Why My Cycle Gets Longer Every Summer (and what that says about my nervous system)

It happens every summer. My cycle stretches out. Sometimes a few days. Sometimes over a week. And every year, I understand a little more why.

It’s not because I go on holiday (I don’t). Not because I lose my rhythm. If anything, my rhythm is painfully rigid. Forced by the chaos outside. By the routines inside. By what other people do and decide, every single day. It’s not a rhythm I chose. It’s a rhythm I endure.

No, it’s because my body experiences summer as something it can’t handle. More light, less air

In summer, everything gets louder. The light burns through windows. The noise never stops.
Scents hang in the air: sweat, detergent, barbecues, traffic.

And for someone who barely sets foot outside anymore because the world overstimulates, summer doesn’t feel like freedom. It feels like threat.

And my body sees that too. Not with thoughts, but with signals.
It says:
“Now is not the time to be fertile. First, you need to be safe.”

No rest. No way out.

Since coming back after our vehicle’s breakdown, I’ve barely been outside. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.

Our street has turned into a construction zone.
Literally.
Workmen and machines stand right next to mum’s garden, all day, every day. They pass through the narrow path beside our home. They talk loudly. They drop things. They drill, saw, shout.

And we? We stand behind a half-open door, waiting for it to stop.
But it doesn’t.

There’s no space to move. No air to settle. No way out.

My body knows. My body isn’t messing up. It’s doing exactly what it should: It slows down, because I’m surviving.
It whispers: “Not now. Wait. There’s no space yet for life to grow.”

This is not a failure. It’s protection.

And as long as the world keeps closing in, my body will keep pressing pause.

And still…

Still, I know my body isn’t against me. It’s on my side. It’s doing this for me.

And if, one day, things become safe again, truly safe, I know it’ll start moving again.