You are not being difficult because you need to leave the meeting early; your body is asking for mercy, and that is a language everyone should learn to speak. Let’s ground ourselves in the truth that your health is not a negotiation with your employer.

I want you to take a deep breath right now. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Feel your shoulders drop away from your ears. That tension you’re holding? It’s likely not just about the spreadsheet due at five. It’s about the heavy, dull ache in your lower abdomen that has been whispering, then shouting, all morning. Living with fibroids is like carrying around a secret burden that no one else can see. You walk into the office, you smile, you type, you answer emails. But inside, there is this constant, low-grade war happening in your pelvis. The bloating that makes your favorite jeans feel like a vice. The fatigue that hits you like a wet blanket by two PM, even though you slept eight hours. And the pain. Oh, the pain that makes sitting still an act of endurance.

Here is the thing that keeps so many women up at night, not from lack of sleep, but from lack of permission. We spend so much energy managing our symptoms, but we spend even more energy managing the explanations. Why did you stand up during that conference call? Why do you keep going to the bathroom every twenty minutes? Why are you drinking water from three different bottles? We feel the need to justify our bodies to people who barely know us. We apologize for taking a sick day when we are technically 'at work.' We hide the heating pad under our desks like it’s contraband. I remember sitting in a boardroom once, sweat prickling my hairline despite the air conditioning, trying to explain why I couldn’t stay for the after-work drinks. I said I had a headache. A lie. A small, safe lie. But lying takes energy. And when you have fibroids, energy is your most precious currency.

Let’s talk about that word: explanation. We are conditioned to believe that if we don’t explain our needs, we will be perceived as flaky, uncommitted, or dramatic. So we craft narratives. We say, 'I’m just tired today,' when really, we are in significant discomfort. We say, 'I have a doctor’s appointment,' when really, we are seeking relief from cramping that feels like labor without the baby. This performance of normalcy is exhausting. It creates a layer of dissociation between you and your own reality. You are present in the room, but part of your brain is constantly scanning for threat, for judgment, for the moment someone might notice you wincing as you shift in your chair.

This constant vigilance raises your cortisol levels, which ironically can make inflammation worse, creating a vicious cycle. You hurt, you hide, you stress, you hurt more. It is a trap. And the worst part is that by hiding, you rob yourself of the support you actually deserve. When you say nothing, your coworkers assume you are fine. They schedule back-to-back meetings. They expect you to power through. They don’t know that every hour you sit there is costing you a piece of your vitality. Listen to what your body is whispering. If it were screaming, would they listen? Probably. But because it is a quiet, chronic whisper, we silence it ourselves. We decide that our comfort is less important than their convenience. And I am here to tell you, gently but firmly, that is a bargain you do not need to make.

So how do we break this cycle? How do we manage these symptoms without having to write a novel to HR every time we need to stretch? We start by reframing the narrative in our own heads. Your health is not a favor you are doing for your company by showing up. It is the foundation upon which you show up. Think of it this way: if your car had a check engine light on, would you drive it for six hours straight without stopping to ask what was wrong? No. You would pull over. You would check the fluids. You would prioritize the safety of the vehicle. Your body is far more complex and valuable than any car. Yet we treat it with less care than our iPhones.

Progress, not perfection. You do not need to come out with a full medical disclosure to set a boundary. You do not need to share your ultrasound results to ask for a standing desk or a flexible lunch break. There are neutral, professional ways to advocate for your needs that protect your privacy while honoring your reality. Instead of saying, 'My fibroids are killing me,' try saying, 'I am managing a health condition that requires me to take brief movement breaks throughout the day.' Instead of apologizing for leaving early, try stating, 'I have a recurring medical appointment I need to maintain.' Notice the difference? One invites pity or prying. The other commands respect. It is factual. It is firm. It does not invite debate. You are not asking for special treatment; you are requesting reasonable accommodation for a known physiological reality.

Let’s get practical. Because theory is nice, but I know you have a calendar to fill. First, master the art of the non-negotiable routine. Identify the times of day your symptoms flare. Is it mid-morning? Is it post-lunch? Block those times on your calendar as 'focus time' or 'buffer time.' Use them for tasks that require less physical exertion. If standing causes pressure, find a stool. If sitting causes pain, use a donut cushion or a wedge pillow. These are small tools, but they are powerful acts of self-respect. Second, normalize hydration and rest without fanfare. Keep a large bottle of water at your desk. Drink it. If you need to step away, step away. You do not need to announce where you are going. 'I’ll be right back' is a complete sentence. You are not required to provide an itinerary for your biological functions.

Third, build a ally network, not necessarily a confidant network. You do not need to tell everyone. Pick one trusted colleague. Maybe it’s the person who sits next to you, or the manager who values output over presence. Share only what you need to facilitate your work. 'I sometimes experience fatigue that makes afternoons challenging. I’ve found that walking for ten minutes helps reset my focus. Please bear with me if I step out occasionally.' This gives them context without giving them your medical history. It shifts the dynamic from 'she is unreliable' to 'she has a strategy.' Most people are willing to accommodate when they understand the solution. They just need you to offer one.

I want to circle back to something I mentioned in a previous episode about waking in the silent house. There is a similar kind of silence we need to cultivate at work. The silence of not explaining. The peace of letting your actions speak louder than your apologies. When you stop justifying your existence in the workplace, you free up a tremendous amount of mental bandwidth. That bandwidth can be redirected toward creativity, toward connection, toward actually enjoying your life outside of nine to five. Imagine what you could do with that energy. Maybe you could read a book. Maybe you could cook a nourishing meal. Maybe you could simply sit in the garden and watch the light change.

This is about reclaiming your joy from the grip of chronic pain and social anxiety. Fibroids can steal your vitality, yes. But they do not have to steal your voice. Your voice is calm, clear, and necessary. You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to prioritize your well-being without guilt. This isn’t about being fierce or angry; it’s about being steady. It’s about knowing that your body is working hard for you, carrying the weight of your days, and it deserves kindness. Not just from others, but from you. Start treating yourself as the priority you truly are. The world will adjust to match your new boundaries. It might take time. People might push back. But you will stand firmer each time. And slowly, the noise will fade, replaced by the quiet joy of living authentically, comfortably, and fully in your own skin.

Thank you for letting me sit with you in this space today. Remember, you are not alone in this struggle, and you do not owe anyone an explanation for protecting your health. Be gentle with yourself. Take that break. Drink that water. Step outside for fresh air. You are doing enough. This episode is general information, not medical advice — please talk with your own doctor about your health. Until next time, keep listening to your body. It knows the way.