Posts Tagged ‘pms’

A horrible mood

I am so PMS-ing and feeling like crap and everything in my body is all twitchy and throbbing with pain. I’d like to be unconscious now. I feel a vast mistrust for everyone and their little dog too. Also I keep bursting into tears. Thanks for asking!

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Mean people suck, so I’ll rant at them

I spent the morning being angry, which was no fun. Then I went to the rehab pool, which is hard work. I got dressed. Rook loaded me up into the care, and then I drove by myself trying to feel happy about being independent.

There are people who take pleasure in petty power. You find them behind desks, smug & obtuse. This guy was trying to make me mad by making me wait. And he was doing it to everyone else there too. To old ladies balancing on quad canes so bent over they could hardly lift their heads to see ahead of them. What is the point? Looking everywhere but at the people waiting. Ignoring all the people who were politely trying to just check in and go use the pool or who had a simple question. Finally it was my turn. And believe me I show no impatience in those situations and am extremely polite; but the guy who was there after me had made subtle eye contact with me and there was an obvious body language thing where I backed up to let him go first because he was in more difficulty. It was clear it was a huge effort for him to lift up his arm with the pool check-in card, and the guy behind the desk just ignored his request and dithered around and then deliberately cold shouldered him to turn to me. I told him to help the other guy first. The guy behind the desk acted angry. OMG! Horrible. I realized he was doing that thing that people do when they know very well that you need what they have, and you’ll have to ask them for help. That sort of person takes pleasure in being frustrating and cruel, and making you mad, then watching you be humiliated at having to ask for things, unable to express your anger.

I don’t understand it.

Anyway this random dude was hating on me and I was hating on him and trying to keep my temper. Then I came out of the locker room and realized he was now on shift as the lifeguard. And he was nasty to me again pointlessly. Then when I had to get out he was there smirking to help me. Smirking!

It was so petty, and so meaningless. But those things happen all the time. People sometimes help you out of meanness, to make you feel small. They add an extra kick as they throw you a penny.

It was a bit like Widmerpool suddenly being head of the War Office, and Jenkins realizing he had the power of life and death over everyone they knew to assign them to deadly war zones vs. desk jobs, and Widmerpool’s obvious pleasure in that, very much in miniature.

Normally I’m good about pointing out something like that bluntly and with some humor attached. Today I just clung to the side of the pool and bicycled my legs quietly and painfully as I looked around at the pool full of old people I was in there with and thought about all the shit they take.

All my fury, all my fierce entitlement, the good kind of it that believes all of us get to be treated like human beings, am I going to lose that? And learn to swallow it? Like they do?

Because I’ll have to?

I don’t think so. Instead I resolve to not take any bullshit.

There in the pool I thought of the way Medicare doesn’t pay for wheelchairs that are “intended for use outside of the home” thus dooming thousands and thousands of people who believed in “independent living” to a life of house arrest. Filled with rage… I bicycled my legs and looked out the window at the kids playing soccer in the fields outside and the gorgeous blue sky and the maple leaves blazed against everything, and thought of how things were in the Astrodome and realized I have to call on that sort of strength in myself to deal with people in my daily life.

There are kind people everywhere, people who work in hospitals and bring you warm blankets and seem conscious that such a simple act could alleviate real suffering. And then there are people who leave you lying naked in cold rooms on metal tables, with your wheelchair pushed out of the way and out of reach across the room, and the door shut, while they order tests or check with medical records or look for a file, and who act angry with you in advance to quash any expectation you might have of being treated decently, people who are having a shitty time and who take it out on others.

I like to think that no matter what kind of bad day I’m having I would choose to be the first kind of person. Also, that as in the Astrodome, behaving decently towards people and insisting on being treated decently yourself, spreads like ripples of sanity and helps everyone.

Silently enduring bad treatment only sets a bad example to everyone else around you, not just the people who should be told off, but the other people being treated badly. I think of how I went off on this woman at a bus stop once when she was pinching her little kid’s inside of the arm black and blue and I realized how futile yelling at her would be but did it anyway because the kid would get that voice of outside validation that abuse wasn’t okay.

I wrote all the letters of the alphabet in the water with my right leg, and thought of people get old and disabled and sick and don’t know how to speak up for themselves, in little situations or big ones, and how silence and shame conspire to kill people body & soul.

Oh also I’m so totally pms-ing that it’s not even funny.

Bring me the megaphone, and some chocolate, and I’ll conquer the world from bed, okay?

