Anyone else get CRAZY before their periods?
Some people mark their calendars with a little red dot.
Some people know because their birth control pills turn a different color.
Others? ‘They’ know, because ‘their’ mood totally changes and ‘they’ become a crazy psycho bitch who should be locked in a padded room.
All control of emotions go out the window.
(Okay, the “they” is me, guys. It’s me. I’m the crazy one. I’m psycho. You guessed it)
Of course, because I’m sure everyone is curious, here are some insanely transparent, totally embarrassing examples I’d like to share with you (of which I recognized DIRECTLY after the fact just how bat-shit crazy I actually can be – and actually am, actually … once a month. Progressively. For a week):
Day -5, aka, The Beginning.
Yelling at my child for being a child, telling him how much I don’t have time for his shenanigans (which included, but was not limited to, refusing to put his feet on the floor so I could pull his pants down and put him on the potty). Truthfully, it was like 6:00 PM and all we had was time.
Yelling at my dogs because they refused to sit down, throwing them in their crates because when I told them to get out of the kitchen they just looked at me and then somehow ended up even further into the kitchen (and then, when I yelled “GET THE F*CK OUT OF THE KITCHEN,” like any normal woman with full self-control would do, they left – for all of two seconds).
Telling my OBGYN that my kid was the “obvious black one” in a photograph, which is neither politically (or parentally) correct, relevant, or true. Then, cursing myself the entire drive home for saying something so stupid and wondering where it even came from – who cares what color his skin is, and why the eff would I identify my child like that in the first place?
Obsessively thinking someone has blocked me on Facebook, even though there were zero reasons I deserved a block. Then, getting my BFF involved. THEN insisting the only reason she couldn’t find this person on Facebook, either, is because the person obviously not only blocked me, but also blocked all my friends so we couldn’t find said-person.
Getting cramps that hurt so bad I felt like I was having contractions… while trying to read my child a bedtime story.
That was fun.
Tattle-tailing on someone for being mean about an organization in one of my retailer Facebook pages, just to be told by an administrator of the page that it wasn’t that bad. Apparently, the mean thread was actually useful information, and the organization they were bashing really is awful.
Feeling embarrassed about tattle-tailing, shaming myself (again), this time for being overly dramatic about a situation that I wasn’t even apart of and honestly not affected by whatsoever.
Texting a client and not immediately getting a text back, reeling my brain about what I did wrong, getting mad at myself for not leaving people alone, convincing myself she’ll cancel by the end of the week because I’m so obnoxiously annoying.
(Am I an awkward middle school pre-pubescent girl with a crush, or…?)
(…Nope. Just business woman with a client… that’s all, folks)
(Did I say bat-shit crazy?)
Anxiety overrides every rational emotion I normally feel. Boss man asks me to do a simple task, and he becomes the most difficult person to work for IN THE HISTORY OF JOBS. I give myself every reason to quit, tell myself (and maybe another person) I don’t get paid enough for what I have to deal with, and then bitch some more about disorganization and “if I ran this place,” and “If he’d just do this instead of this…” in my head, on the drive to/from everywhere I go the rest of the day.
Walking into preschool to pick up my nugget, and more anxiety. Why? No fucking reason. I can’t even make up an excuse this time. I can’t complain about his teachers, or how uncomfortable the administration makes me feel, or how I pay too much for this place, because the school is awesome and I’m picking up the coolest person ever. But there it is, knotting up my chest, making me want to sit in the middle of the playground with a bottle of wine, kids running around me, possibly picking a fight with one of the homeless people walking by…
… and then coming home, scrolling IG, finding myself holding back tears after reading that someone I don’t even know is in the middle of a divorce.
… all because my hormones have taken total control, as my ego sits in the passenger seat, and a self-loathing / partially racist monster squeezes me in the back of a TINY FLIPPING CAR.
And so I sit, all uncomfortable-like, and hope I survive the ride.
Until next time,