FML (on the days before my period)

Sunday: I am at the cinema to watch Project Hail Mary (Amazing movie btw). The person I came with is annoying me. He is talking during really important scenes, trying to be funny, telling me the score of an ongoing football match. I want to throw him out of the cinema; I want to drag him by the ear and keep him just outside the room. At a very crucial and emotional moment, he interrupts to tell me that it is cringe. I don't know when the words STFU escape my mouth. I cover it up with a laugh. He thinks I'm joking, but I was being serious. Or maybe he did not hear.  Either way, I immediately feel deeply ashamed that this has happened.

During the movie, there is a thing about the main characters hugging. Those scenes remind me of a time in a past life when I found solace in someone's hugs. I am overwhelmed with sadness because thinking about those hugs leads me down a sad memory lane. But I am watching a good movie, so it is not the time to ruminate on that.

The movie is over, and I am telling the guy that he had me wondering if something was wrong with him every time he tried to talk during key moments. He proudly responds, "Yes", and says he has found a way to tease and annoy me during movies. He thinks it is cute. I do not laugh. I ask him what he thinks about the movie, and he responds, "It was okay, except for so many unnecessarily emotional scenes". I explain that, given the context of the movie, they were far from a lot, or unnecessary. He says he found them cringeworthy. My annoyance is at an all-time high. 

Later, I ask what type of movies he likes, and he says with a huge smile on his face, "Movies with a lot of action and extreme violence...extreme violence". I am fighting to hide the disgust on my face. "Hmm", I respond.  Does he think this is evidence of his masculinity? I ask myself how someone could think that possessing this level of emotional intelligence is an admirable or attractive trait. I know I am being a little too harsh, because this does not say everything about him, but still. I want to go home.

I'm back in my apartment and thinking about the movie. I feel I would have appreciated it more if I had understood some of the science involved; I start watching YouTube videos on Einstein's theory of relativity. Although I understand what is being said, I'm not sure I grasp the concept. I conclude that I might be a little stupid. That makes me sad. I compensate by telling myself that I was once good at Math, so perhaps, with the right teacher and enough time invested, I should be able to understand some of these things.  That does not work. I try again by acknowledging that we can't all be good at everything. That does not work either: This is basic science; I suck at geography, too.

Is this why I did not understand the movie, Everything, Everywhere, all at once? I'm sure there was some underlying science concept in the film which escaped me. I'm bewildered by how simple-minded I am. I have never desired to be a woman in STEM (They have all my respect), but suddenly, the thought that I am not, and seem incapable, completely devastates me.

My mind is racing with a thousand thoughts: An ex with cancer, a celebrity with ALS, all the diseases that could just creep up on us without any exact reason, getting hit by a car, an aeroplane crashing into my apartment, falling down stairs and twisting my neck, being a victim of murder etc. What is all this for, when it could all end in a moment? Anxiety seizes me. If it does not happen to me, it could happen to a loved one...at any moment. I have not spent enough time with them in the last few years. Grief will completely wreck me. It is all too much.

Monday: I am at the gym. I have 35 minutes left to work out, and I have already started on the squat rack. I should have worked my upper body today, since I am always quicker with that. I start to beat myself up for this poor decision. I know it is not that deep; tomorrow is another day, but still.

I get off the train, and on the escalator, a man stops for two seconds on the left side (the lane for walking). I picture going on a social media rant about how people who stand on that lane must think those standing on the right are all idiots. Who does not want to stand on the side that is freer? It really is not that serious. It was clear the man was unaware, and he moved immediately, but still.

I start to think about how this is not my favourite version of myself. I also realize that with age, I am more aware of when it is happening; I am more conscious of my thoughts and triggers, and make more of an effort to deal with them. I wonder how this must have affected those around me all these years. 

The memory from the movies returns. We have a little time to ruminate on it now. "Whenever I see you, I see the physical embodiment, the physical representation of stress", the person whose hugs I loved had said to me, in response to me asking why their hugs had started getting colder every few months when I saw them. Was I that bad? What must I have done to deserve being told that? It's been months since this was said, and I believe I have since forgiven the person and let it go. But still, those words start to carry new weight. I feel the pain that spread through my body the first time I heard them. I feel sad that I will never be able to think fondly of those hugs without thinking of those words. My mind looks for new ways to dissect those words so that they hurt even more.

"Your feelings are valid, but it's not that deep",  the same person had said to me back in the day when being on Twitter, especially during this time of the month, would have me feeling like I was being crushed by the weight of the world's problems. I would be worn down by hopelessness and helplessness in the face of the injustices I read about and saw. "Some things are that deep, actually", I think to myself, "but for the sake of your sanity, it was necessary to limit the negativity you were consuming". Did I try to make the world's problems their problems? Maybe I did that sometimes. I feel remorseful about that, but I also wish they could have been a little nicer to me. It makes me sad that they weren't.

My mind suddenly moves to another memory with this person, where their response to a poem I had shared made me feel disregarded. It's been almost a year since it happened, but at this moment, their disregard and disinterest hurt and embarrass me deeply, all over again. Why didn't they care about what I had shared? I would have cared. What did I do to have been treated like that? My self-pity disgusts me. I am disgusted with them; I am angry and upset. 

