It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

Hello, everyone.  I've promised my friends, family, and readers I would start blogging regularly again in September.  It's September.  Yesterday was also Wednesday, my best day, schedule-wise, for blogging.  Problem was, I didn't feel like writing.  About anything.

I got my first inklings something was up on Sunday morning, when I woke up groggy, head hurting, and ravenous.  Determined to beat the PMDD blues, I ate a bowl of Cheerios (quick acting carbs) and went back to sleep for an hour and a half.  The next time I woke up, I felt better, more on an even keel thanks to the carbs and an extra sleep cycle, and so I vowed to not let my PMDD ruin *my* day.

And it didn't.  Not that day or the next.  Almost nothing could get me down, although at the oddest times, I found myself looking off into the distance and just wanting to cry.

Tuesday I embarked on a project that would challenge anyone's ability to concentrate.  For hours I sifted through airline websites and travel reservation matrixes, trying to find the best dates, flight times, and price for two seats to Europe.  The print function on my computer wouldn't cooperate, so I had to hold all the information in my head from screen to screen to screen.  My desk was littered with sticky notes on which I'd scribbled the names of potential destinations, airlines, and prices.

I also learned something about redeeming rewards points with a certain airline that makes a big fuss about their rewards miles program, but shall go unnamed at this point.  If you have one person paying with mileage rewards points, and another paying full fare...at least when you're headed to Europe...it's almost impossible to get on the same flights.  They offer one set of flight choices for the rewards points flyer, and another set of choices for the paying customer.  I could get us on the same flight leaving, but getting us on the same flight coming home was like finding a needle in a haystack. 
I thought I had done it, but four hours later, when all was said and done, I had chosen outgoing flights that were ten minutes apart.  One said 10:30 a.m., the other said 10:40 a.m.  (This was while my print function was still working.)

So I started all over, this time coming at it from a different angle.  My partner's rewards points with his credit card company.  Success!!  Or so I thought.  Once I hit Select Flight, the price, advertised as 20% less than the going rate, rose exponentially.  Like to the tune of double the going rate.

It was cheaper to go with Orbitz and pay full fare for both tickets, rewards points be damned.  Some reward.  They like you to earn those points, but apparently aren't all that keen on helping you to redeem them.

So...flights chosen, I'm now filling out the information.  Here's something new.  I need to input the names of who will be traveling exactly as they appear on the identification we will be using -- in this case our passports.  I call my partner.  He doesn't know what his passport says.  He says he will check and call me back in less than an hour.

He gets busy and forgets.

My day takes a nosedive.  By the time he arrives to spend the evening together, I'm not speaking to him.

It's that simple.

I busted my brain on the computer for several hours, trying to do what *he* suggested.  In the end I found out it was almost impossible.  Sure, I could have managed one rewards ticket and one paid fare if I wanted to change planes twice and spend 19 or more hours getting home on a flight that takes 8 and a half hours non-stop.

In the end I got both tickets for $300 more than we would have paid had we gone with one free ticket from my tightfisted airline miles company, but we're on that nonstop return flight...together.  When it's time to come home, we're coming straight home.  No missed connections or lost luggage for us, baby.

But I digress.

He forgets to call.  I am furious.  Just that fast.  And there is nothing he can do to make it right.  And I mean no-thing.  I am in the mood for a fight.  And I don't care who I fight with.  My son makes an equally available target.  He disappears into his room as I start sniping at both of them.  Sharp tones and snide comments left and right.  I know I am doing it, and I don't care.  I feel unloved, unappreciated, unheard, unhappy, unhealthy, unfit, un-everything.  You name it.  No one understands me.  No one cares.  No one appreciates the things I do around here.

"I see the weekend is over," my partner says quietly.

We had an amazing weekend.  Truly amazing.  Went to church, went for a sunset walk, went to a festival, met all sorts of interesting people, played miniature golf, went for a drive in the country, cooked a couple of fantastic dinners, slow danced...he even presented me with a 30 minute DVD of  a slide show of my recent trip to Alaska, set to soothing music.  It was my birthday and it was beautiful.

But all of that was gone in my PMDD mind.  All that mattered to me right then and there was he didn't call me back, he didn't appreciate my time, my work, or me.

His quiet words were my cue that I had crossed the line.

I apologized.  Sincerely.  Because I knew I was wrong.  He kissed me good night and we parted on good terms, with him saying he understood.  I went to bed and again, just wanted to cry.

Yesterday morning I didn't want to wake up.  All morning I couldn't concentrate, couldn't stay focused on any one task.  Couldn't even contemplate writing a blog post.  By afternoon, my brain literally hurt, like it was inflamed or something, and I found myself reaching for my PMDD foods....almonds, oranges, cottage cheese, and chocolate.

By evening I knew why.

My period had arrived.