I have been bleeding for three weeks. Yep, you read that right. I’m not dying, but I am navigating the vagaries of stopping the contraceptive pill and then swiftly starting it again.
I was first put on desogestrel, AKA the mini-pill, more than a decade ago, during my first long-term relationship. In the years since, I thought I had become a bit of an expert about it. I knew, for example, that it mostly stopped my periods, unless I forgot to take it a couple of times or didn’t take it at the same time every day. I knew it could be helpful for those suffering endometriosis and was suitable for people with high blood pressure. I knew that it came under lots of different brand names in lots of different packaging, and that for some reason the “name brands”, such as Cerazette, seemed to suit my body better than “generic” pills, even though doctors say they are no different.
What I hadn’t had much experience of were the well-documented and seriously uncomfortable side-effects, such as lowered libido, anxiety, acne and sore breasts. I was quite smug living my mostly period-free life, swanning along without fear of pregnancy. But then, suddenly, a few months ago, I realised something was not right. I had been taking the pill just as I should – every day, at the same time – but now my boobs were sore for weeks on end. I was having regular periods again with awful premenstrual syndrome. I was feeling more anxious than normal and couldn’t connect it to anything in particular happening in my life. It was incredibly irritating.
So I decided to take a break from the mini-pill to see if anything improved. Maybe, I hoped, this would be the key to my happiness. Maybe my anxiety had simply been caused by a rotten combination of hormones. Maybe my periods would return as nice, regular, pain-free monthly celebrations. Instead, going off the pill was a sharp reminder that periods absolutely suck (and, let’s be honest, condoms are annoying as well). I was perhaps a touch less anxious, but that’s it.
There is still such shame associated with contraception – the societal equivalent of stuffing a tampon up your sleeve before going to the toilet (it’s notable that you never really see women taking the pill in public) – and such dismissal associated with hormonal symptoms, that myths prevail. I have known people who work in healthcare to have less knowledge of contraception than I do (once, when going to get the morning-after pill, I had to remind the awkward healthcare worker that, due to my BMI, I couldn’t take the contraception he offered).
One such myth, as I discovered after extensive online research, is that giving your body a “break” from the hormones is good for you. If anything, it appears that it’s marginally better not to take breaks: sticking with a form of hormonal contraception long term can be an easier option, as side-effects are often worse at the beginning.
Last year, it was reported that there had been a large uptick in unplanned pregnancies due to poor access to contraception. The welcome response to that has been the pill being made accessible via high street pharmacies in England instead of via your GP. Just last week, there was a call from a British healthcare body to put the morning-after pill on general sale.
However, there is still a massive lack of research into this whole area. I would be surprised if many healthcare workers in the underfunded NHS have a deep and comprehensive knowledge of all the ways the pill can benefit you and screw you up, and which types of pills might suit which types of people. For everyone, it seems to be a personal experiment with a cocktail of hormones, a shot in the dark.
I am back on desogestrel, as the alternative didn’t look any brighter and it has served me well for a long time. But I’m not particularly happy about it.
• Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff is a freelance journalist
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