Psycho PMS Bitch meets Grief Beast

The uncontrollable crying started yesterday. The tip off I had that this was PMS related was that I had the same thing happen last month; the sobbing while not really sure where it was coming from - from nowhere and everything at once. The other tip off was that I started spotting this morning. Why is it that PMS magnifies any sad feelings you are having a hundred times?

I was doing laundry today, and it reminded me of Fluffernutter. What cat doesn't like sleeping in the dirty laundry? That made me cry. I cried again for those who never were and were lost. With every new loss, the past losses feel as if they are happening fresh all over again.

I asked Magic to make dinner tonight. I smell something burning from downstairs and come up to see the kitchen filled with smoke. He left to go to his office and thought I would somehow magically intuit that I need to watch the soup. I was in such a rage. It was a good thing neither he nor Fluff were here. Screaming like that really does not make me feel better. It makes me feel psychotic and gives me a sore throat.

I can bear this knowing that it is transitory and will only last a day, the PMS that is. I wish there was an antidepressant I could take for a day or two only for PMS. Should I have known that if I suffer severe and sometimes suicidal mood swings during PMS that I would have pre-natal suicidal depression? Not even the neurotransmitter precursors I am taking as a supplement help with this type of hormone crash. I suppose I should be happy that I have any hormones to crash. I'm hoping that is the silver lining in all of this.

I had a couple of disturbing dreams the other night. I dreamt that Fluff was alive and healthy. I said to Magic in the dream, "how is this possible? She was dead?!" He said, "I need to give you and explanation." My mind was frantic, thinking, "did I take her to be cremated and she was actually still alive??!" I never got an answer, as that was where the dream ended. The next dream was about a cat who had markings like Fluff, but was not as fluffy. She came to me, as many of my cats do, and had a long stitched up scar along her body. She was someone else's cat, because she had a collar with tags on, but I didn't want to know who she belonged to. I wanted to keep her. Grief has a funny way of working its way out in your dreams.

I've had moments of feeling exhausted over the past couple of days. It's that monster, grief again. When I let the exhaustion really overcome me, the tears soon follow. I know grief is crushing me and I need to let it out. I guess I haven't really let it sink in how much of a hole in my heart has been exposed by Fluffernutter's passing. My super-ego says, "she was just a cat, get over it." I come home and look for her, but she's not here. She's not in the laundry. She's not anywhere. I can't even hold onto her in my dreams.

This is like some modern day horror movie, Psycho PMS Bitch meet Grief Beast. I wish it were entertaining like the cheesey Godzilla meets King Kong. I wish it was a movie, but it's all too real. All I can do is hold on and hope tomorrow is a better day. I'm still waiting to be happy again, someday.