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wow, what a week
Monday, 23 January 2006 11:14 amWaking up yesterday morning feeling normal has made me realise how absolutely weird I've been feeling for the last week. Fortunately, I know exactly what caused this, which means I can explain it for the benefit of various people I may have met at various parties and at whom I have been either rude, vague or absent. In a word: hormones. (And you may want to stop reading here if Girl Trouble constitutes Too Much Information in your universe).
The singular lack of romantic entanglement in my life has meant that I vaguely stopped taking contraceptives a while back, which means that for two years psychotic PMT has had me in its grip once a month. This is seriously not fun, apart from being merry hell on the crockery, so last month I got around to putting myself madly back on the pill again, a suitably hormone-levelled one. The only problem is that the hormones only last for three weeks; one takes a placebo for the other week, presumably because the probably male designers of said hormones feel that you're Just Not A Woman if you don't menstruate. All well and fine, and the three weeks of hormone certainly cut the PMT symptoms. Except that they didn't. They saved them carefully up, multiplied them by ten, and dumped them into the hormone-free week. So, instead of my usual 2-day PMT, I had an entire week of constant headaches, incredible depression, hair-trigger temper, outbursts of meaningless rage, hysteria, self-loathing, crowd phobia and panic attacks. These stopped, abruptly, overnight, when I took the first hormone-laden pill of the new batch - ain't modern medicine wonderful?
So, that's what it is, folks: for the last week I have been basically insane. If I've growled at you in that state, I do apologise, but I feel that the plea of temporary insanity is valid in law. I certainly have achieved absolutely no actual work whatsoever, given the thick fog of hormonal angst and the resultant basic sense that it's all pointless, anyway, why bother? Conversely, I have written three thousand words in the last two days. Next month, I shall continue blithely on to the next pill pack, ignoring the placebos entirely, and hopefully it'll all settle down. Sigh.
Oh, and Khoi_Boi, you may want to watch your use of the phrase "flower of British womanhood" in our next Falkenstein game. Not just because it's dodgy as all get-out, but because the word "womanhood" is currently making me wince.
The singular lack of romantic entanglement in my life has meant that I vaguely stopped taking contraceptives a while back, which means that for two years psychotic PMT has had me in its grip once a month. This is seriously not fun, apart from being merry hell on the crockery, so last month I got around to putting myself madly back on the pill again, a suitably hormone-levelled one. The only problem is that the hormones only last for three weeks; one takes a placebo for the other week, presumably because the probably male designers of said hormones feel that you're Just Not A Woman if you don't menstruate. All well and fine, and the three weeks of hormone certainly cut the PMT symptoms. Except that they didn't. They saved them carefully up, multiplied them by ten, and dumped them into the hormone-free week. So, instead of my usual 2-day PMT, I had an entire week of constant headaches, incredible depression, hair-trigger temper, outbursts of meaningless rage, hysteria, self-loathing, crowd phobia and panic attacks. These stopped, abruptly, overnight, when I took the first hormone-laden pill of the new batch - ain't modern medicine wonderful?
So, that's what it is, folks: for the last week I have been basically insane. If I've growled at you in that state, I do apologise, but I feel that the plea of temporary insanity is valid in law. I certainly have achieved absolutely no actual work whatsoever, given the thick fog of hormonal angst and the resultant basic sense that it's all pointless, anyway, why bother? Conversely, I have written three thousand words in the last two days. Next month, I shall continue blithely on to the next pill pack, ignoring the placebos entirely, and hopefully it'll all settle down. Sigh.
Oh, and Khoi_Boi, you may want to watch your use of the phrase "flower of British womanhood" in our next Falkenstein game. Not just because it's dodgy as all get-out, but because the word "womanhood" is currently making me wince.