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State of the legs and the soul underneath

My legs hurt. Both of them. It’s not much fun. Also, allergies and cramps hit me at the same time. I can walk around, but the constant level of pain is disheartening today. It’s a day where I just want to lie on my left side, waiting to sleep again, and maybe crying gently every once in a while while staring at the ceiling (or really, the bookshelf and wall to my left).

Instead, I got Moomin ready, fed him, made his lunch, took him to school, went back to bed a while to read work email and think, oversaw the (brief) moving of the piano by movers, went to Bad Moms Coffee which was very comforting and sanity-making in general (thanks homies!), came home hurtily (but nutritiously fed on plum pie and bacon) to collapse; did laundry and dishes instead, collapsed, cried a bit, got over it, worked, wrote, paid bills, talked with a contractor who I hope to poach from the Pilot and Acrobat to put screens on the windows which lack screens, (now it is 4pm in my account of the day) picked up Moomin which was more exhausting than I thought it would be (and he was screaming in pain as he had just ran neck first into a metal footrest on some kind of pole), chivvied him upstairs and to pack his homework up, yelled at some random male teacher that the door should be unlocked and had a giant argument with him; had a very polite spanglish conversation with the super nice custodian, Ishamel, who explained to me that a year and a half ago he filled out a work order to get the door repaired but no one has answered it or fixed the door; took Moomin home and sat up with him at the table while he did his homework, filled out forms and read all the handouts for school, took him to Squid‘s house where I tried to be vaguely social while lying on my left side in various places about the pool and house, and drove home … I made him chicken nuggets but they turned out to be accidentally “meatless chicken nuggets” which he rejected. I am happy Rook is home now to deal with the rest of the homework and to cook mac and cheese… perchance to shop.

My day home to work from bed did not quite go as I thought it would.

I miss Zond-7 something fierce.

I tried to walk in to pick up Moomin, but the door was locked and I cried again and went back to my car and got the wheelchair and went around to the back of the building. I begged the after-care person to let me call them and they could send him down to me, though it is against their policy. They might. Or, the person who was there today might. But the other people who work there might not, so I will have to ask, explain, beg, and/or bully at least two more people and probably more.

The piano movers could not stop talking about my FMINIST license plate and I wanted to kill them. Dinosaurish old dudes with hernia belts in place, har-haring and asking what all this feminist stuff is or what, is it the same thing as it was 25 years ago or what? I asked what they thought it meant, and when I got more har-haring, mildly mentioned equal rights as being only fair and sensible. They also mentioned to me that I was too young to be walking with a stick. Thanks guys. I did not explain. I was not feeling very able to deal with hearty jocular people.

I also wrote my letter to the entire city council about the lack of curb ramps on my street and how I have to go in the street to take Moomin to school. It is scary and exhausting at best during the heavy traffic of morning drop-off. It’s not going to be tolerable at all when it gets dark and rainy.

It is humiliating and wearing to have to explain over and over. I go into it feeling defensive and angry and ashamed, but usually am able to do some magic to replace those feelings with patient reasonableness. Today I could not for the life of me come up with any of my usual nice. Possibly the allergies and stuffy head on top of everything else… chain sneezing… unable to breathe out of my nose… logy…

So, it was a day like that.

Thank god for reading, the internet, and abstract thought, which distract me and fill me with happy enthusiasm as I escape this rotten rotten body and its very annoying lumbar vertebrae and the nerves that come thickly cording out of them, apparently “insulted” beyond bearing at the moment.

Also, I’m so happy I have milk and soda and a bunch of frozen dinners.

I am pinning my hopes on calling my friend T. who will come and give me a 2 hour butt-and-leg massage. (Not minding if I cry).

Or, maybe I will feel better in the morning and this is some sort of blip of pms-ing. The cramps could be messing with my muscles and setting off spasms, I guess. Oh why do I feel like such crap… I was fine yesterday…

It freaks me out when the other leg starts to hurt right down to my toes.

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Odd bits of slang from Le Fanu

The other day I lost the book I was reading and had to read two other books in the middle & I’ve just (happily) found it again. So, back to Checkmate by Sheridan Le Fanu. The other two books were Dr. Wortle’s School and um… something else… dammit….

“Why didn’t ye fetch a line o’ the old author with you? asked the rider — meaning brandy.

A few lines later, “Would ye like a drop of the South-Sea mountain (gin)?” said the stranger, producing a flask from his pocket, which Paul Davies took with a great deal of goodwill…

I’d like to know the explanations for these! Is there a hill named Geneva in Southsea? What’s the line from the old author, something that rhymes with brandy… or what? It’s torture not to know.

