Why I hate you

I never use the word hate but for you I make an exception.

We get to cross paths once every month on average.   It’s nice when we don’t but most of the time
that doesn’t happen.  You show up, ready to torment and send me into a craze.  

I can never tell the mood I will be in or the person I will become when you are around.  You are
completely unpredictable and it rubs off on me.  I become erratic, irrational and toxic one moment then enthusiastic, excitable and sentimental the next.  I suddenly become overtaken by sadness, angst and frustration before quickly moving on to become calm, thoughtful and motivated.  

You are the reason I often do things I am not proud of, like making comments to someone I love that causes offence, yelling at the dogs when they do nothing to deserve it and constantly victimising myself to unwarranted negative self-talk. 

I am an emotional yoyo incapable of being caught by my own hand, let alone the hands of anyone else for days on end.  But you know this don’t you?  Making me feel as though I have lost my mind is your sole driver and purpose.  It’s sick really.

It’s not only the emotional side affects you have on me, but also the physical.  It can be debilitating.   I lack energy, don’t fit my clothes due to bloating, my skin breaks out and I get cramps so bad that sometimes I feel as though my stomach is being used as a punching bag.  I become a ravenous pig, devouring everything which exacerbates the mentalities and physicalities aforementioned.

Some months you are less of a pain, but I know to never get complacent.  I can count on you to come back for more and you make damn sure I make up for what I missed out on and more. 

To top it all off, I have to pay to clean up the mess you make. Morally and ethically it isn’t right. It’s not my choice I am your victim but that is a story for another day.

You are a real piece of work and you can trust me when I say that I am not the only one who shares this view.  I have it on good authority.

I hate you hormones.