My PMS is Next Level

Maybe she was born with it, maybe it's Maybul...shit.  So genetics chose to give me a vagina and now I have to deal with the roll of the dice.  I can look forward to crying and my world ending every month, awesome! No matter how much I warn myself, Seanna, "it is going to suck next month, you will be mean to Lyle, you will want to fix your whole life in one day, just know you are under the influence of a hormonal intruder and ignore those feelings as best as you can".  But, my mind has tricked me into thinking it is all legit important and detrimental to my life at that very moment every single month.  Never changes, I fall for it every time.

Today, my world had come crashing down on me when I realized that a work from home transcript didn't accept my test submission.  I honestly thought it was a "test" to assess if you are a good enough candidate for further training on how their formats prefer to be transcribed.  Upon receiving the rejection I now realize it was an actual assessment to see if you are able to start immediately.  Oops. This rejection triggered a shit spiral of self loathing that turned into a cry fest and Lyle of course was caught in the cross-fire.  He wasn't "consoley" enough.  He actually didn't do anything but hum Game Of Thrones so loud that his ignoring the severity of my life threatening situation being taken so lightly made him an "insensitive asshole".  We almost started to argue but luckily, I was so worn out from crying and he was good enough to just not say anything further, that we dodged that bullet.

He kindly offered to go to the store a get me some wine to help calm my nerves.  It worked, within minutes we started laughing and planning this upcoming weekends' festivities which is our 5 year anniversary and he showed me an Instagram profile for a gal he has been following that makes engagement rings.  I got to tell him what I like and didn't like and we agreed on everything so, my world was no longer being sucked into a black hole and was suddenly open again with fantasies of our future together.

Monster in the back of my head, "But he better unload the dishwasher so I can start making dinner".

Ooh hormones, you really know how to spoil a good time, you bitch.

-End


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