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Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Normal/Bad times 10,468

Well. Take your average kind of horrible PMS day ( or your friends if, say, you're a dude). Multiply the crappiness of that day by 10,468. You will now have gotten close to reaching the level of weepy emotional bitch that I currently living on. For women, it's the ebb and surge of Progesterone and Estrogen that cause the majority of PMS symptoms. I am currently injecting more then 200 times the normal levels of those hormones, intentionally and on purpose, into my body. And will continue to do so for another 6 weeks. in addition to the ever growing amount of those same said hormones that I'm now producing naturally, thanks to the wee little traveler. Things that would previously have just bugged me are now PISSING ME OFF and things that would previously have touched me are turning me into a blubbering puddle of goo.

Example of the patheticness that is my current life: Season finale of Dancing with the Stars. Yes. That uber stupid show. I swear, I broke into TEARS when Helio won. I WEPT. Shameful. Both that I watched that show and, you know, the weeping.

How to cope with such a sad, sad existence? Keep busy. Keep very, very busy. I am never not doing something. Even when I'm sitting doing nothing, I'm doing something. I learned to crochet from the lovely Lynlee when I flew down for transfer, and the number of dishrags I've got in the rag drawer is ever growing. Fingers busy, mind numbing counting stitches, ever busy. It's a craft and hobby I can do that causes no mess, I can start and stop whenever without any warning, it takes up no space and costs pennies. LOVE it. Granted, all I can make are, you know, dishrags because they're square and use non-furry yarn, but still. Everyone who eats needs a dishrag, right? Guess what most are getting for Christmas... you just guess.

Lucky for me, I have a decent grasp on reality. Even as I rage or blubber, I know it's the extra hormones. Not to say that I wouldn't normally be pissed off or happy, but my inhibitions around those normal emotions are gone. It's kind of freeing, actually. Ever wonder what I really thought of you? Ha, now's the time to ask. The "happy friendly puppies and rainbows" filter is not really working these days. For true friends and loving family, this is not a problem. Husband has been awesome. I can cry or rage all I want and he gets it. He understands. I've spent hours, literally, having a bitch-fest all about me with my best buddy and she gets it. She understands. It's very freeing and awesome knowing that I'm surrounded by such loving, understanding support. Just because I blubber a lot doesn't mean I'm emotional weak, just because I rage a lot doesn't mean I have an anger problem. It means that I'm almost OD'ing on some heavy stuff and this is how life is for me right now. We accept that and move on with things.

In the mean time, anyone want a dishrag?


Kate said...

I can't even imagine how hard it must be, as I didn't cope with my pregnancies all that well, and that was just the usual hormone levels. I feel for you! And I'm so very glad you've got that fantastic support so close to you.

Tis a wonderful, wonderful thing you are doing.

Life Is Good said...

It isn't nice to have good friends?
Don't worry...you will get through this too! Besides...at least you have an excuse...those of us not pregnant...we don't get to get away with that without someone calling us a bad word! hee hee

Bump Fairy said...

Ahh Jen, emberace the bad word. *be* the bad word. It is incredibly freeing to be so blatantly honest. If honesty is a bad word bring it, honey.

Lynlee said...


Wait. Don't cry! It was a JOKE!

Bump Fairy said...


Wait..... Actually no, go ahead and cry.


Franay said...

Dude. Since you're all grouchy and weepy and making a million dishrags could one say the you are both pregnant AND "on the rag?"

That's my shitty pun for the day. Actually, I'm really enjoying the extra bitchiness since it sort of drags you down to my level. I feel that our uber-bitch sessions are so enhanced by this magnifying of your fierceness that I might actually miss it when it's gone.

And too, if I had to inject things via needle into my ass on a daily basis I wouldn't need the extra hormones to make me bitchy. I'd be there already.

Love ya!