Eight full moons ago, I struggled to peel myself off the bed, feeling as if an invisible weight held me down. It took me a few moments to realise that it was that time of the month. Dragging my heavy limbs across the bedroom floor and laboriously descending the stairs, I tried to compose myself as I prepared a cup of coffee. Exercising was out of the question; my body felt like it was moving through molasses. So, I took my time sipping the bitter coffee and decided to get ready for work as soon as possible.

My mind felt clouded, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in slow motion. Dressing myself took an eternity, as every movement felt like a Herculean task. Eventually, I settled on a pair of baggy pants and a comfy loose blouse – my usual outfit on days like this.

When I settled behind the computer in my classroom, I closed my eyes, trying to identify the overwhelming emotions engulfing me. Panic surged through me, and my heart raced with anxiety. A deep sadness gnawed at my soul, urging me to find someone or something to blame. I tried to clear my head, but a thick fog clouded my vision and thoughts. Somewhere in the depths of my consciousness, I knew this wasn’t me. The demon had returned.

The demon’s grip was strong, and no matter how hard I tried to resist, it seemed to wrap itself around me, whispering lies that provoked false thoughts. I felt powerless as panic tightened its grip around my neck, and I fell completely under the demon’s control. It taunted me, showing me painful memories from my past, and my heart couldn’t stop the onslaught of emotions they brought. Tears streamed down my face as I was locked inside my own mind, forced to relive those horrible moments repeatedly.

As my first class approached, the demon had succeeded in transforming me into a creature I didn’t recognise – full of anger and resentment. I lashed out with cruelty and venomous words, unaware of the frightening monster I had become. The demon reveled in my misery, feeding on my pain and causing harm to those around me.

The guilt and shame followed swiftly after the demon’s departure, leaving me drained and broken. I feared facing people, afraid of what damage I might cause next time. The demon’s cycle repeated, and I felt trapped in an endless loop of suffering.

But I refused to give in. I began researching and seeking ways to tame the demon’s hold on me. Natural remedies like valerian and ashwagandha root teas offered some relief, and I cautiously tried antihistamines, hoping they would help. I embraced strong adaptogens and herbal teas, desperate to break free from the demon’s grasp.

Through this journey, I took comfort in the power of art and writing. Soothing music and the act of creation became my sanctuary, drowning out the demon’s whispers and providing moments of clarity. I slowly regained control of my thoughts and emotions, seeing through the fog that had once consumed me.

The demon still returned, but with each passing month, its grip weakened. I held on to the belief that the moon’s cycles served a purpose in my life, guiding me through the darkness. I prayed for strength and clarity, knowing that my resilience would lead me to victory over the demon that sought to possess my soul.

Even in the darkest moments, I knew that the light of perseverance and self-compassion could guide me to liberation from the shadows that threatened to consume me.