My emotions and I are having a little bit of a rough week.
A week of PMS – a full, freaking week of it. Daylight Savings. Half-days and teacher work days. Shifts at the book fair -not necessarily a stressor, and definitely not something I mind doing, but something I have to remember to do. A trip to the doctor when Nicolas reacted to a medication – he’s fine, no worries. Political “stuff” I don’t completely understand in an organization I’m involved in. And an awesome, wonderful blogger, whose writing I adore, has cancer.
These are the things that add up to me wanting to crawl into a hole and come out when someone else has done the dishes piled up in the sink and on the counter, folded the laundry in the baskets, and made me a giant chocolate cake. Or, when someone has broken in and stolen everything (including the mess), allowing me to start from square one.
That doesn’t happen. What does happen, however, when I’m in this state goes something along the lines of:
Me: I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Jason: (fresh in from work and holding a bag of fast food, because he could tell from my voice on the phone that cooking dinner was well outside my sanity level this particular evening): I do.
Me: What do you mean? Why am I so out of it, so tired, so hungry all the time? Why can’t I focus on anything?
Jason: *Staring meaningfully at me, waiting for realization to hit*
Me: …?…
Jason: Isn’t it about time…?
Me: OHhhhhhhhhhhh. Yeah.
I find it flabbergasting that there are people out there who don’t “believe in” PMS. Or, alternatively, who snidely snicker over women’s changing emotions like it’s a sign of weakness or an excuse to be a bitch. I mean, really…anyone who’s ever experienced it would never choose to have to deal with this kind of crap on a regular basis. Or ever. It’s basically several days of clinical depression each month, only I never remember it being as bad as it always seems to end up being. This month is particularly worse than usual, reminding me very much of PPD, probably for the reasons I mentioned.
So, here’s how I deal with PMS*: I get through the daylight hours and look forward to 6pm. By that time, Jason’s usually home from work, hugging me, telling me he appreciates me, and taking over dinner, the kids, and me. As in, “Here’s a burger. Go. Sit. Eat.” He remembers when I’m too distressed to that beef does my body good when I’m in this state. A burger – even an unhealthy, fried, fast food one – does the double duty of settling my hormones and acting as comfort food. I don’t know why I never manage to remember this, and half the time, when Jason hands me a burger, I still don’t remember why. I just hug him, go, sit, and eat. And feel loads better within moments.
Seriously, is there anything better than having a spouse or partner who gets you? Who just plain gets you and knows exactly what you need when you’re far from your best? I can’t imagine there is.
*Today, I discovered another good thing to have in your anti-PMS arsenal: a good friend and Starbucks. Unbeatable combination when you feel like screaming your fool head off. I’ve already thanked her in person and on Facebook and Twitter, but THANK YOU, j. I don’t know if you realize how valuable that hour was.
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March 18, 2010 at 4:03 pm
Mom
Yes, you are very fortunate to have Jason. So many women would give anything for husbands like ours. Dad and I were in Kohls looking for me a pair of summer shoes. Now, this was our 4th store in two days of looking. Shopping wears me out. I was sitting on the stool provided for trying on shoes in this self service shoe jumble and Dad would go and look and bring back shoes for me to try on. A woman shopping there asked if that was my husband helping me and I said yes. She just shook her head and said, “You are so lucky. My husband would be grumbling about how long til he could get out of here.” then she turned the corner and I could hear her saying all the way down the aisle, over and over, “She is so lucky..She is so lucky.” WOW!
March 18, 2010 at 8:48 pm
Gretchen
You know, Jason sounds REALLY good. I have always been really lucky, and have very few issues with PMS. But I have one particular friend that the rest of us have finally started tracking her cycle because her mood swings are so drastic and awful. It’s interesting that Jason knew exactly what was wrong with you, when you hadn’t realized it. My friend’s the same way.
March 19, 2010 at 4:44 am
Queen of Fifty Cents
He is definitely a keeper! And hang in there. Not very many people seem to say this, but menopause is a woman’s best friend. The best! ;o)
March 24, 2010 at 1:57 pm
angelina
A blog friend of mine has told me many times that menopause is fantastic- I’m totally ready for that myself. I was really lucky for so many years that my experience of PMS was really mild. That all changed after I had Max. Ever since then they’ve been getting progressively worse. Now it comes over me in a big black tooth-gnashing cloud of PISSED-OFF and I have learned to recognize that when I feel rage because the laundry didn’t do itself the previous night- it’s PMS.
But even when my own pms was incredibly mild I never doubted that my friends who had it bad from the beginning were experiencing something very real and unpleasant. I have always appreciated the luck that let me off the hook for so many years.
March 26, 2010 at 5:15 am
Jan
Wow what a fella you have there.
And now I want a burger.