PMS SUCKS ASS . . . crying isn't fun
Ok, as a clinically depressed person, PMS is added misery and pain on top of the reagular bull shit crap I usually feel like. The meds help with the day-to-day shit, but PMS just plain SUCKS!!!!!!!
So here I am, all happy and stuff b/c a certain someone (one of two who will probably actually read this[and you know who you are]) makes me happy and smile everytime I think about him. And then, out of no where, comes this depression! I'm happy, yet depressed? I can tell b/c I refused to get out of bed today and neither went to class nor turned in the paper due in that class. It's the first for both (skip and paper) all semester. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how I know this is depression. But aside from that, I'm still happy!? Weird. An issue that will be discussed at length with Dr. McKafee on the 13th. Then, I realize what day it is and duh, I'm more than likely PMSing. It doesn't help any to identify the problem.
Soooo, here I am, all happy and depressed, when I talk to my mom and realize (as I verbally tell her on the phone) that I'm having this serious crisis of faith. Do I still believe? in anything? at all? anymore? hmm, not fun questions to be pondering on a Thursday night after eleven. So I hang up with Mom and start to walk back to my dorm (I'd been visiting a friend, snd left her to talk to my mom in the laundry room so I wouldn't losereception in the elevator) while I'm holding back the tears thinking "where can I go to pray? my roomy's asleep, the chapels, except main hall i think, are all locked, where the fuck can i go to pray and find some measure of peace?" Then, as I go up the stairs, I see the little cove where a statue of Mary is. I go in, drop to my knees, and start balling. I mean sobs wracking my body. Luckily I had tissues in my purse and my purse with me. When I stop crying enough to think, I start praying. I was still sobbing, but praying at the same time. I asked Mary and my grandma's soul to watch out for me and pray for me, and Grandma to hold my hand and help me in any way she can, and I found peace through my prayers. I should do that weekly . . . just go out to that cove and pray and be with me and God. I need to go to confession tomorrow after I write and turn in my paper that was due today . . . I'll only get half credit, but it's ok b/c some points are better than no points.
Don't worry for me, God's watching over me and He loves me and I hope He can spare Grandma and that she's keeping special watch over me. I'm going to be alright, this is mostly just PMS and a little homesickness thrown in for good measure. I'll prob be upping my dose on the 13th. Confession tomorrow will help . . . it always does. Priests are wonderful spiritual guides. If you want to help me, pray for me. I love you all and wixh you nothing but happiness and tomorrow will be a better day.
So here I am, all happy and stuff b/c a certain someone (one of two who will probably actually read this[and you know who you are]) makes me happy and smile everytime I think about him. And then, out of no where, comes this depression! I'm happy, yet depressed? I can tell b/c I refused to get out of bed today and neither went to class nor turned in the paper due in that class. It's the first for both (skip and paper) all semester. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how I know this is depression. But aside from that, I'm still happy!? Weird. An issue that will be discussed at length with Dr. McKafee on the 13th. Then, I realize what day it is and duh, I'm more than likely PMSing. It doesn't help any to identify the problem.
Soooo, here I am, all happy and depressed, when I talk to my mom and realize (as I verbally tell her on the phone) that I'm having this serious crisis of faith. Do I still believe? in anything? at all? anymore? hmm, not fun questions to be pondering on a Thursday night after eleven. So I hang up with Mom and start to walk back to my dorm (I'd been visiting a friend, snd left her to talk to my mom in the laundry room so I wouldn't losereception in the elevator) while I'm holding back the tears thinking "where can I go to pray? my roomy's asleep, the chapels, except main hall i think, are all locked, where the fuck can i go to pray and find some measure of peace?" Then, as I go up the stairs, I see the little cove where a statue of Mary is. I go in, drop to my knees, and start balling. I mean sobs wracking my body. Luckily I had tissues in my purse and my purse with me. When I stop crying enough to think, I start praying. I was still sobbing, but praying at the same time. I asked Mary and my grandma's soul to watch out for me and pray for me, and Grandma to hold my hand and help me in any way she can, and I found peace through my prayers. I should do that weekly . . . just go out to that cove and pray and be with me and God. I need to go to confession tomorrow after I write and turn in my paper that was due today . . . I'll only get half credit, but it's ok b/c some points are better than no points.
Don't worry for me, God's watching over me and He loves me and I hope He can spare Grandma and that she's keeping special watch over me. I'm going to be alright, this is mostly just PMS and a little homesickness thrown in for good measure. I'll prob be upping my dose on the 13th. Confession tomorrow will help . . . it always does. Priests are wonderful spiritual guides. If you want to help me, pray for me. I love you all and wixh you nothing but happiness and tomorrow will be a better day.