PMS: Pretty Much Sociopathic

Well, apparently my menstrual cycle is regular as clockwork because it has been 4 weeks since my last hormonal freak-out, and today I was riding the Mood Swing Express straight to Crazyville. Snark's Mistress made the mistake earlier of asking how I was doing. Five or six hysterical rants later, she was wondering if PMS provided enough grounds to have me involuntarily committed.

It's almost like having an out-of-body experience. I can see myself acting like a crazed lunatic, but I can't do anything about it. And yet, when I return to my body, it's almost as though I forget how completely off the beam I was, because the thought of actually going out and procuring some sort of medical relief for this psychosis seems like an overreaction. "It's not that bad," I think. And yet, it so is.

At this point, I wonder if I could find a daycare that could take care of Turtle for one day a month, so when the hormones send me around the bend, I can just go underground and eschew human contact for the day. Of course, given that the most common byproduct of these hormonal freakouts is disproportionate rage, I'd probably just get pissed at the amount of money I'd have to spend for that one day a month and end up not taking him anyway. (Of course, if I were any kind of rational, I'd realize that the money spent now for day care is going to be significantly less than the money we'll spend later on intensive therapy, but rational is not what we're about at this time of the month.)

In any event, if the pattern holds, tomorrow I'll be back to my normal self. Whether that's good or bad is for others to decide, but at least I won't be biting their heads off before they make their judgments. In the meantime, if any of you are forced to deal with me, I apologize in advance. I promise you the other 29 days of the month, I'm perfectly pleasant. I AM! I puke up bunnies and puppies and little pink hearts, REMEMBER? GAH! Would you keep UP already? Do I have to do EVERYTHING for you? You suck!

Hmmm...something tells me I went off the beam again. I think it's time I headed back down into my hermit hole, don't you? I'll reemerge when I can be trusted to have a reasonable conversation without sobbing uncontrollably or ripping your vocal cords out your nose. Thanks for your understanding.