I should make a disclaimer that I was at the height of hormones when I wrote this. I apologise for any and all sexism. This apology will expire at onset of the next period.
Also, I’m not really sorry, vagina life is a tough life. Think yourself lucky you don’t own this contraption.
Period Pack: An offering to the female of the species at her most volatile time. Period packs are, usually, gifted by the male to subdue the females aggressive, emotional and unstable behaviour at the onset of menses. Well received packs typically contain chocolate, puddings, cake, wine and/or relaxation aids such as bath bombs.
Continue reading “I offer thee a Period Pack. May it improve your hormonal state and my life expectancy.”
Sometimes I would like to say I’m sorry. To my partner. To my friends. But depression has a way of stifling, silencing my words, unable to be pronounced, never mind explained. Sometimes my actions, speak louder than words, but that voice is false and If I could use my words, I would explain to you why.
Sometimes you see me snap at nothing. If I could use my words I would tell you I snap in frustration, exhaustion and self-protection. I snap because I’m reaching my limit and I cannot have more pressure added. I’d tell you there is turmoil in my mind, over doing what I want and what I feel like I should be doing. I’d tell you my depression winds me so tight, and so highly strung that asking for something outside my normal schedule creates an unjustified amount of stress. I’d tell you that I just want space, but feel wrong or guilty in doing so. I’d tell you being around people can leave me drained. Continue reading “The one where depression tries to silence you”