Things I love

  • ~Louis
  • ~Family&Friends
  • ~IceCream
  • ~MyKindle
  • ~CoffeeBreaks
  • ~Sparkles
  • ~Knitwear
  • ~Vanilla
  • ~AllThingsLUSH~
  • GossipGirlxoxo~
  • Chips&Ketchup~

04 December 2012

The Hormonal Black Hole



 


For quite a few years now, I've noticed that I have days where I'm just not myself - I'm a stick of dynamite waiting to explode. A hurricane waiting to collide with you. A storm gathering its force...you get the picture.

I had some of these days recently, and I randomly commented to a friend that I had been in a black hole but I was now out of it. And I then realised that the term "black hole" was unbelievably apt. And I began thinking about the characteristics of these horrendous vacuums that swallow you whole.

You can usually tell, from the minute you wake up, that it's gonna be "one of those days". Seriously, from the second your sleep laden eyelids are opened. And you hope that nighttime will hurry up along so that you can leave this feeling behind without too much collateral damage.

You pick up the pieces of whatever energy you do find and get out of bed. Your partner may smile at you or even blow you a kiss...and you think "What are you so HAPPY about? Can't you see I'm MISERABLE?!" (but of course they can't! They can't read your mind). Alas, it's too late. You have subconsciously decided that your anger shall be projected at them...FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.

Now, these days are filled with adventures. Every wrinkle is noted and magnified and dramatised and you know you're now on the other side of that hill. You spill your morning coffee on your favourite pjs, or worse, in your cereal. You stare at your wardrobe and wonder why, after hundreds of pounds, you still have nothing to wear.

Should the phone ring, you don't pick it up. You stare at it and shout in your head "leave me alone!!". Messages are left unanswered. Emails pile up. You're convinced that friends that do text you supportive words are doing it out of duty and those with practical advice are being unsupportive so might as well keep their advice to themselves.

You think, maybe retail therapy will help (or cheese). Then you realise that you were supposed to get your finances in order. Actually, your whole life in order. And then it all feels too monumental anyway. The voices in the evil black hole persuade you that you're no good at anything. You check the time and wonder why it's only 3pm when you've been awake for what feels like days and days.

A lunch reminds you of your lack of commitment to a healthy lifestyle. Everything on TV is dull, or turns you into a sobbing mess. You can't focus on a book. Moping seems like the answer, and you hope someone will notice that YOU'RE the victim. But, honestly, if they offer solace, you'd just yell at them for not "getting it".

A concerned question of "are you ok?" is met with evil stares, unconvincing shrugs or the dreaded "I'm fine" response (why oh why does it seem like a good response?!). Thing is, sometimes you know nothing is *really* wrong and this sensation will pass. Unfortunately, that just exacerbates the situation in your head, compounded with the already swirling question of "what is wrong with me?!".

Now, these feelings may be similar to how sufferers of depression feel. But, the catch is, this black cloud lifts after 24-48 hours. And you wonder why on Earth you were mean to your poor partner. And why you still haven't recognised these hormonal patterns?

You wake up the next morning, sing a tune and make some toast. 

Sx





2 comments:

  1. "You may think retail therapy will help (or cheese)."

    My favourite line in this blog post! I'm definitely leaning more towards cheese to make things better lately.

    Love the illustrations. Good old hormones. Thank goodness it only lasts a few days. But still, not nice at all!

    xx

    ReplyDelete
  2. hahaha! This is quite funny and SO TRUE! After all that, you're like, "Why was I upset again?" Until the next time, when of course you're angry and ridiculous all over again. I love it. Thanks for sharing!

    ReplyDelete

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