Heal.