Uncle!

God damn, y'all. I have been being actively, super fucking mean to myself for (at least) the past two weeks. It kicked off when I put a dent into this woman's car, as I was getting out of the taxi that was taking us home from the airport. We'd just gotten home - well, we'd almost gotten home - from our trip to London that was equal parts exciting, expensive and stressful. Exciting because we were visiting lovely friends, expensive because what in the fuck is happening in major cities across the planet and stressful because holiday weekend and oh my GOD there were tourists literally everywhere. Also, turnstiles in the tube system, London? Really? Have you not met yourself?
We were only there for a few days and, given the enormity of the city, this is nowhere near enough time to even see all the sights (I feel compelled to mention that, in German, sights are referred to as "Things-Worth-Seeing"), much less get a feel for the city or eat enough pasties and puddings. Let me also take this time to defend English food: it may not be healthy, but dammit, it's tasty. MUSHY PEAS, I tell you! So simple, yet so scrumptious. One last thing - I may have been carrying a bit (a lot) of resentment towards the English, which I must recant, to some extent. The English people I interacted with while there were nothing but polite, helpful and very friendly. I'M SORRY FATHER ENGLAND, ok? My bad. *drops tangent mic*
The be-terribly-mean-to-yourself spree kicked into high gear once I got my days. One night, I noticed myself slipping into the abyss of hopelessness, when I remembered that I was about to enter shark week and realized that I must have been PMSing. The only reason I knew that this was a possible explanation for the dour mood is that I have an app that tracks my period. How often has it happened that I've slipped into depression without realizing that it was a part of my lunar cycle? Regardless, I was upset about the taxi incident, and have been a bundle of overly sensitive, raw nerves ever since starting strawberry week. What the crap is this? Is this really what I have to expect every month until I go through the change? Isn't menopause supposed to be worse, though? Don't you get even more depressed, plus you get the flop-sweats? WHAT THE FUCK. Am I just now coming to terms with what it means to be a woman?
The red tide is subsiding and I'm calling uncle - I don't have the energy to be a harpy to myself any more this week and some part of me knows that I don't deserve it anyway.

That's all I got, internet.