I wish I understood PMS. As in, I wish I understood the science of it.

Yes I know, it is something to do with hormones blah blah blah, but how does it manage to send women crazy?

My Dad used to say that he was a bast@#d once a month, every month due to my mum’s period.

I’ve never been oblivious to my pms, but I am much more aware of it now. A day of irritability – I’m insensitive, impatient and far too blunt. A day or two of heightened emotions – I could cry at pretty much everything and anything.

Wildcard started to notice the signs of my monthly cycle long before I did. He knew when I was ‘hot’ and therefore ovulating (that was a new one on me) and started to predict my period. When I counted to check he was right.

For the past few months I have started to use a tracking app to monitor my moods and symptoms. My periods have always been irregular due to my PCOS but they have been more regular this past few years.

And the reason for my tracking at the age of 40? To see if I can avoid or at least acknowledge my PMS when it arrives. Save some tears. Prevent some arguments.

This month I wasn’t so lucky, although I did tell him that I was due to start my period as I cried again.

I had spent the day deep in thoughts of the unpleasant variety. This is never going to work. What am I doing? I’m too old for him. He probably has someone else on the go anyway. I am going to get hurt. He will get bored of me.

The level of PMS paranoia and suspicion needs to be documented here. He ends a call suddenly, I am convinced it is because another girl is calling. I call him and he is on the phone so it must be to another girl. He hasn’t called me beautiful in a few days- he doesn’t like me anymore. He is quiet so he must be bored of me and wondering how to end it. He hasn’t said he loves me in the past few hours so he mustn’t love me at all. He is stressed so it must be about me.

He doesn’t like the cold so he will never move to my country. In his culture they are usually married relatively quickly but he hasn’t asked me so he can’t want me. I’m just a good friend to him – a distraction in these troubled times. By the time I can actually visit him he will have forgotten how good we are together and won’t want me to come. He is sick of my crying. He thinks I am crazy. He is put off when he hears my kids fighting.

He is going to walk away, straight in to the arms of another girl and I will cry and be alone for the rest of my life.

Do you get the picture?

This isn’t the first time I have written about this and I’m sorry to my regular readers if I am boring you. But how the hell can I get away from these thoughts? I’d hoped by pinning them to my period I could at least acknowledge and ignore them.

There have been times when he has ended a call quicker than I expected so I have called back after a few moments to see if he is on the phone. He never is and then I have to come up with some stupid excuse.

A few times when he has been on the phone when I called and I have convinced myself it is to another woman, I’ve later realised that his mum has been with him so it is impossible.

He is as blunt as hell. If it is me, he will tell me it is me. So most of the time when I am worrying it is me, it isn’t and deep down I know that.

If he was so desperate to be with another woman, he would be. It would be the easiest thing in the world to get rid of me. We will never bump into each other again. He would find someone quickly.

But no, he is still with me, every day. I am desperate to see him and be with him. That + PMS + insecurity = me in a mess. And it never seems to end.

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