The Monster.


This morning is one of those that I woke up to find that my jiu-jitsu beaten body is sore from head to toe. Literally. Even my ear is sore. My ear!

I had such a great time last night. Which is pretty shocking considering my monthly subscription to Satan’s waterfall is on it’s way and I’m kind of known for transforming into a super bitch in the week leading up to it. An overly sensitive, cry at stupid shit, short tempered, emotionally confused, don’t fucking touch me, hormonal roller coaster riding, self-hating, socially uncomfortable (even more so than normal,) don’t want to be around people, mega-super bitch. If you aren’t following what I’m talking about, (men I’m speaking to you,) I put the monster in PMS. I should be wearing a sign that says “Proceed with caution. Will stab you, will eat your brownies, and will cry uncontrollably over stupid shit.


Don’t worry, I’m not going to go into great detail about the subject that seems to terrify men more than cucumbers scare cats.




These videos never get old!

I mean you mention anything about “feminine hygiene” products and men get all flustered, red faced, and grossed out.

Relax. I’m not going there.

I am, however, going to tell you that PMS and jiu-jitsu is tough. I don’t know if it is for all women, but it sure is a battle for me. I turn into a person that is slightly terrifying, emotionally unpredictable, and totally crazy. I’m already in my head and hard on myself enough when it comes to jiu-jitsu and social situations and PMS intensifies it to a head games on crack level of crazy.

Like I need assistance in that department.


The overly sensitive part makes me cry easily when I get frustrated and am struggling with something. Hormones are just cruel. At times I’m thinking, “Good grief, woman, get a hold of yourself!” but my overly aggressive hormones ignore all rational thought and reaction and instead go straight to crazy-town.


I tend to give up on something quicker if it’s more challenging. I’ll tell myself, “I can’t do it. I’ll never be able to do it. Why am I here? I should just go home.” I really have to make myself aware of what I’m going through and that it is the PMS talking or else I probably wouldn’t even leave my house.

I’m quicker to over analyze and worry about what people think of me. I tend to find myself immediately going to a “This person hates me,” or “That person thinks I’m stupid,” to a “I am stupid. They should hate me!” It’s exhausting and pathetic in that whole “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I’ll go eat worms…” pity party way.

And nobody wants an invitation to a pity party.

One plus to jiu-jitsu and PMS is that when my husband breathes in a way that annoys me, (seriously, this is the crazy it does to me,) I can cross face him a little more.


Breathes. Or talks. Or looks at me. Or doesn’t look at me…

It also means that he has to walk on eggshells around his crazed, rage-filled wife since she is learning jiu-jitsu and has certain tools that can potentially hurt him. He’s the real hero in this whole monthly situation. We’ve been married for almost 14 years, which means he’s survived, with all limbs intact, through roughly 160-ish weeks of my demon-like tendencies.

A true hero.

All men that deal with us during this time are heroes. Seriously, my thanks to you for your service and my apologies that we put you through this crazy shit. We really don’t mean to be horrible bitches, it just happens, uncontrollably. Apologies for this post too, I’m sure, if you even made it this far, it’s making you slightly uncomfortable.


This is solid advice.

As far as jiu-jitsu, I feel like I won the battle with my evil self last night. I tried to make myself aware that my little demon was there and did my best to keep her hidden way in the back of my brain. Anytime she tried to surface, I put her back in her place. I got in many great rounds, played around with some new stuff, and just had a great time in general. It was nice to walk out with a smile during such a emotionally imbalanced time. And, I actually felt like my normal self, or at least as normal as you can realistically call me, for the rest of the evening.

If jiu-jitsu can help me deal with the PMS demons and distractions better, it’s a lot more badass that I had originally thought.


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