I don’t know about the rest of you and by ‘the rest of you’ I mean the portion of my readers who bleed once a month in a way that is not alarming except, you know, you don’t want to. I mean, none of us really want to bleed once a month but you know what I mean.
Sometimes – and now with my regular drug regime even rarer than sometimes – my post period mood issues are far greater an issue than those preceding.
Today is a case in point.
I am at my lowest ebb for some time. Weepy with a smattering of fierce anger and associated vitriol. Overwhelmed and full or resentment.
As I type Jasper and Grover are having a fierce battle full of screaming and tears over a packet of cheap-arse bendy straws I had bought some time back and have just binned because all of them are split where the bendy bit is.
Oscar has just stormed off because I refuse to let him play xbox.
And on it goes.
I am in one of those mindsets where I detest our life. Our perfectly good and reasonable life. A life with minimal concerns and food on the table. When you compare it to others.
I am wishing I was
single childless. In New York, or London, or anywhere in Italy. With a wardrobe full of wonderful this-season wear and shoes for every possible event and then some more for the imagined. With AB swanning to the theatre or something else you can attend on a whim.
I am wishing I did not have to count every single dollar I spend. I am wishing my paining feet and ankles would go away. I am wishing my worries for Oscar would abate. I am wishing wishing wishing…
I know it is because I am tired. I know it is because of the year that this year has been. I know it is because my period just finished and I was very tardy with my fish oil and evening primrose oil and vitamin b supplements. I know. I KNOW.
I know this too shall pass.
I know I am blessed. I’m just having a wallow. Just a bad day.
It’ll be fine. No really. It will.