I felt off for a week or so and my PMS made me want to break up every relationship I have, including my fiancée and possibly myself right after. Today PMS has peaked and I am at the end of my PMS cycle and again left with shock. How crazy it is your own body can do this to you — why isn’t everybody talking about this all the time?! and thankfulness to just have trouble with PMS only every other few months so I can forget it again — leaving me to confusion the next time another PMS comes by. Oh, so easy it is to forget.
Only some people can understand how it is to be in this cycle that is vicious and well, technically discriminating as it only affects uterus-bearers (Approx. 80% of us). But I will try to explain. Mainly because this day won’t take off in another fashion, I know, I have tried and failed to do so many other things so this is the last resort for feeling productive, and baby do I cling on. But also because I need to paint it out to me again, because just like when this happened a few months ago, I just got very very MINDFUCK’D.
At first you can’t really orientate what is wrong. Maybe it’s the weather that makes you gloomy. Maybe it’s seasonal depression but three months delayed. You’re irritated but it’s impossible to point out the object for your anger, that has started rising and decreasing by itself now. You think to yourself: I can’t just say it’s PMs because I, who identify as a woman, am feeling hard feelings that will make others uncomfortable. That’s usually the road I go down at least. It’s like irritation lies in my skin. Sometimes I think it’s just my skin and a lil cycle of self-hate begins. Or I say, it’s something in the air, or maybe everyone around me are idiots, I’m in a world and household full of idiots, noone understands me or has the interest in even trying.
The road for me usually ends with: I’m probably depressed, it’s not that people around me are like this and that or even that they don’t care about me. It’s just depression. It’s a bit of a relief but it’s also a sad thought. Usually the same day my second insight falls in: it’s PMS.
With the second and last insight follows another relief ofcourse; I don’t have to break every relationship I have anymore!- and usually a sense of disorientation again. I was feeling this so strongly, for so many days, and now it was just a “womanly” deviation? These days didn’t count at all? Nothing will come from this? Not unlike the elephants who can feel a hurricane coming hours before the event, I trusted my gut and took everything and ran. I made plan B’s and C’s, I cried, I wrote sad poems. But in the end, what had happened was actually just hormones falling and rising like waves inside me. I was deceived.
I just stepped off the road, went from: I’m probably depressed and lonely because I’m studying from distance and it’s covid and I haven’t wanted to be with any friends for a while, to Ohhh, right. I’m actually feeling a bit of feminist anger that can’t be helped, too. Because I just wasted so many days feeling like s*hit and not knowing why. I’m _so_ tired and this day is for real. It wasn’t just a day that dissapeared into the void of my womanhood filled with other irrelevant days because I acted on hormones, I was in fact affected by them, I was having a real day (week). A week that will be gone and forgotten about, but still, a real, depressing, really hard week, just because of my uterus (and/or birth control, that again, I have to take, because I was the one born with a uterus).
Edit: A forgotten passage in the pms- discovery process: Maybe I’m pregnant, yes I’m probably pregnant.
TL;dr And/ Or Conclusion: Socially accepted behaviours should include people with raging PMS, future is intersectional, reality is intersectional (and hard to trust when pms- ing and told your feelings are not *real*), make birth control for penis bearers!
f.ero