Oh! and at breakfast I started reading a wonderful book from the Lakeside Press series of history books or really of original source material. Some German dude who travelled to the U.S. for the gala opening of the… of some railroad in the Northwest going through Minneapolis all the way to Portland. The railroad tycoon had borrowed something like 20 million dollars to build it and was losing money, so he threw a huge party and invited all the heads of state and investment bankers he could think of to take a trip out west for the ceremony. I’m only in the middle of the introduction to the book, but it’s already vastly amusing as random European bankers and diplomats and Counts and Countesses endure small-town parades & endless oratory about telegraphs and the Cornucopia of Wheat that the Railroad will Bring Forth all as they freak out quietly about how Indians might attack and they sip champagne & make fun of Minneapolis some more. Henry Villard is the tycoon – I just remembered. From what it said in the introduction he was a smart & fascinating dude. I have not gotten to anything about the German traveller yet.

Today I woke up very early, wrote a tiny bit, & then worked on teaching prep and paper organizing & grading. Until like, 2pm, which blew, but now I feel more prepared. The most creative writer in the class unfortunately had to drop, which bummed me out a bit today because I was looking forward to reading all their stuff and to being generally encouraging to an arty type of person with a little spark and poetry to them. Anyway, I’m prepared for class now. Then I hauled off with Moomin to drop him off at Hamster’s house. SuperT was out and so her fabulous mate took the kids for the day — he was hung over from St. Patrick’s drinking bout. Off to see Minnie briefly. Her pink skirt had me fooled – I thought it was a thrift store find from someone’s home ec class in 1964 but NO she had gone to a skirt-making class with the most pink and gnarly fabric EVER. It even has facing and that lace stuff on the inside hems. Jealous…. Then to Debbie’s which was nice as it always is. Gossip. Wisconny things. Books. I ate vast quantities of homemade bread and pizza. Caraja and I went off to work in a cafe in the Haight. Instead of writing, which I should have b/c it would have been relaxing, I messed around with vmware and ubuntu and parallels and reading all sorts of documentation and reading my work email too. (WTF?) Gave myself a headache… shouldn’t have… Caraja somewhat frazzled and dissatisfied with life, while I was completely fried, and I called xyzzy who also sounded like a fish gasping for the water of some kind of magical relaxation. Decided to go home. But really not quite home… I had to pick up Moomin from Mij’s house where he had gotten dropped off to hang out during the end of Rook’s Cthulhu game & their fancy dinner (lamb’s liver and fancy potatos and sole in cream sauce and god knows whatall else, cabbage and then dessert with strawberries and rhubarb.) I stopped off a couple of blocks away to say hi to Hamster’s mom SuperT because I haven’t seen her in a month or so and then I was all healed up by her warm amazingness. She’s been sick. We joked around like crazy…. She told me about birthday invites that say “No Parents” so you don’t have to feed like 4 times the amount of children you invite (and feed them with actual grownup food) and I was like “Yeah and plus it makes the child porn ring stuff way harder if the parents come” and she cracked up and was like “No man it’s like you get to put them to work in your factory rolling cigars. It teaches them to appreciate their life more.” Inappropriate remark contest! Her mom is here visiting and is very woo-woo austiny-seeming in a good way (as one would expect, knowing SuperT and her Earthy Elegant ways.)

So, onward to pick up Moomin. I started to get asthma right away from the rabbits in Mij’s house and had to leave. What a day of seeing people just a tiny bit! Moomin was playing with Mij’s great stuffed animal collection and came at me with a giant squid taller than he is, growling in a scary voice, “DEATH RAY TENTACLES, DEATH RAY TENTACLES!”. At home we hung out in bed reading almost to the end of Harry Potter.

The other day I had another inappropriate remark moment in the car with A.’s friend who I don’t know well at all. He was all like “And my last year of high school it was like everyone suddenly liked me. Even the jocks.” I blurted out, “Must have been all those blow jobs” and instead of anyone laughing, there was this awkward silence and someone finally went, “Um….. um?” and thinking quickly on how to rescue it I went, “It sure worked for me!” and finally got a laugh.

Back to Checkmate? Or back to the railroad adventure and observations on the quaint habits of rustic Americans? (I can tell it will be like the “Boost for Birdsburg!” people in Wodehouse, but more real.)

