It’s been a long time since I felt this low. But such is the nature of the beast known as pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder. I can go along fine for six months, and then for no apparent reason start sliding down into that moody hole again. I cope with it a lot better than I used to.
I used to try to repress those feelings — that “I just dropped my keys and it makes me want to cry” sensation. And just like most contents under pressure, it would eventually erupt into a violent, volcanic spew of uncontrollable sobbing and an inability to accomplish anything at all. I’d go through a good patch and think I had this PMDD thing licked, so I always felt blind-sided when it began its molten rumblings again.
Now, no matter how long it’s been, I’m not surprised when it shows back up — dismayed, yes, but not shocked. I give myself some space to do the things that help a little — journal, meditate, drink ginger tea and cry some. If I do that, let it out a little when I feel it coming on, I can avoid the big eruption that sprays fallout all over my family (mostly Jason).
This is where I am this morning — trying to take care of myself. The hard part is this: there are people who expect things from me today. There are deadlines and things I promised I’d do, and I hate disappointing people. I hate rescheduling things and asking for extensions. And the emotional state I’m in right now makes it even harder to do so because it requires a grand effort to talk to anyone coherently.
I’d like to have a sign:
Temporarily out of order. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Or maybe a more modern,
Website down for maintenance. Please try again later.
If you’re reading this, and you’re my friend, just know, if I don’t text you back today, please excuse me. It’s not you, it’s me…honestly.