For more than a week I’ve been a blithering mess of tears, a knotted fist of anger, an empty bucket of failure. During this time I drafted one or two essays describing just how far beneath the dust of the earth my worth is – the kind of stuff that prompts emails from strangers begging me to go back on anti-depressants.
But I refrained from posting these essays, feeling a hunch that my plunge was either due to processing through spiritual rebellion or my out of control premenstrual hormones.
And? I this morning I started my period (sorry, guys, for the lack of warning on that one). It’s always a relief to know you are not crazy, at least not THAT kind of crazy, or at least not as MUCH of crazy as you originally thought.