D'vorahDavida
Yetzirah

Today I am freaked.

[album 65561 Crazy Lady.JPG]

I'm having my period. I know, I know, too much information. Well, if that statement annoys you, please move on to another less whacked area of the internet. It's going to get worse.

Anyway, as I was saying, I'm having my period, which may explain a LOT. But it annoys me that it explains a lot. I mean why should I have to be aware that my freaked day is most likely the result of a toxic cocktail of chemicals having a field day inside my poor beleaguered body? What kind of new madness is this? You mean I cannot have a run of the mill, ordinary, garden variety freaked day, without the added burden of being aware of its origins thanks to the marvels of modern science? I think I must be from the old school in this respect. "ignorance is Bliss" being one of the tenets of my alma mater.

Besides that, OTHER people know about the hormone situation and are much more likely to address THEM rather than dealing with ME. It's like they are talking to the hand puppet instead of the real me! Grrrrrrr!

"Oh, it's just her hormones, pay no attention to her, it will pass, it's not real, it doesn't really count, it's not to be taken seriously. She just needs more chocolate and another good book or something. Let's go away for the day and leave her alone, that way we don't have to deal with her artificial, imaginary, hormone induced neediness. Yep, that's the ticket. Let's split."

What a crock of shit!

Does anybody CARE that my uterus is now the size of a softball due to the troll like group of "normal" fibroids that have taken up residence in there where I can't SEE them? Does it matter that whatever I try, I cannot seem to lose any significant amount of weight? Is anyone CONCERNED that I can't remember my own phone number? And if it wasn't for a labyrinthinely... (yeah, it's a word. I just made it up) complex calendar and note taking system, that I could not possibly function on any but the most rudimentary levels?

Has anyone noticed that I am knitting felted wool bags as if my very LIFE depended on it? Let's be honest - it's nothing noble and normal and socially acceptable like, "Oh I'm starting a little cottage industry on the side".... It's frickin' THERAPY okay???????
Let's call a spade a spade. Or a fibroid a fibroid in my case.

So hey, listen, I gotta go now. I have reached my "sit still and write something" limit. I have to go dash around the house and garden for a while to calm (HA!) down.

Have a nice day.

(Anybody know a good Shrink?.... I think *I* need one now....)

Thin ice there ( ) , very thin ice.

(Gawd, what am I going to do with her?)