Today, I can’t breathe. I woke up this morning in denial. I rolled over and stared at the wall for what turned out to be two hours. The whole day has felt crushing, empty and emotional.

I know that this is just monstrous PMS. Since my ex left my pre-menstrual week has resumed its aggressive pre-menstrual dysphoria. The last four or five cycles, however many there have been in his absence, have been horrific. So horrible I decided to start drinking Prozac water again to try and smooth the passage. I don’t think it’s worked.

Because the gaping wounds in me are exposed and filled with grief and loss again. I desperately need to connect to people, with someone. But no one is the “right” person. In short, no one is him. Even after four months, and now a month of silence. No one is him.

My mind is thoroughly occupied with begging him to contact me. To do something more than like my Facebook posts. I’m trying to ignore his watching eyes, I should delete him. But I still want him to come back, you see. Even as I counter every positive reminiscence with every time he rejected me, every time he was mean and every time he made me feel like less of a person. It just doesn’t make sense that he’s not staring back at me in the mornings anymore.

All these twisted feelings are welling up inside me, filling and spilling over my wounds. There’s nowhere else for them to go. Because no one wants to hear about it anymore, not even I do. So they bubble and repeat themselves, fighting each other for time as I try desperately to find space and lightness in my mind. It’s been four months, how long can I hurt so aggressively?

My dysphoric PMS has left me incredibly vulnerable. It’s exacerbated quieted borderline traits. I’m taking on the negativity of those around me. The poisonous familial atmosphere at home. The financial strain. The continuing impact of my ever wrong choices. I feel all of it. And deeply.

And the person who knew when to hold me close and when to just sit beside me. Who knew when I needed to go out and when to be distracted with TV. Who was my favourite person, my best friend. Who is still the one I want to turn to right now, is gone.

The comfort here is that PMS ends, and so to may my intensified grief.

 

 

 

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