Tomorrow, lots of decisions need to be made.
1 - Do we move out of our apartment? (The lease is up and we're still debating whether it's worth keeping it for another month. This worries me because here, the internet is fast and free. Bonus and bonus!)
2- - Should I do a week's training course for a job which I probably won't be able to take? Sister's pregnancy and other family issues are making the decision to stay increasingly difficult.
3 - Should I sack it all off and go travelling around the country with the bf OR stay in Rio and slog it out for more students ergo more work ergo that sense of doing something that I've so badly been missing.
These seem like 3 relatively small issues, yet for the last 5 days have been tormenting me in my sleeping and waking hours alike. None of this is helped by a boyfriend who also happens to be a Question Machine, constantly fishing for answers I don't have. Again, this is not a *real* problem. I have a boyfriend who cares enough to want to know what I'm doing/thinking/feeling. Surely that's a good thing, right?
I honestly thought that by being here, in this city, in this country that I love so much, I would be happy. The occasional overwhelming feelings of "what the hell am I doing? I just can't do anything right. I want someone to just do it all for me" would leave me alone. Alas, I was wrong. At home in England, I put my occasional inability to make a decision down to the crappy weather/shitty job/lack of money getting me down. Before that, I was working too hard/not dancing enough/didn't have a boyfriend - why don't I have a boyfriend?! These thoughts would occupy my brain space leaving no room for rational thought. To this end, I was essentially a shell of a person just walking around emptily doing what was expected and occasionally crying at the impossibility of it all.
It wasn't until recent years that I started to make the connections between my bouts of hopelessness to the onset of my...having the painters in. The week before Auntie Flo came into town would habitually be the darkest time of my life. Each time was worse than the last. I'd consider ending perfectly lovely relationships. I'd not leave the house for anything for days on end. I would consider walking in front of cars just so I'd have to go to a hospital where all the decisions could be made for me.
Depression? No. I looked up the symptoms of depression. It sounds horrible! The worst part of it was, it made me feel worse knowing that I couldn't even be depressed properly. Imagine, thousands of people drag themselves through the dark tunnel of depression and I'm so blinded by self pity I can't even appreciate how lucky I am to still be able to get out of bed (just).
So I looked further into what was making me into such a weeping shadow of myself.
PMDD.
(What?)
PMDD - Pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder. THis is basically what my problem is and has been for a really long time. I'm so glad I finally know the name of it. It's a real tangible things with suggestions on how to treat it and an explanation as to why someone widely considered as an excitable optimist can have such dark empty days where she pushes those who love her and who she loves so far away they can barely see the tears in her eyes.
So I'm sorry Rio. I thought it was you. But it's not you. It's me.
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