Written on 4th July
Random Thoughts has gone dark. As of writing, my internet is DOWN!
It’s a travesty.
Anyway, I’m back at work this week and Aunt Flo literally came to town as I arrived. She made her presence known. I’m talking full blown cramps that would have me rolling on the floor if I hadn’t been dealing with this nonsense since I was a young’un. It’s funny because every time Aunt Flo comes along it’s like I’m doing this shit for the first time. The level of irritation and horror is always different. It’s never the same. It’s like being visited by a genuine family member who’s always in some kind of trouble.
However, this visit was a lot more stable than the last two.
Or three? As far back as April. Whenever I started going on about Bob (model/actor/writer/narcissist/rampantly shirtless/terrible caption writer/provider of secondhand embarrassment that I follow on Instagram). My whole Bob fixation/obsession/casual observation began at the beginning of that period (no pun intended) so we can blame that on Aunt Flo.
At the time, it was more feeling low and depressed than anything else but I didn’t realise what was in store. Nine weeks of horror. I get that this is TMI, but who else am I going to tell this to? My diary? Actually. That might be better but I’ve started it now.
Anyway, I will admit that I’m not one of those girls who keeps track with Aunt Flo. I’ve never gotten into the habit of writing it down because usually, I knew she was coming when I felt the sharp, stabbing cramps. That system worked very well until last year.
Last year Aunt Flo went crazy. Now, she was already crazy, but I didn’t realise how bad it was until I was living away from home and I didn’t need to do anything for anyone but myself. Oh, boy. I’m talking fatigue, not being able to function, cramps, just all around uselessness. The worst thing was that this usually came after Aunt Flo packed her bags. So, I would have one week to anticipate her arrival, three days of her wonderful company and then one week of feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, one week of recovering and then…Aunt Flo would be back! It was like being strapped to a rollercoaster.
I put that down to stress because three weeks between her visits is not enough time. Like. Seriously. No. Never. I need a 28 day cycle please.
Anyway, going back to this April, the same shit happened again. I had three visits in about two months (just over – nine weeks). It was horrendous. I reached a point where I was just tired. I’d wake up tired. Go to bed tired. Wake up tired. Go to bed tired. Everything tired. Around the same time, I ended up with a ganglion on my wrist and some other issue in my other wrist and I couldn’t lean on them. I could barely type but I did anyway, because what else was I going to do? Sit here and feel sorry for myself? Nah.
The pain is on and off now in my wrist. I’m not sure what really triggers it (I’m lying – everything does). I have worn some form of brace on a near enough daily basis since it became very bad and that seems to be helping.
So, yeah. If I hadn’t taken a week off work, I have no idea how I’d be feeling now. I am not looking forward to next week*. Something has got to give.
For now, I’m looking into taking vitamins and supplements – I definitely think my iron is low after all of that. Hopefully, I can get a regular routine and slowly return back to the land of the living because the last thing any of us needs is Bob 2.0.
That would be the real travesty.
(*The following week was awful as predicted. God help me.)