On being a woman
This happens to me every time. Every month.
It goes something like this. I'm fine, I'm happy, life is OK, and then suddenly I get this low-level anxiety, read non-existent slights into friends' behaviour. Become slightly paranoid. I mean, really only very slightly, but I'm not usually, so it's annoying. I feel ever-so-slightly on the verge of tears.
Like, yesterday, I was in town. Crossing a busy street, some I'm-in-a-hurry man was tapping his feet on the pavement, as if his investment portfolio would drop two points for every wasted second, waiting for the lights to change. As they did, he barged past me, muttering "can't you move" as if I had in someway been unreasonable. And I felt terrible, like I'd done something wrong, got a telling off. I even felt as if, possibly, I might cry.
Sometimes, men don't even know what it's like.
Of course I didn't cry, just went on to my appointment.
The news made me almost-cry. The tube made me almost-cry. I felt delicate and sensitive. I called my brother and told him. He was understanding.
And then today, I get out my... spreadsheet. Oh, this is tricky. I so don't want to be the number one google search for menstrual cycle, but needs must. And I look at my charts and contemporaneous notes spanning ten years.
And guess what? I mean, I knew this, and I didn't know this. I'm due on in a week, and every month I feel like this. It's the third-week three-bar blues. Only pale blue, but, like, after all this time, I should recognise it, right?
It's the same every month. It's like I have to relearn my body every month. Must. Make. Mental. Note.