A few thoughts from the (pre?) menstrual woman

Look, Im just gonna put it out there. I dont know why “they” call it PRE menstrual syndrome/tension/strain/whatever, when it can last anywhere from 5 days to 2 weeks of the month, which includes most of the time I am menstruating.

For two weeks out of every month (that’s basically HALF MY LIFE, PEOPLE!) I am an anxious, blubbery, angry, spotty whale who is convinced noone will ever love her, and whose career will soon be in the toilet once her employer realises that the swollen eyed whale is actually shit at her job and completely incompetent.

…and while you’re at it- throw some insomnia into the mix.

Oh yeah, its not enough that the hormones make me stark raving mad, but it also seems to deprive me of the ability to go to sleep and block out this horrible world for a few hours reprieve, which only serves to make me more tired, more emotional and even less capable of falling to sleep.

All whilst my iron rich life blood flows from my loins leaving me on the anaemic side of the preferred blood iron level half the time as well.

Jeezzus- did I really just write “loins”?? FFS

So you can imagine what kind of state I was in yesterday when at exactly 1:03pm right when I was in the middle of preparing a report for the board, which our director usually does but I was doing because his wife was at that moment in labour, I received a message from Tall Irish – the guy I had been dating for a month or so and who I was really into and thought he felt the same. Well, apparently not- as he had decided to cancel our date for Friday because he just wasnt feeling “the thing”.

GREAT.

…and well, don’t we all just love to be informed of these things when we are AT WORK.

When I first saw the message, I just had to block it out- I was in the middle of something and I was stressed and I couldn’t waste another moment thinking about anything but my deadline.

However, slowly but surely, as the afternoon creeped on, the emotions creeped UP, and before too long I was mapping out pie charts like a pro, with streaks of tears rolling down my face.

At my desk.

In an open-plan office.

I finished my report (along with my first box of tissues) and skulked home where I soon after found myself showered, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, ramrod straight with the covers pulled up to my chin, unable to cry, unable to sleep and with a searing ball of frustration and anger churning in my gut.

I tried logic. Logically we had only been on a handful of dates. Logically, I liked him and I could have seen it going somewhere but I mean, right now, I barely knew the guy. Logically this really shouldn’t be upsetting me this much.

But that’s the thing isn’t it? Logic is irrelevant when you have a potent mixture of hormones flying around in your brain at warp speed.

Don’t tell me to be logical. I’m not an idiot. I am a perfectly rational, irrational person, and I know what’s logical and what’s not.

What YOU cant possibly understand is, what I’m going through right now! And I’m telling you- logic has nothing to do with it!!!

And so it was that I tossed and turned and cried until 4am when I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be hurled back into wakefulness by the 4:40am alarm that I forgot to reset (MOTHER*beeeeeeep*!!!!)

Consequently, with an air of determination at 4:55am I sent a text message to my trainer and booked a second PT session today. Two workouts in one day is surely guaranteed to send me into blissful oblivion come 8:30pm tonight?

Let’s hope so, or the otherwise lovely colleague with the inexplicable need to whistle and click his pen incessantly ALL DAY LONG is far more likely than me, to be going home in tears tomorrow.

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