Ever have one of those weeks where the sky is falling, you’re a horrid nasty person and you just want to move to Australia?
Sweet fuck I’m having one of those weeks.
The problem with me is, specifically, is that when PMS comes, in it’s glory, sometimes I turn into a person not so much myself. It might be for a few hours one month, a day another, or like this past week, nearly an entire week.
I can feel the difference. I go from rational, relatively normal to the person that was. The bipolar freak full of rage and sadness who is filled with more loneliness than makes sense. A person who can push away every single person in her life without even really trying.
I hate this. I hate this reminder of who I’ve been. I hate it’s intrusion into my home, the havoc it creates, the fear it instills in me as I worry that one day, my pushing will work too well and I’ll find myself alone. I hate waking and wondering what I’ve done, and how to fix it.
I’m awfully tired of having to apologize.
I don’t know how to stop it. Any pdoc I’ve talked to shrugs, tells me they’ve never seen any research on PMS/Menstrual Cycles and Bipolar Women. Tells me they don’t want me on SSRI’s just for a few days a month-and I agree. But they have nothing to offer.
I change to someone else on these days. Another woman, a monster. Ask the people who live around me, who are burnt to crisps by living with a cypher. Ask them how tired they are-it’s worse for them because they can’t separate the people, the me from the total shift in my brain. I try and control it, and if it’s only a day, I can, but for days on end, I can’t escape the whispering in my head, the slightly shadowed view of the world that infects me.
I’ve started living without all this-without the fear, without unhappiness, almost normal. And one week-one week returns me to who I’ve been and I’m helpless and filled with worry. Worry that I’m still destroying a life, one full of people who just can’t take it anymore.