Aug. 22nd, 2013

deathpixie: (grumpy)
Some days I get so fed up with demands - other people's, my own, whatever - that all I want to do is run off for a month or so and just disappear on some island somewhere.

Then I remind myself that I couldn't handle my own company that long and go crazy with loneliness.

Bah.

I am okay, really. Just tired and, despite reassurances from the doctor that increasing my medication would take care of it, in the middle of the usual epic PMS mood swings. So, it's time to take my own advice and go get some Evening Primrose Oil to see if I can't operate like a normal human being instead of tipping between gloomy and depressed and cranky and psychotic for three days a month. At least I finally remembered to ask the doctor about potential interactions with the anti-depressants last time I saw her.

It's so frustrating, being such a hostage to your hormones. I mean, I can handle the cramps and the backache and the ick, but I hate feeling like a total crazy person with no ability to react rationally. No wonder men think women are emotional and high-strung - we bloody fulfill the stereotype once a month, even when we don't want to.

Bah. Again.

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