Glast-oh-no

[j4]

Yeah, I know I posted about the ticket, but to be honest, right now I really just don't want to go to Glastonbury at all. It's forecast to rain all next week; okay, there's a slim possibility of occasional patches of sun towards the end of the festival, but by that time the site will be buried under six feet of mud anyway. Last time the floods were apocalyptic but once it'd finished the six-hours-of-non-stop-rain it was sunny for most of the rest of the weekend, and wading through mud in sunshine is considerably less awful than wading through mud in the pouring rain and cold. And the mud means that it takes about an hour to get from A to B for any values of A and B, and by the time you get anywhere you just feel like throwing yourself into a lake (so it's fortunate that by that point your only options are "throw yourself into a lake forwards" or "throw yourself into a lake backwards").

Not only that, but at this rate I'm quite likely to have my period all the way through the festival. So, up to my waist in mud, constantly aching and bloated and miserable, needing to go to the loo every 30 minutes but having to queue for three hours in the rain in order to get into a toilet which is covered in poo. (Please don't tell me how fucking marvellous the mooncup is: the mere thought of it makes me feel queasy and dizzy; furthermore, there is no way I am trying to cope with something like that for the first time in a tent, in a toilet with no door, in a poo-smeared chemical toilet, or in the middle of a bloody field in the rain. Also, please don't tell me that periods are a blessed gift from the goddess: being poked in the eyes with forks often offends.) ETA: AND I AM NOT GOING BACK ON THE PILL, not even for a minute, because it's really not going to help the situation if I'm suicidal and psychotic and generally so crazy that even my partner tells me I'm a dangerous mental case who should be locked up or put out of its misery.

ALSO, I am tired all the time, I feel fat and ugly, I still can't do most of the things I'm supposed to be doing in my job, I feel guilty every day when I look around my friends and realise that any one of them could do my job a hundred times better than me and really the job should have gone to one of them or somebody equally talented; even if I can learn it all in a few years, any one of them could already do it all now. And all the people who say "but you are good at everything!" don't actually know. This much is evident from the things they accuse me of being good at. I'm sick and tired of having the sort of conversation where people say to me "But you're really good at rocket science! But you invented the internet! But you made such a good prime minister!" and I have to refute all their frankly ludicrous claims, which just makes me feel worse about myself. The other version of that sort of conversation is the one where they say "But you can do all sorts of things! I mean ... well, you make a nice cup of tea! And you wrote a good essay once, when you were 10! It had all the right punctuation and everything!" I'm honestly not sure which is worse.

Please do NOT follow up with "well I think your really nice anyway lol :) :)" or equivalent, because that will just make me scream.

And I feel like a Bad Girlfriend as well as a Useless Person. addedentry is going from strength to strength in his job and in everything else as well; every day he gets better at everything he does, at this rate he will probably be Bodley's Librarian by the age of 35, I should be bursting with pride every time I look at him, but I find it so hard to keep on feeling happy for him as he gets cleverer and more talented and more attractive and it even seems like he's getting taller, while I just get older and fatter and uglier and more and more stupid.

The worst of it is being self-aware enough to know that a gazillion tediously self-obsessed spotty teenage goths are saying all the same things on their livejournals. Knowing that doesn't take away the leaden feeling though. And at their age there's at least a chance that they'll grow out of it. I believe that one's never too old to change and grow and learn, but in my case the evidence so far suggests otherwise.

Comments

[j4.livejournal.com]

I think my hormones are always out of whack. :-/ But I can tell my period's on its way, because I'm horribly depressed and I have trapped wind and dodgy bowels. I'm not at all regular but I get the same rotten symptoms at the same distance from my period starting (IYSWIM) every time without fail.

I want to take my hormones back to the shop and swap them for, I dunno, a pot of jam or something.

[geekette8.livejournal.com]

Mmm, jam...

You don't sound as though you're much in the mood for suggestions, so feel free to ignore this if that is indeed the case, and it wouldn't help pre-Glasto anyway, but have you ever considered a Mirena? I had horrible side effects from the pill too but the Mirena is wonderful-cubed. No periods and vastly vastly reduced PMT-symptoms.

Anyway, sympathy for all those symptoms - no fun at all.

[j4.livejournal.com]

It's not so much that I'm not in the mood for suggestions as that, without wanting to be rude, I have actually already thought of a lot of them. Yes, I've also already discounted a lot of them, not because I'm "not open to suggestions" (the usual accusation is "you obviously don't want to be helped", so thank you for at least coming up with a different phrasing for it) but because they don't work for me.

As for the coil ... *shudders* ... urgh. I think I'd have to have a general anaesthetic for them to get it in. And then again when I wanted them to take it out in a couple of years' time. And I'd have to have a bit of my brain removed so that I never ever thought about it being there. Even more queasy-making than tampons, and that's bad enough that I can't use them.

(Pre-empting all the usual stuff: no, I'm not neurotic about sex; no, I'm not ashamed of my genitals; no, I don't think being female is dirty; yes, I am very grateful to all the early feminist martyrs who died so that I might use contraception, yada yada yada; however, still, no.)

Knowing a couple of people who've had really traumatically bad experiences with the coil hasn't helped, either. Even if they're a total statistical anomaly, it's far too much risk for no guaranteed gain.

[geekette8.livejournal.com]

Ah, fair enough. I did genuinely think there was a chance you might not have thought about the coil, simply because there's a fairly common misconception (er, arf arf) that it's not suitable for woman who haven't given birth vaginally, but these days that's not true. If the very thought makes you queasy, though, then definitely disregard my comment.

I do hope you are able to find a solution that works, one way or another. Blood and pain = no fun, and added mud just doesn't make it sound any better.