Wicked PMS

What a fucking shitty week.

I'm so churned up about it that I'm awake before 9am on a Saturday because I have this post sort of swirling around in my head that needs to be written while I've got some motivation to write it.

While I have a million things to be thankful for....my car runs, I have a job, my mother is NOT in the hospital and is taking care of herself and taking it seriously that she needs to really lose weight...this week just has been especially rough and it makes me wonder if I should continue taking "the pill".

I started it a few months ago to finally get my cycle regular. I had had enough of irregularity. But it seems like every month since I started taking it, the week prior finds me experiencing some wicked (and I don't mean in a cool, awesome way) PMS. My emotions are so volatile and I don't like feeling this out of control.

This past week had plans falling through with a friend (I'm like Charlie Brown really believing that Lucy won't take the football away), damaging R's garage when leaving for a PT appointment (that it turns out I was late for) and then not getting on the flight to San Diego that I was aiming for last night, Friday.

I really really wanted to get out of town and visit S but maybe it's for the best since I'm all over the map emotionally.

But with each incident, I reacted so strongly that I'm a little worried about myself. Not just feeling disappointed and pissed off about not seeing my friend but so...irrationally (?) angry and that I would literally explode from all of that anger. Not just feeling bad about damaging the garage (which thankfully R has been cool about because I don't know what I would have done, would do if he hadn't been cool about it) but like I shouldn't be anywhere near garages or buildings of any kind or even be driving and then with not getting on the flight, not just accepting that that is part of the deal with "non-rev'ing" but when realizing that I didn't get on the flight, almost bawling like a baby and feeling like I wanted to drown my sorrows in gallons and gallons of alcohol.

I still feel like I just want to scream and explode from the internal pressures of keeping MOST of my temper and these emotions in check.

Oh sure, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic (this is me after all) BUT this is how this all feels. BIG and real and feeling like there are so many things that are wrong with me because of the choices I've made and the things I've done.

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And then there's the upcoming move. Which is still a long three weeks away. I'm beyond excited to live in an environment that has a view of the outside world, central air & heat that I control, a bathroom with a door (though who am I kidding, when I live on my own and am home alone I leave the door open)...and is warm when I get out of the shower ...and has a real sink.

But worrying about the money of the move and how I'm going to pay the car insurance this month -because I need the car really just for one more damn month until I move -and making it all work is fucking stressing me out.


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ALL of that stuff that I normally would just deal with in a calm, rational way. Plans fall through, the damage to the garage could have been much worse and my landlord didn't freak the fuck out about it (then again, I should have known he was a cool cat when right after I moved in something fell down the lint chute on the dryer and he calmly just figured it out and took care of it ...)

(Side note: how lucky am I that the men in my life -that arent' my Pop -have been such calm men who are rarely angry & don't have tempers -well not that they've shown me anyway. Growing up with Pop and his quick-triggered temper I'm sure has scarred me for life in some way. Thank god he's mellowed a bit over the years and I love him dearly in spite of that temper....oh wait, that last bit might be something for it's own post someday...)

Not getting on the flight, knowing that it is a risk to non-rev and just accepting it for what it was.

All things that I don't think I would have reacted so strongly to. Because reality is that shit happens right? Just part of the joys of living.

The pill. One tiny little pill.

Can I go back to irregularity and having mild PMS for what seems like weeks at a time or stay on it and just know that I'm truly going to have a fucking horrible week once a month.

*Sigh*