Field Note from Ep. 3 – I got my iud out: trusting my body, resting & reclaiming myselfEmbedEdit

There are seasons when our bodies whisper truths we’ve long ignored—quiet nudges that something is ready to shift. And if we’re lucky, we start listening.

This episode came from one of those whispers.

It’s about my IUD. But really, it’s about so much more. It’s about trust. It’s about grief. It’s about releasing control in favor of deep, embodied faith.

For the past five years, I’ve had an IUD—and with it, no period, no hormonal swings, no cyclical ebbs and flows. Just the steadiness of synthetic regulation. Convenient. Controlled. Predictable. And for a time, it served me deeply.

But somewhere in the stillness, I started to hear something else: a quiet desire to come home to my body. Not the idealized version of it. Not the controlled one. The real one. The one that shifts and bleeds and changes and asks for presence instead of perfection.

I didn’t follow that desire right away. Instead, I sat with it. Let it unfold. Let myself grieve what I knew would change if I said yes.

And when I finally did?

It wasn’t a radical act. It was a reclaiming.

Rest Before Rhythm

The gift of hormonal birth control was that it gave me rest.
I see that now.
For years, I wasn’t ready to trust my body. I had spent so much of my life feeling betrayed by it—from injuries to weight fluctuations to emotional unpredictability.

I didn’t get my IUD out just because I wanted to start a family someday.
I got it out because I realized I finally trusted my body to find its own rhythm.
Not perfectly. Not all at once. But enough.

The Awakening

After the removal, my body felt… awake. Not overstimulated, exactly—but alert. Like someone turning the lights on in a room that had been dimmed for years.

The hormones slowly left my system, and I felt bloated, moody, tender, exposed.
I felt like I was 14 again—waiting for my first period, unsure what products to use, navigating a new body with old fears.

But unlike 14-year-old me, I now had language. I had breath. I had compassion. And I had built a relationship with my body—one where I didn’t need to control it in order to respect it.

Reflection Questions from the Episode:

→ What is your body asking of you right now? (Are you listening?)
→ Where in your life are you mistaking control for care?
→ What would it look like to let yourself rest, fully and without guilt?

My Own Reflections

What is your body asking of you right now?
Right now, my body is asking for softness. For less caffeine. For slower mornings. For permission to be in process—not polished.

Where in your life are you mistaking control for care?
For a long time, I thought micromanaging my body—my food, my hormones, my appearance—was a form of care. I’m learning now that real care is rooted in trust, not surveillance.

What would it look like to let yourself rest, fully and without guilt?
It would look like unstructured afternoons. Unapologetic naps. Longer exhales. It would look like reminding myself that I don’t have to earn restoration. I can simply receive it.

Try This Prompt:

Next time you feel the urge to control something—pause.
Ask yourself: What would trusting this part of me look like instead?

Write down your answer. Sit with it. Let it teach you something new.