Thursday, May 19, 2011

Me & My Hamster Wheel

Every woman (well practically every woman) gets PMS.  This sucks.  I was about two periods into this sucky game when I asked my grandma why periods can't be like pee.  You feel like you have to go, and you head to the bathroom, go and poof! Done. She rolled her eyes at me and told me not to say things that made me sound like I was full of shit.  

The thing is, I think most women would totally be on board with that concept.  I mean, we spend most of our childbearing years trying to figure out ways to make them bearable.  There are birth control pills designed to eliminate the period, shorten their length, to lessen the effect of PMS, to reign in the wild beast within.  There are products on the market to squelch the flow (so to speak) that breaks loose on a somewhat regular basis.  Some women go as natural as possible.  Some want every chemical product known to (wo)man during that time.  Most of us fall somewhere in between.  We all pretty much know it sucks.  From that first sign-be it a twinge-y headache, backache, bloat, bitchy feeling, cramps, or all of the aforementioned, we try to get rid of it.  So if there was a way to make it like pee, where it came out in one fell swoop we would all jump on that bandwagon, I'm certain!

My week of PMS consists of an anxiety-filled hamster wheel.  My poor husband is usually the first to recognize it.  Truly, he deserves kudos for this.  As I get older, it gets worse.  I can't sleep.  I worry myself silly.  Usually obsessing over one tiny thing.  Then I start my period and am totally fine again.  The anxiety is all-consuming, cannot focus on anything else, hart-racing, chest-burning, hand-shaking, terrifying monster in the room thing.  And once I start I'm like that stupid hamster running.  He will point out that it has been about 3-4 weeks since the last time I felt this way.  Much like a priest pointing out it has been a month since my last confession.  I let my shoulders relax in relief, and realize this will pass in a few days.  But seriously, I need to get a grip on myself.  I need to either find a cure or hit menopause because this damn hamster wheel has got. To. Go.

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