I would like to interrupt my regularly scheduled report on the discrimination my friend and I experienced for important news that affects everyone: I have PMS. And it’s a bad one this time. It cycles- every few months, it switches off between physical and psychological, and after a few months reprieve I’m overdue for my trip to crazy-town. Also, there’s a movement to demystify menses right now.
Right now, I should be getting back on the job search horse, but all my energies are devoted to not sitting in a corner, methodically opening and closing a switchblade. I went on a rescheduled job interview for a sales associate position today after being cancelled on once (after waiting more than an hour), and in the interview the manager told me the position was 4 to 8 hours a week. I consider it a triumph of self-control that I didn’t flip the desk and her stupid Starbucks drink onto her. However, it’s not just genuine aggravations that are bothering me right now. Here’s a sample of my thought process today while doing laundry: Where the %$&# is my &*%^ing Downy cap?! B&%#! better have my fabric softener measuring cup. It’s a good thing my menstrual rage burns itself out into naps.
Not that I’m all mean, mind you. I asked my sister if we could talk seriously for a moment, then I told her I really appreciated her bringing home BBQ from work as movingly as if she’d just promised to give me a kidney. Cured meats are close to my heart right now. I just had a heart to heart with my sister about brisket, and based on her laughing reaction, I went a little overboard. Then I almost cried ‘cuz she laughed at me.
All my fluids are escaping out of my eyes right now. PMS coincided with James Horner’s untimely death, so I’ve been listening to his themes on YouTube and sobbing uncontrollably. (Not Titanic, I have PMS, I’m not a frickin’ masochist. Also, not to be simplistic about race relations, but I think that diptard Dylann Roof and his ilk should be strapped to a chair and forced to listen to the “Glory” end theme on repeat until insanity descends. It’s not that I think something like that can actually battle racism or impart insight, it’s just that all my revenge fantasies involve film scores for some reason.) I used to listen to the Legends of the Fall soundtrack on cassette when it first came out and I was 11 or 12. I even carried the cassette with me everywhere, including school, that’s how cool I was.
PMS messes with your brain in other ways. Insane, terrifying ways. It’s not just the “Oh God, please don’t let me be pregnant, I’m 32, I’m too young to be a parent” fear even though you haven’t had sexual contact since before public opinion turned against Justin Bieber. Pre-menses likes to make you doubt your sanity in other ways- the hormonal brain actually Gaslights you into believing crazy things. During one difficult bout of PMS, I became convinced that I was mistaken about where testicles were situated on a penis, or that things had somehow changed and I was out of the loop. I had to look in a textbook to make sure (because everyone borrows my laptop, so I’m afraid of leaving penis-related things on there). Of course, I wasn’t, since the design is pretty basic and straightforward, and they hadn’t moved, but the “What if I just forgot and didn’t know it” fear is real.
Well, that covers all the bases: anger, sadness, emphasized emotion, self-sabotage, hunger, bargaining and acceptance. Glad to add my pearls to the discussion.