Special Torture (or how to grin and bear it)

Holy fuck, Premenstrual syndrome.

August 17, 2012 / by admin

Day 25 of my cycle and it’s a doozie. I am glad I don’t have raw, emotional PMS every month, but somehow that irregularity makes it even harder to figure out what the fuck is going wrong with me every time I spend half a day bursting into tears every 15 minutes. It’s a really good thing I do not work in an office. I do not know how you ladies do it.

My frustration this week has largely been focused how I need a break. I am really tired. Of my job. Of trying to get pregnant. Of being in pain. Of being flat broke. And of just about everything else I can think of. I am tired of being tired. It all boils down to 4 simple words – I need a vacation. But in classic I-will-never-be-satisfied fashion, simply taking time off work (a stay-cation if you will)  just does not seem like enough. I want to get AWAY. Away-away. I want to sit on a beach for a week. And not just any beach. I need some god damn space. I want it to be me, the people I am with (if any), the place I sleep and eat (house? tent? whatever) and nature.  I want to escape!

I’ve been watching people’s FaceBook posts of their summer vacations and it’s been getting harder and harder to keep my cool. I’ve moved from genuine excitement for folks good fortune to uncomfortable jealousy to heartsick self pity. Today with my PMS induced depression has been the worst of it. I’ve actually found myself feeling persecuted, which is just stupid. Nobody is keeping me from taking time off and going on my dream vacation. No. No one is, but it still does feel pretty unattainable.

Of course, it’a all about money. I don’t have any. I’d have to put any trip I take on a credit card and I really don’t want to do that. I can’t do that. I still owe the hospital money. I owe my therapist money. I already have (albeit small, thank god) credit card debit. There really is no get-away in my future. And I guess that’s why I am all bent out of shape today. I want/need something I really have no way of responsibly providing myself. I hate that, but it’s the story of my life these days.

And I hate being so whiny, but I guess that’s mostly what this blog is about – complaining about how hard everything is. I guess I need to think about if this is really something that helps or hurts or just makes me seem foolish and weak.

OK now. THIS is the PMS talking.  Signing off now. I think I am just gonna drink myself silly.


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