You see how it is with me, I get a weekend, I think of a day of down time in bed with books, and instead I worked a full day’s work, went on an hour long drive and visiting, drove some more, stupidly tried to work on real work, visited some more, visited some MORE… and now write this all down in order to “relax” and now I’ll go eat chocolate in the tub while I read a book that is as useless and frivolous as possible. Even normal pop culture would be useful as a social connection mechanism or way to be in touch with the zeitgeist I actually live in. I like old things best, or imaginary things, or things so new that no one understands them. Perhaps my mind has been carefully trained to enjoy things that are as useless as possible as a measure of class distinction and in order to fit me only for being a luxury good to be consumed by others who do actual useful things in the world. Plus, my boobs hurt. Am I pms-ing? Damn! Will I ever learn to do one thing at a time, at a reasonable human pace? Would I actually like to? Isn’t there time later for that, when I cut off all my hair and become a monk?

I was happy to see so many friends today but maybe tomorrow afternoon I’ll hole up in a dark den and see no one until I must. I’m not really complaining. It was a fabulous day.

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Physical panic and assessment

I’ve been hitting the wall of my physical limitations in the last week or so. The usual winter joint achiness slammed me hard. My knee is increasingly fucked up. Around 7pm pain floors me and I’m getting incoherent. I’ve been taking a bunch of Advil to cope with this, and that started up my stomach ulcer problems again. So last night at Squid‘s house after forgetting to eat all day I snarfed a bunch of pizza and was suddenly in horrendous pain. Plus, PMS. Then instead of being supportive for her I was in tears with my head on Debbie’s shoulder and then vaguely and indirectly begging Rook to drive me home, stat. Huh… Whoops!

“Take care of yourself.” I need to listen to that. Also, it was good advice, “Go to sleep. You hurt. You’re pms-ing. Now is not the time to assess your performance at your job, at parenting, at relationships and friendships.” Very good advice!

This weekend I am looking at 2 solid days of work, ended by a fun blogging party for the Oscars at A.’s house.

- handout for library blogging class, meant to be done by now; it isn’t (done!)
- go to library to try out computer space, runthrough of handout
- fix up event pages & invites for wiki wednesday (done!)
- wikichix meetup next week? pre wiki-wed (done!)
- work blogging, i have a lot built up that I need to say
- workflow organization, email folder setup, feeds (sunday)
- email Odin about our panel (done, and wiki setup too)
- seriously think about and deal with the overblogulation and cut back and find replacements for me in various areas, or delegate
- talk with jory and sj about Identity track & set up a wiki
- other stuff, i’d like to answer that dude Eric (gah!!!) and reorg the speaker wiki

I need to think about putting down time into today and tomorrow morning. Maybe scheduling naps. More coffee + advil + a drink later to unwind = stomach ulcers = hurty Badger.

Also, I thought maybe treating cooking as relaxation, or at least non-intellectual labor which gives my brain breathing space, and making some real comfort food tonight (that would be spaghetti & meatballs, somewhat labor intensive, but super worth it.) Maybe Rook will shop for it and help me cook.

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Amazing day

double silly amazing day today – Moomin’s test-making after taking the test at school – his funny speech to me – JM’s AMAZING WONDERFUL afternoon of teaching me for hours about teaching – a small bit of algebra with Jo – and then to WWD which was great – and dinner & hanging out with Yoz – I must write up details later but now am too exhausted to go into it.

Tomorrow I have to write up all the notes on teaching and put together the rough syllabus and the detailed version of the first few classes.

PMS-y and in great need of going off in a corner to write poetry.

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Better words for “pms”

Right now my boobs feel huge and annoyed. They could crush cities. They’re serious, grim, Schopenhauerish; they contemplate aesthetic principles and can barely cope with their constant thoughts of mortality, futility, and evil. It’s a week early, for fuck’s sake!

We need to have better words for PMS than “PMS”. Clearly there is something to be aware of – and it is fairly individual.

Anyway – people tend to mean some combination of:

- cranky
- physically uncomfortable in myriad ways such as
– bloated
– boobs hurty
– cramps
– really unbearably painful pain-type of “cramps”, over the top
– malaise
- broody
- weepy
- zitty
- greasy
- Suddenly feeling that one sees all the Dark Truths of One’s Life

And there’s more!

So why is there only a word for this (if it is true and not some mass North American hallucination) starting whenever someone coined “PMS” and it was used as a defense in some murder case? I have vague memories of reading about it in the H0uston Chr0nicle in the early 80s.

If there’s any truth to the “syndrome” some language should have a word for it. And there is surely a way to construct a cool Láadan statement describing it with flexible mood-indicators.

Am now thinking (with some mental nausea) of cheesy fantasy or pre-historical books where women are… you know… “aware of their approaching moon time”. Like, Ayla is probably aware of her approaching moon time. Or some equivalently barfy hippie phrase for it. She’s like … in touch with her essential womanhood or perhaps her moon flower is budding. Blah! Screw that noise!

