The Suffering

PMS

A powerful spell that women are put under about once every month, which gives them the strength of an ox, the stability of a Window’s OS, and the scream of a banshee. Basically, man’s worst nightmare – Urban Dictionary’s definition

Today was a bad day. It’s Monday and as if that isn’t bad enough it is the first of day of my monthly visitor.

PMS is not something that I ever really suffered from (yes I used the word SUFFER because that is exactly what it is! SUFFERING at the hands of Mother Nature for 3- 5 days each month) but somewhere, something has changed because now my uterus hates me! And what’s worse I turn into something I can’t even begin to describe. It’s best I’m not around people on a day like today, anything could happen. Luckily, today was my day off and here’s how it went…

So I woke up this morning from…I’m going to have to say a nightmare although it did not include the paralysing fear that usually comes with my nightmares however I feel if I don’t call it that then my sanity may be questioned. So in this “nightmare” I was using brute force and a large saw type knife to carve my way through a door to massacre the people on the other side. I was collecting skulls judging by the bucket that was at my feet. On a normal day this would have horrified me but this was not a normal day. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, had a good old stretch and rolled over to cuddle up to my partner. I described my dream in as much detail as I could remember while he looked on horrified. I shrugged and got up to go to the bathroom.

After my partner left for work I realised that I was experiencing pain of the menstrual variety. It made me feel nauseous and seemed to be a lot more than I normally experienced. Immediately I began googling reasons why period pain could become worse, you know, in case I was dying. Instead I stumbled across some period pain memes that made me laugh and resonated so much that I shared one on Instagram to let the men of this world know that the struggle is real.

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I eventually got up out of bed and headed to the kitchen to remedy my pain. I put the kettle on and searched for my hot water bottle. The sofa found me half way through my search and that is where I laid for half an hour, grumbling about the cramps in my lower abdomen. David called to see how I was feeling (he’s lovely like that) and I complained and whined about my tummy. He advised me to take pain killers, fill my water bottle and have a cuppa. I told him I would do just that. I laid there for another half an hour feeling sorry for myself and enduring the stabs to uterus.

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I got up and put the kettle on again, successfully taking two paracetamols, putting a tea bag into a cup and pouring on the hot water. I filled my water bottle and headed back to the sofa to lie in the foetal position. I left my cup of tea with the bag still stewing but had no energy to go and retrieve it.

I decided I was hungry, I got up from the couch to go and fix myself some breakfast. The tea had gone cold, I threw it down the sink and boiled the kettle again to make another for the third time. Now one thing I should be acutely aware of by now is that when I am PMSing I drop everything. At least 4 times. Things I should really avoid are kettles, irons, glassware and babies. God help me when I am a mother or should I say God help my baby. Anyways so when I picked up the bottle of nail polish from the fridge (that’s where we have to keep them ,here in Queensland, Australia due to the humidity to avoid it going all gloopy) to shake the bottle randomly I should have known that I would drop it and smash it all over the kitchen floor! That’s not the best part, my kitchen is what only can be described as fun size. The tiled floor is only 1.5 ft. wide, immediately met by carpet. Leaving no room for a splash radius. To add insult to injury, I don’t own my apartment.

I dropped to my knees shouting expletives at the growing pool of turquoise/blue nail polish. I didn’t even know how to begin cleaning it up so decided to scoop up what I could up with my hands. Of course this did not work so I grabbed a cloth and tried a mixture of wiping, scrubbing and blotting. Nothing was making this better. It was staining my hands as well as the tiles and carpet, it looked like I had murdered a smurf.

I googled ways to clean nail polish from a carpet. Windex! I grabbed the Windex spray from the shower and sprayed furiously. It made zero difference. I quickly pulled some clothes on  with no time for brushing my hair or a make up application  I rushed down to the supermarket underneath our apartment complex looking like a hobo to scour their cleaning aisle. I gathered up a basket full of things that looked like they could possibly help all the while trying to hide my stained hands from the other shoppers.

After about an hour of cleaning, with no improvement I admitted defeat and gave up. I was a sweaty, tired, hungry, nauseous and emotional mess. I lay back on the carpet and wept, cursing the nail polish, all the bull shitters on the internet with their ridiculous cleaning methods that don’t even fucking work and the fact I had just spent $40 on cleaning products I probably wouldn’t use again. While I was lying there all pathetic, I noticed a small shiny thing by head. I picked it and upon further inspection I discovered it was a small rhinestone, it looked like a blue topaz. Such an unusual thing to find on the floor. It looked like it had fallen out of some jewellery but I don’t own any jewellery with this coloured stone in it. I scrunched up my eyes and threw it to one side to silence the ludacris voice that told me it was a rhinestone from some slutty girls’ underwear that David had been messing around with. Such a mean thing to think of someone who actually loves me and puts up with me even when I’m like this but you have to understand… I HAVE NO SOUL, IT CAME AWAY WITH THE LINING OF MY UTERUS!

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Still being hungry, I crawled to the fridge and sat cross legged in front of the open door enjoying the cooling temperature. I decided on eggs and avocado with spinach. I began pulling ingredients from the fridge and noticed the spinach had been too close to the back and had frozen. I gritted my teeth, scrunched up my eyes and tensed all the muscles in my body while trying not to scream. I got to my feet and I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, catching my finger in the door handle. I shrieked, swore under my breath with more anger than is ever necessary and slammed the door behind me.

I get back to the supermarket with a face like thunder and a rumbling in my tummy. I stand like a wild woman in the refrigerated vegetable section, trying to ignore my dishevelled appearance in the mirrored back panels, frantically searching for spinach. There is none. None. The second lot of tears welled up into my eyes. Why was I even alive?? I turned on my heel and stormed out of the shop, empty handed.

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I had ice cream for lunch, 2 bowls of it feeling wretched the whole time. I cried some more and watched a movie with Ryan Gosling in to cheer myself up. Then I remembered that I don’t actually like Ryan Gosling but because I could not be bothered to find another movie to watch I just sat there and scowled at it the whole time, giving myself a headache. The only time I wasn’t scowling at the TV was when I was looking over my shoulder to scowl at the ginormous turquoise/blue stain on the carpet when I had seen that it hadn’t miraculously disappeared.

So here I am sat typing this, trying to make light of my suffering in the hope that someone else who suffers will read this and know exactly where I am coming from and also have a good idea on how to fix my carpet because seriously this isn’t coming out!

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10 thoughts on “The Suffering

  1. Another brilliantly written piece. So many people will have read this and thought ‘I am pleased someone else goes through the same as me’ and they can empathise with you. Keep smiling and keep writing xx

    Liked by 1 person

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