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The emotional shit-storm of high school.
It was the best I could do.
You wanted to see a real storm of shit? No? Then shush. |
Dear readers,
I have a favour to ask.
I keep waking up at sparrow’s fart.
What even is that? Do sparrows fart? I’ve never heard one,
have you? Would it be very loud? Sparrows’ arses must be very small, wouldn’t
you think?
And while we’re at it with stupid sayings, why do we call
someone a “something extraordinaire”?
A “blogger extraordinaire”.
A “saxophonist extraordinaire”.
Like, someone can be a “blogger ordinaire”, or a “saxophonist
ordinaire”?
Where was I?
Ah yes. Sparrow’s fart. At this time of the month I’m always
awake early. Which is just fabulous.*
Human creatures crave connections. As a species we’re social,
like our primate neighbours. We naturally tend towards grouping together,
fitting in and feeling that others understand us. That craving for
connectedness – the need to feel an emotional connection to another – is wonderful
and terrible.
I was bullied at school (and later at university), picked
on, harassed and generally made fun of, because I didn’t fit in.
I was a freak, different, weird.
I WANTED to fit in. Desperately.
So what happens when you’re denied connectedness when you
need it most? You either grow a big fat denial gland and decide it’s not what
you want, or you soldier on and try not to hurt too much.
My denial gland refuses to function so I soldiered on and
learned that most things turn out for the best eventually. Looking back, I
would have dealt with those bullies differently.
I’ve had bouts of Depression and Anxiety Disorder over the
years. That’s hardly a brave revelation in these times of chronic over-sharing
(hello I am the shameless QUEEN of this).
Currently I’m officially well, which is quite wonderful.
This current bout of wellness has unearthed a new challenge.
For a week and a half every month, I become that anxious, horrible, aggressive
person I am when I’m sick. I get PMT so badly now that for almost half the
month I’m someone else. I’m Hormone Helen.
I lose that feeling of connectedness, of belonging. The
walls close in. To me, it seems that everyone is having wonderful conversations
without me. Everyone has bazillions of wonderful, close friends that I don’t
have. I feel excluded and worthless, my connection to everyone summarily cut
off.
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| All my connections severed. |
With ironic cruelty, the need for connectedness becomes immeasurably
stronger, just at the time when it’s been severed.
I’m thrown back into the emotional shit-storm of high school
crapulousness. I’m that weird kid again that almost everyone hates. I blather
all over social media, trying to reconnect. I usually fail because HELLO when I’m
like that I’m not good company. I’m flat out crazy (and not in my usual froggy
way). The snake starts eating its own tail.
When Hormone Helen isn’t visiting, everything’s fine. So I
know she lies, just like Depression lies, like Anxiety Disorder lies.
So I try to wait out this week and a half each month, hoping
that I don’t become so horrible that everyone, including my family, finally
decides enough is enough.
You may spot Hormone Helen on my Twitter feed now and then.
Please say hi to her, give her a hug and then tell her to get the fuck off social
media before she hurts herself.
Love,
The Frog - Chronic Over-Sharer Ordinaire
* This is a lie.
