Period pains

and a snapshot of what's in my head at any given time.

I tip the dirty dinner plates into the sink, harder than I mean to. Water slops over the side, onto my slippers. Fucking hell, I mutter, through gritted teeth.

You okay? he asks.

I turn, irritated.

Not really, I say.

I’ve got period pains.
Since I had the baby they absolutely kill now, like the first stages of labour.
Didn’t find time to read today (again).
I saw another dead baby on Instagram today.
Every day our daughter grows up and away from us.
Why do I still care so much if people like me at 32?
I worry that nothing will change even if the Tory government yields.
My to-do list is as long as my arm and I feel like it never goes down.
How can I eradicate my ‘like’ tic from my vocabulary, it bothers me?
I don’t have enough time to think deeply about things like I want to.
Don’t you think it’s so weird that kids are starving in this country, in 2024?
I can’t decide if I want to have another baby.
I do regret things, and I think that’s okay - don’t you?
I’m not sure, actually, that everyone is “inherently good” as I keep saying.
Sometimes, I feel like a child myself.
When do you think we’ll get real ‘us time’ back, as a couple?
I think I’m addicted to my phone.
If we could delete stuff from our brains, that would be great right?
No one can be everything to everyone so why do I keep trying (and failing)?
The house never feels clean or tidy enough.
I’m so Online and don’t know how not to be.
I worry that there’s not enough therapy in the world for me.
Women will always choose the bear and I hate that for us.
I absolutely hate ageing and I don’t care if it’s wrong to say so.
It’s like my feet haven’t touched the ground since March 2020.
Donald Trump’s existence affects my mental health.
All that true crime I used to watch now echoes like a bell in my head.
No matter what I do, I’ll never reach my own expectations.

I wipe the spilled water away.

Period pains, I say.

---

---