Coming off of the pill, or rather the impacts of being on it for over a decade is something that hardly crossed my mind. Until very recently, those little baby-blockers were a staple of my nighttime routine.
So why did I decide to stop taking it after 10 successful years?
I first went on the pill before my 16th birthday. For two reasons, one being my very irregular periods, the second is well… self-explanatory. My GP had warned me about the potential side effects: weight gain, mood swings, acne, headaches – the full works. Thankfully, I never came across any problems.
The freedom of knowing when I was next due was great, but it dawned on me about a month ago, that I’m no longer 16. My wants and needs are totally different. My life has changed immeasurably, but the one constant was always this little dictator pill. I didn’t want to be ruled by artificial hormones anymore. And as soon as the idea sprung I knew it would be right for me.
It might be down to poor timing, but after about a week pill-free I got really ill. It was a 72-hour bout of nausea, dizziness, muscle aches, high temperatures and nipping in and out of the loo. Total carnage.
I’d also read up on post-pill acne and someone else told me that my boobs would shrink and I’m not going to lie – those were risks I didn’t want to take. HOWEVER, I’m happy to report that I’ve been feeling great ever since (boobs still intact).
Unexpectedly, I feel more in tune with my body and mind. I can’t quite remember life pre-pill, but I remember wondering over the years if my anxiety had anything to do with the contraceptive pill. A lot of my friends had also pegged similar questions and while I’m no scientist I’m guessing it played a part. I just couldn’t tell you to what degree.
For right now, I want to let my body ovulate in the way it intends too, without fueling myself with fake hormones.
The coil has never tickled my fancy (the thought alone makes me tense up), and just like the implant – I don’t want to subject myself to anything invasive. So that leaves me with trusty latex. It does the job, so what more could a gal ask for?