So the thing is, sorry if this is TMI, but I've had my period for nine days now. It hasn't been *that* heavy, or anything, and I feel like a wuss complaining when so many people have even worse problems, but I've always been one of those women with the textbook cycles that are right around 30 days long and only have cramps on the first day and taper off and go away by the fourth or fifth day. So for me, this is like the end of the world. (I think it's finally ending, so, that'll be nice.) The thing that's been most distressing, though, is that I've been losing my mind. Last week I texted a friend that I was so uncomfortable I just wanted to crawl out of my own skin, then beat some motherfuckers to death with my bloody, muscle-clad bones. (I more or less meant it, too; I was so incredibly uncomfortable, and I can't explain how-- trapped at work, maybe, trapped in my body, for sure, just very, very edgy and miserable and I don't know why.)
It's persisted; Tuesday I was headachey and cranky like a wounded bear, and annoyed a customer, which sparked lectures from two coworkers-- extra condescending lectures, I might add-- one of whom thought I was too soft, the other who thought I was too hard on the customer-- and the boss texted me about it two hours after closing, while I was at a roller derby function. And lectured me yesterday morning. Fucking great, that's what I need.
I flew into a rage at two insentient machines, freaked out and lost my shit. (Before anyone else was there, so it was all good.) Every driver was an asshole, every pedestrian a lazy sack of shit, it was just all dire and the end of the world. Even as I was yelling to myself, I knew that wasn't really true; the world is no worse today than it was last month. The difference is obviously me.
My boss even noticed, and at one point told me to "just keep swimming," which made me laugh, fortunately.
I tried to practice harp last night and was rubbish at it and hated it. Which hasn't ever happened before, so that was distressing. I drank two glasses of wine and sulked on the couch.
This morning when I got up I couldn't find my glasses. I usually put them on the side of the bed-- the bedframe makes a little ledge. For once the floor near there was clean and I could tell I hadn't knocked them down. Very occasionally I leave my glasses in the bathroom after washing my face; I usually notice when I do so. But, and this might be gross and I'm sorry but that's the gritty reality of my life, I hadn't washed my face or brushed my teeth before bed; I'd been so tired I'd just gone straight to sleep. So my glasses weren't there.
Missing my glasses is a crisis, because I cannot see far enough to spot them if they're on the floor or on a table. I have an effective focusing distance of three feet, two if there's fine detail (like reading). Anything beyond that is a vague blur and I can't be sure I can even navigate, let alone find a small dark pair of glasses frames.
I had to roust Z out of bed to have him look, and finally I found them. Next to my computer. In the living room. Where I'd taken them off before stumbling through the house to go to bed. I never do that. I never ever do that. It doesn't make sense for me to do that. I am a person who is careless with possessions, sure, but I'm blind without my glasses and can't get from one room to another. So who was I, that I'd leave them in the living room???
It was distressing. So I called in to work. If I don't even recognize myself, I shouldn't be attempting to conduct business.
It's persisted; Tuesday I was headachey and cranky like a wounded bear, and annoyed a customer, which sparked lectures from two coworkers-- extra condescending lectures, I might add-- one of whom thought I was too soft, the other who thought I was too hard on the customer-- and the boss texted me about it two hours after closing, while I was at a roller derby function. And lectured me yesterday morning. Fucking great, that's what I need.
I flew into a rage at two insentient machines, freaked out and lost my shit. (Before anyone else was there, so it was all good.) Every driver was an asshole, every pedestrian a lazy sack of shit, it was just all dire and the end of the world. Even as I was yelling to myself, I knew that wasn't really true; the world is no worse today than it was last month. The difference is obviously me.
My boss even noticed, and at one point told me to "just keep swimming," which made me laugh, fortunately.
I tried to practice harp last night and was rubbish at it and hated it. Which hasn't ever happened before, so that was distressing. I drank two glasses of wine and sulked on the couch.
This morning when I got up I couldn't find my glasses. I usually put them on the side of the bed-- the bedframe makes a little ledge. For once the floor near there was clean and I could tell I hadn't knocked them down. Very occasionally I leave my glasses in the bathroom after washing my face; I usually notice when I do so. But, and this might be gross and I'm sorry but that's the gritty reality of my life, I hadn't washed my face or brushed my teeth before bed; I'd been so tired I'd just gone straight to sleep. So my glasses weren't there.
Missing my glasses is a crisis, because I cannot see far enough to spot them if they're on the floor or on a table. I have an effective focusing distance of three feet, two if there's fine detail (like reading). Anything beyond that is a vague blur and I can't be sure I can even navigate, let alone find a small dark pair of glasses frames.
I had to roust Z out of bed to have him look, and finally I found them. Next to my computer. In the living room. Where I'd taken them off before stumbling through the house to go to bed. I never do that. I never ever do that. It doesn't make sense for me to do that. I am a person who is careless with possessions, sure, but I'm blind without my glasses and can't get from one room to another. So who was I, that I'd leave them in the living room???
It was distressing. So I called in to work. If I don't even recognize myself, I shouldn't be attempting to conduct business.