It's in the past; it'll pass. But my mind doesn't care about all of that. I feel very tired. 

In class, we are to correct a problem question in preparation for our upcoming exams. I had worked hard on the question all weekend. Within the first minute of the Professor's response, I realize I have made a colossal mistake. I had misread the dates, which were crucial to the response; my entire response is wrong. I am absolutely crushed; I want to dieee. Maybe all this time you've been thinking you're smart enough and only need to work harder, but maybe you're only good at posturing as intelligent. Maybe you are not cut out for this. You are so sloppy; you don't have what it takes. What type of lawyer makes such a basic and careless mistake? You might never make it. Why even bother?

Jiri ya nwanyo, Vas-y-mollo, Chidimma! 

Not so fast; it'll pass. I know it is better to have made the mistake now, when it doesn't count. But my mind doesn't care about all of that. I feel really sleepy. 

Tuesday: I'm at the gym, and I have Blem by Drake on repeat. My mind goes to 2017 when the song first came out. My brother had found it really funny when he asked me if I knew what 'Blem' meant, and I responded formally, "To be high on marijuana". I didn't think it was that funny then, but the memory is a fond one now. I miss those days. I miss my brother. I miss my family. I almost start crying. I had just been smiling less than two minutes ago at the end of the song when Lil Wayne spoke.

On my way back from the gym, I am looking at my reflection. There is something about my knees that disturbs me from time to time. Right now, it is all I see as I walk. I almost do not see the rest of my body. Just knees.

At home, I look in the mirror and do not like what I see. I have tried not to look a lot because I know I have a very distorted view of my body during this time. I start to press on my flesh. There's no time for this; we have places to be.

I do not want to die, but if somehow I died today, I wouldn't be here to feel bad about it, so it wouldn't be such a bad experience. I feel no strong emotions at this thought.

It won't last; it'll pass. But my brain does not care about all of that. I feel fatigued.

Wednesday: I am at the Library writing this out, and I have had to go to the bathroom many times to wipe my tears. Recounting the emotions I feel in each paragraph has me feeling dismal. I feel sad about the fact that I feel sad and overwhelmed. That makes me laugh a little. 

All my demons have come out to play, and they're having a field day. FML.

 I know, it'll pass.

It'll pass, it'll pass. But right now, neither my mind nor my body cares about all of that. I do not care about all of that. I feel exhausted.

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While I have tried as much as possible to capture a lot of the symptoms I deal with, it is important to note that people, their personalities, and their life situations are different. Therefore, these symptoms manifest differently in each individual. Regardless, I find that one way or another, many women still relate to these experiences.

As a woman who is very aware of the way the world views women, it is sometimes a very delicate conversation for me to confront. On the one hand, it feels as though I should not give stupid people the ammunition to say "aha, this is why women cannot be president, they'll bomb everywhere when they're on their period" (like the men we've had have been all that great), or to trivialize women's grievances by linking them to irrationality connected with their hormones. On the other hand, women are dealing with these issues that impact their lives in many ways. 

Accepting that those looking for ammunition are indeed extremely stupid, incapable of nuance, and are looking for any reason to discredit women, anyway, made it a little easier to have these conversations. Recognizing something, putting a name to it, helps the person going through it make sense of it; it helps the people around them make sense of it and make the effort to be more accommodating. It helps women be more vigilant, identify their triggers, and take accountability in situations where they may act out of character, and it also helps them be kinder to themselves.

For anyone struggling with this, try not to be hard on yourself. Your mind exacerbates some of the worst feelings you have about yourself and even creates new negative feelings. It sometimes hyperfixates on things that already bothered you.  Do all you can to keep your head down till it passes. If possible, try (and I know how incredibly difficult it is) to get some physical activity in, no matter how sluggish you might feel: anything is better than nothing at all. Try to distract yourself with more positive things. Watch your favourite shows. Eat healthy meals (but give in to the occasional craving). Get enough sleep. Listen to your body. Be aware of any triggers you might have, and try to limit them as much as possible. Avoid making any major, life-changing decisions.

Most importantly,  amidst all the self-criticism, the fear of rejection, the hopelessness, the anxiety, the feeling of emptiness, etc., the people around you could either provide you with some comfort or bring you down further. In such a vulnerable state, you need all the love from people who make it seem as though they are happy to be there for you, and who do not make you doubt, even for a second, that you are not a burden. Tell those people how you're feeling. They probably suspect when you are not your best self, but try to communicate with them as much as you can; that might help clear up some misunderstandings. Lean on them; cry on their shoulders. Yes, I know the world is harsh, and you will not always have the space to fall apart or to be less contained, like at work or wherever else, but your safe spaces should afford you that opportunity, if the need arises. 

Finally, if you have tried everything and can absolutely not cope at all during this time each month, please see your doctor about it. Take medication if needed. There is no shame in that. Life is tough enough, and taking care of yourself through medication should never be another reason for you to feel down about yourself. We are all dealing with something, and our lives are all the better when we get the help and support we need.