pms is a bitch

i. doesn’t make it any less real

a week ago, i barely felt anything except the strong urge to sleep, all the time, as a means of escaping reality. and then i didn’t even want to sleep anymore, because i’d spiral off into a deep abyss of Bad Thoughts about how life was just one heartbreak after another and sleep was only a temporary escape to this incessant, repetitive cycle of life. it got to the point i’d forgotten everything but apathy, and even flashes of irritation and anger were welcome, just anything but impassiveness. a few days ago, my day went instantly better and i suddenly remembered this was a familiar cycle. i used to blame it on my hormones acting up and i wasn’t really wrong – and now that i know it’s been PMS making me feel so shitty about life… does it make my feelings any less valid, the experience any less real? and if it doesn’t, what am i going to do with my bleak realisations?

ii. a rose by any other name

a week ago, i thought i had dysthymia (noun; persistent mild depression) because i couldn’t remember the last time i didn’t feel this way, i couldn’t remember the last time i felt. now i can chalk up my weird hormonal mood swings to PMS, but a rose by any other name smells just as sweet, so why am i less concerned that i have raging PMS than i was when i thought i might have had dysthymia? both follow you for the rest of your life and eat away at your feelings periodically, so what’s the difference? is it because i know i can seek help for one, but know there’s no current solution for the other and so can continue to wallow in misery all by myself without bothering anyone? because one is seen as a “natural, womanly” thing while the other is something that causes people to be singled out and ostracised? is it because i’d rather deal with the stigma of one over the other…?

iii. nature vs nurture

a week ago, i was so awfully depressing and depressed, and like how you wouldn’t know happiness without knowing sadness, i feel like this has made me a lot more grateful for the (approximate) other 75% of my life where i’m not hit as hard by my truckload of apathy. it might’ve made me a lot more appreciative of life and all my good days, from the colours in the sky (anyone who knows me knows that this is my number one favourite thing to write about), to spending time with my friends, to all the wonderful, fleeting moments i have. so is my gratitude a consequence of all my experiences, or is this something i was born with? would i have known to love everything so hard as and when i do, if i could have done so all the time? … funnily enough, this is the one thing i think i can answer, and i’m pretty certain the answer is that it’s a mixture of both nature and nurture.

 

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