I sincerely believe that there is an answer to everything. A true, indisputable explanation for every phenomenon in the world. Even complex scenarios that can only be encapsulated by abstract theories we’ve yet to prove, or ones we (as humans) don’t even have a preliminary explanation for yet. Or those scenarios that we haven’t even encountered yet, but will.
NASA recently found a second moon in our solar system that is geysering water into space. Literally spouting water (and any delightful primordial soup components that might exist) directly up, out of the gravitational field, and into space, where any passing probe can sample it. Not one moon doing this, two! Europa (Jupiter) and Enceladus (Saturn). The possibilities this opens up are exciting (and overblown in the media coverage I read today), especially for an evolutionary biologist who also wishes on stars for evidence of alien life.
To be someone who sincerely believes there are rational explanations for things, and to be faced with continued confusion over something as integral as my own body’s functioning is a pretty pickle indeed. This is compounded by the very-non-scientific culture surrounding women’s bodies: that we just know what’s going on, that we are in tune with our shifting ebbs and flows, that the basics of biology are superseded by the Mother Earth-style connection we women have to our inner sanctuaries (I wish I made that last bit up myself…). It makes my confusion from my temperature data gathering and mucous analyses feel like a failure of a non-clinical sort. A failure to be Woman, if you will. Which is ridiculous.
Lab book update: took prometrium for the apportioned 7 days. Am now six days out from that with nary a sign of menses. So I am now failing to properly fail at having a cycle. I have no idea where I go from here.. I wait the weekend out, and then call my doctor, I suppose. There is an explanation for what is going on, I know that to be true, but I don’t have the means to discover it.