It would be nice to coin some handy words for the many possible states of being and awareness including OMG MY BOOBS FUCKING HURT AND I FEEL ALL EMOTIONALLY COMPLICATED.

Send menstrual hut please, and ace bandages or boob-flattening binders.

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The uterine madness continues

Yesterday I was feeling very strange and kept sinking into a hideous edgy despair and wondering why. Like “wtf, why am i not happy at this very moment, when i should be? i suck! everything sucks! i especially suck! why do i feel like I want to sink into the ground?” and then while typing the words “I can’t figure out why I feel so horrible” into ichat and wondering whether I blamed myself, the patriarchy, Darth Vader, or YOU… I realized I was pmsing yet again because it is the exact end of the month and then this morning I woke up bleeding and needing to levitate to the bathroom like that julie doucet cartoon. With this nasty crampy bitchy feeling I think I could kick the ass of the entire world. In fact possibly Godzilla was on the rag. If I weren’t already convinced by the strangeness of nursing that hormones influence your mood — because I’d get all antsy and anxious and weepy and hot-footed feeling if I didn’t nurse regularly enough and then Moomin would nibble away and it was like a shot of smack right into the vein – Ahhhhhh – calm!!! — then I’d be convinced now because regularly every month I start feeling like it’s a giant battle to keep my usual cheerful optimism in place. Somoene twitches their finger and I want to cry because of the possible heat death of the universe or the pathos of kittens. It’s that bad. Then I wondered whether I should be more physically active and had a little pointless fantasy that I should have kept my truck and set up a light hauling business. I pictured myself way in shape and with magically healthy back and knees, hauling bricks to the dump, wearing a battered jumpsuit as I cleaned out other people’s garages again with magic non-allergies to dust, right down to the Amazon Light Hauling business cards. I may have shed a tear at this vision as well. I tell you, the day before my period I am insane.

Dude at least that fucking IUD is out and the bleeding part is completely reasonable now with only one “heavy” day. I look forward extremely to menopause.

I will drink a ton of coffee and take some tylenol and try to not sink into the semi-comatose “blah” state. I’m past “despair” and now into “oh, whatever, stare at ceiling” but would really, really, prefer to work today, to go through my notes form the trip and email people and work on some translations, and my new fabulous wiki. In fact I’d like to get the synchronized desktop mediawiki all working so i can work offline on it and do a push up to the server every so often! Think how nice that would be!

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blahs

Maybe I’m pms-ing. Things seem lovely, mostly, but then I’m haunted by horrible feelings of negative cluelessness. What am I supposed to be doing with myself? At least I slept 8 hours for the first time in over a week.

I’m reading this book of Mistral’s prose about women and the translation (no spanish included) makes me grit my teeth madly… I can extrapolate the spanish from the superclumsy sentences! “She deceives the facility of the paragraph so that language assumes a natural function.” You know.. I just fucking doubt this is what Mistral meant and would guess she was saying something to the effect that the person she was writing about makes her paragraphs look effortless so that the language flows naturally, with ease, but it’s deceptively effortless. But you wouldn’t know what that sentence meant in English, would you? Because “facility” is not a good translation at all of “facilidad” in this context. The whole book is like that! I don’t understand how it can be! It’s like my first or 2nd drafts – or sometimes a sentence like that gets published and embarrasses me forever – but a whole book of it?! “I remained dumbfounded…” you know… keeping the “remained” in there doesn’t do a damn thing…. How about going out on a limb and just saying “I was dumbstruck” ?

Moomin is reading the Cartoon History of the Universe and doesn’t want to stop no matter what I offer. I arranged a playdate for him a bit later. He did a bunch of homework and we talked about adding up amounts of money. I sewed his costume. It’s a beautiful day… I could take him and his friend to the park, later…

I just feel a little disconnected and lonely, for no good reason. I missed bad moms coffee yesterday, again, which depressed me. And I’ll miss JP’s party, also a bummer.

But tonight, a game! That cheers me up amazingly!

Maybe I’ll hammer the final nail into the coffin of the last 2 days of utter domesticity and make cookies, or pie.

My mom encouraged me to write out all my projects and set some priorities, and time scales, and plan, and commit to finishing one by the beginning of December. I’ll write that up and put it here.

Again- all is well – very well – just a tiny bit of inexplicable melancholy…

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sad

I’m so fucking sad and angry… and hurt feeling… I can’t handle it tonight.

Maybe I’m pmsing on top of all those feelings? Because it’s definitely like the little bit of the snow queen’s mirror is in there. FUCK.

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