blogger profile

Teababy

Educator & Aspiring Writer

I am a girly girl; I’m simply complex and passionate about the people and things that I love. I’m an educator, an aunt, and among many other things—a lover of life. I came from California to go to school in Atlanta 2 weeks after my 18th birthday and never looked back. California is my first...

READ MORE

PMS, PMDD, or Just Plum Crazy?

It took me a good while to decide whether or not to blog on this particular subject for fear of coming off as a hysterical damsel in distress. However, due to recent findings I figured I mine as well make peace with the whole thing and find some humor in my predicament.  After surveying nearly all of my girlfriends and women in my family, I have come to the conclusion that my general feelings of desolation and despair that seem to plague me for at least a week or so every month has got to be the result of what I like to think of as extra-hormonal activity.

There is no other explanation why sensible, reasonable, confident, young women such as me and every other cool chick that I consider to be a friend, around the same time each month are sent into dismal pits of despair. I’ve never been a believer of the hype that women are hormonally imbalanced freaks of nature when it comes to our monthly cycles. In my mind those ramblings were nothing more than exaggerated tales and fables created by men to put women into a loony box because they couldn’t explain or otherwise understand our natural complexity.

After all, I had never experienced any crazy or erratic behavior in the days prior to my scheduled appointment with nature. However, dealing with my recent experiences and brushes with insanity over the past year have taught me different. Understand me when I say I have felt, at times, I am on the verge of a traumatic nervous breakdown! At a moment’s notice I could burst into sobs while driving down the street; anxiously I often toss and turn all night until I finally exhaust myself from crying until I finally pass out. There seldom seems to be any rhyme or reason for the sheer rage that seethes from my pores, threatening to explode into a temper tantrum reminiscent of that of a two year old.

Last year when these epic soap-opera episodes first began I actually requested for my doctor to check my hormone levels, thyroid, and anything else they could think of that would explain my irrational behavior. Although, my initial screenings all appeared to be normal, I still wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t until several weeks ago, after months of counseling, I had a breakthrough all by myself while perusing the aisles of Target. After about a week and a half of being on the warpath, that afternoon, three days into my cycle; it occurred to me that I felt completely normal, balanced, back to myself. I said, now I KNOW this madness I’ve been feeling has got to be hormonal! It was like a halo shone brightly over my head suddenly proclaiming that I had returned to my senses and come back from the dark side.

I was overcome with joy and gratefulness to have finally figured out the enigma of my struggles. All of these years I cursed the lies told about the dynamics of womanhood. I denied the existence of any abnormality that could turn a regular person into what I perceived to be a violent, ball of emotions. After all, that went against everything I ever believed or thought about myself and most women I know. I had never noticed any indication of senseless instability. I know for a fact that I’m no punk-ass, boo-whooing-over-nothing, sh** starter. LMAO! Lies, lies, lies—filthy stinkin’ lies I said!

As Mother Nature would have it, however, they all turned out to be true. What a cruel joke! Never in a million years would I have thought I’d turn into one of those loopty-loos who I vehemently denied existed. Now that I know the truth, I’m mad that people have the audacity to joke and jest about a woman’s disposition with comments such as, “Oh, it must be that time of the month.” Or, “You must be riding the crimson wave/tide” or however the hell the expression goes. I say, how about some crimson for that mouth of yours after I mush you in the face, you jerks!?!

It really burns my toast that just because I’m a woman and subject to certain physiological changes that it’s automatically my “time of the month” because I had to put your silly ass in your place. Noooo, more than likely, you probably said or did something completely idiotic that warranted the verbal smack-down. And if by chance it IS “my time” I pity the fool who catches me on one of those wrong and not-so-light-days. Be assured that whatever it is that you are thinking about my hormones is better left unsaid and you’d be wise to just BACK-OFF! After all, I am subject to be off-balance, irrationally angry, and seeing red—therefore, I cannot be held liable for chopping your head off. Take heed, you’ve been warned.