We Have Always Known. We Just Didn't Have the Words.
We Have Always Known.
We Just Didn't Have the Words.
If you asked 13-year-old Izsie if she PMSed, she would have told you no. Confidently. Maybe even scoffed at you. If you ask 32-year-old Izsie whether 13-year-old Izsie PMSed, she will tell you absolutely, and that she feels like she owes everyone an apology.
But how was she supposed to know? Nobody taught us the word luteal in any meaningful way. Nobody sat us down and explained that right after ovulation, our hormones plummet, leaving us in a vulnerable state that, for some of us, is extreme.
The mood swings, the fatigue, the aches, the need for more sleep, more calories, more grace. The internal rage that arrives right on schedule and leaves us wondering whether to honor it or push it down and keep moving. Nobody explained that our brains are literally rewired by each phase of the cycle, that during the luteal phase we process information differently: that what feels like falling apart is actually just biology doing exactly what it's supposed to do.
We were left to just feel it. Feel bad about feeling it. Pretend we weren't feeling it. And then get back to pushing through it.
That's the thing about being a cyclical being in a world that never named you. You don't get language. You get diagnoses and mere platitudes. "It's just your hormones." "You're fine, it's just period cramps." "Welcome to being a woman." You get vague instructions and then you are left to face it alone. Oh, and please don't talk about it; it's making everyone uncomfortable.
So like any good girl, you push through, you mask, you perform consistency you don't actually have, and somewhere along the way you start to believe the problem is you.
I believed that for a long time.
I started Pink Blazer Co. because I got tired of hustling like a man. Correction: I could no longer even pretend to hustle like a man. I had spent years wondering why I couldn't maintain the kind of daily consistency that hustle culture demanded, and when I realized the system was never built for me, that changed everything.
Our world is built on the 24-hour hormone cycle. But women are governed by an infradian rhythm spanning roughly a month, with different biological needs, energy, and strengths throughout each phase of the cycle.
This mismatch is not a personal failing. It's a design flaw in the system.
Now I'm on a mission to interview 100 cyclical beings in 90 days.
To do what writers have always done: bear witness. To sit across from women and ask the questions nobody asks. To hear the stories we have silenced for generations. And to understand our suffering deeply enough to build something real from it; systems, tools, and resources that help us work with our cycles instead of against them.
The conversations are liberating.
Goddess recognizing Goddess. Two people sitting together in a topic that has lived in the shadows, not because it isn't universal, but because we were never given permission to bring it into the light. And then suddenly, we are. And the room changes.
That's what language does. It doesn't create the experience; the experience was always there. It just finally gives you permission to feel it, recognize it, and honor it.
If you are a cyclical being, I know you have a story. And as a writer, I'm willing to bet it's rich, because you have spent years trying to make sense of your own rhythms on the page and off of it. I want to hear your story.
This campaign is research, yes. But it's also communion: a space for us to connect and witness each other.
We are no longer suffering alone in silence.
