My Period Told Me I Had a Parasite

Lately, the phrase I find myself saying most is that "the period is more than a reproductive process; it’s an indicator of overall health". Little did I know, I was about to live that truth in real-time.

In June 2025, I was working on the river, connecting people with the stillness of sagebrush, the elegance of the great blue heron, and the hidden, draining beauty of the Russian Olive Bush. As we floated downstream, my guests began to see the delicate balance of a river ecosystem, how all things work together to create an environment where water, fish, birds, and flora thrive in harmony.

But on the riverbank, we were seeing an ecosystem out of balance. The Russian olive had become parasitic, hoarding nutrients and drinking more water than traditional desert plants, contributing to a localized drought. The river balance was in trouble, and the Russian olive was contributing.

Little did I know that while I was teaching about the resilience of the river and the fragile cost of its imbalance, my own internal ecosystem was perfectly mirroring the struggle on the banks. I did not notice until my ecosystem had started to shrivel.

I had draining headaches, increasing fatigue, and a gnawing, shaky hunger. But the telltale sign was in the waning strength of my ovulation.

My Basal body temperature began to fall into the low 96 degrees F range, a sign that the body was struggling to maintain balance.

My monthly temperature shifts, which usually signal a healthy ovulation, became diluted and obscure, almost invisible. In charting, a clear rise in temperature is proof that the body has the energy to ovulate. Mine was flatlining. It was a sign that my body was struggling to keep the reproductive system online.

Something was off, and I couldnt unsee it. The data was there; my menstrual cycle was indicating my internal ecosystem was in a state of alarm.

When an ecosystem is in a state of alarm, we have 2 options: to ignore it or to become stewards, advocating and caring for its health. I took my low temperatures, gnawing hunger, and bouts of intense dizziness to my doctor.

That is when we identified my russian olive..... A parasitic protozoan and a chronic gut infection.

It all made sense!

• The Gnawing Hunger: The combination of a parasite and chronic gut infection put my body in a state of constant defense, trying to fight off these invaders. This is energetically expensive. I was using a massive amount of energy to ward off these invaders, but I wasn't able to replenish my stores due to my compromised digestion, leaving me hungry and shaking.

• Low Temperatures: When basal temperatures run low, the thyroid is the first place to look, for it is the body’s metabolic furnace. But like the menstrual cycle, the thyroid is a product of its environment and not always the root cause. The Thyroid produces T4, which must be converted into active T3 to be used by the body. These hormones are like the wood to the furnace. This critical conversion happens largely in the gut. In my case, systemic inflammation from a chronic infection and a compromised gut stalled that conversion. My struggling thyroid was just the messenger; the low temperatures were the result of an ecosystem too taxed to support its own heat.

• Decreasing Health Of My Ovulation: I observed my ovulation health declining as my body became increasingly taxed. Ovulation is very sensitive to the environment around it, whether that is due to a lack of vitamins and minerals from gut dysfunction or the exhaustion of fighting a chronic infection every day. In this state, the reproductive system becomes "less essential," and the body prioritizes energy, brain signaling for more urgent needs. This resulted in my hormonal signals becoming dampened and my ovulation becoming weaker.

Ecosystems are intrinsically entwined; when you support one area, it benefits the whole. It causes a ripple effect on systemic health. I am still in the thick of my restoration, eradicating the Russian olive and planting the commensal flora. It takes constant evaluation of what is working and what isn’t.

Just as a river steward looks downstream to see how a restoration is affecting the river ecosystem. I am looking at my own biological "downstream." I am not using water quality or habitat to gauge my health; I am using the parameters of my cycle and my menstrual charting practice. I am using the data from my menstrual cycle to gauge how the systems "upstream", like my gut health, thyroid function, inflammation, and stress response, are functioning.

This is why the cycle is more than a reproductive process. It is a continuous feedback loop: the body’s health dictates the quality of the cycle, and the cycle, in turn, influences the vitality of the entire body.

This is why I believe learning to read the cycle and understanding its influence on the rest of the body is an essential act of stewardship—not just for the health of menstruating bodies, but for a more inclusive and supportive world.

If you’re interested in learning more about how to read the cycle, you can find a breakdown of optimal (not just normal) period parameters here. ⇩