For years, I knew something was wrong with my body—even when no one else believed me. I knew it before the doctors did. Before I had a name for it. Before I understood what it meant to live in constant pain that wasn’t visible, explainable, or taken seriously.

The name, eventually, was endometriosis.

But what that diagnosis didn’t tell me is just how deeply this condition would impact my life—not just physically, but emotionally, socially, and even academically.

So let me tell you what endometriosis really is—beyond the textbook definition. Let me tell you what it feels like.

What Endometriosis Is—And What It Isn’t

Endometriosis is a chronic condition where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus grows outside of it—on organs like the ovaries, bladder, and even the bowel. Each month, this tissue acts like it’s supposed to: it builds up, breaks down, and bleeds. But since it's in the wrong place, the blood has nowhere to go. That causes inflammation, internal scarring, and pain that can range from exhausting to completely incapacitating.

But here’s what it isn’t: it isn’t just “bad cramps.” It isn’t just “PMS.” And it isn’t something that only affects you during your period.

For me, the pain is relentless. It can flare up at any point in the month—when I’m sitting in class, trying to fall asleep, playing in the band, or walking through the halls at school. Some days, I physically can’t get out of bed. Other days, I force myself to push through the pain and pretend I’m fine—because trying to explain what’s happening inside my body feels harder than the pain itself.

When No One Gets It

That’s the hardest part. The invisibility of it all.

I’ve missed tests, rehearsals, birthday parties, and countless moments that matter to me. And every time I do, I feel like I’m letting people down. I feel like I’m falling behind. But even worse—I feel misunderstood.

I’ve been teased for “PMSing” when I can barely keep my body upright. I’ve had teachers question my commitment to school. I’ve had friends get frustrated when I cancel plans again, or worse—stop inviting me altogether. And I get it. It’s hard to understand something you can’t see. But it’s also the most isolating experience I’ve ever had.

There’s a quiet kind of shame that comes with a condition like this. You start to believe you’re too much—or not enough. Too dramatic. Too fragile. Too complicated. You stop talking about it. You stop asking for help. You just try to disappear into the background.

How I Found My Voice

At some point, I got tired of feeling helpless. So I started researching—reading medical journals, Reddit threads, and blogs from other girls who sounded like me. I tracked my symptoms, my cycles, my pain patterns. I brought that information to doctors. I advocated for myself until someone finally listened.

And even though I have a diagnosis now, I’m still figuring things out. Every day with endometriosis feels like a negotiation between what I want to do and what my body can handle. It’s frustrating. It’s exhausting. And some days, it’s devastating.

But it’s also taught me a lot—about resilience, self-trust, and what it means to truly listen to your body.

Why I’m Writing This

I’m not writing this because I want pity. I’m writing this because I know how many other girls are quietly suffering and don’t have the words—or the courage—to speak up.

If that’s you, I want you to know this:

You are not weak. You are not being dramatic. You are not making it up. And you are most definitely not alone.

Endometriosis is real. It is painful. It is misunderstood. But that doesn’t mean you have to feel invisible.

At Vida Lab, I’m creating the space I wish I had when I was first trying to figure all this out—a place where we can talk about what’s actually going on with our bodies without shame or silence. A place where we can be smart, strong, and still soft. A place where our stories matter.

Because they do.

— Rowan