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Full Of The Full Moon

During the past couple of weeks, I got a double-whammy of mood-boosting (really, busting) fun. I mentioned in this post that lately I’ve been experiencing Seasonal Affective Disorder.

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We interrupt our regularly scheduled blog post for this important update. After publishing that post, I remembered once upon a time reading something about sunlight being helpful for serotonin production.

I looked it up, and sure enough! Sunlight stimulates serotonin – the feel-good hormone – production in the brain. Then I muscled-tested and discovered that I’ve been a bit deficient in vitamin B6, one of the serotonin-stimulating nutrients. Well!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog post…

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Therefore, to combat the effects of S.A.D., I started taking B6. I just happened to have some on hand. B used to take it, before he started taking a multi, and I never felt right about just tossing the pills away.

See, you minimalist gurus, it’s not always a bad thing to hang onto things “just in case”!

I felt better for a couple of days. And then…

THE FULL MOON.

I don’t care what scientists say. They say that the moon phases really don’t affect human behavior. They’re wrong. I mean, scientists used to think the earth was flat and that the sun revolved around the earth, right?

And it’s not just the day of the full moon that is problematic. That would make life too easy.

No, oftentimes people (“people” meaning me, B, and J) experience the effects of the full moon (or new moon) two days ahead of the actual date that the moon is going to be officially full (or new). And so it happened this time.

Most of the time, the emotional effects of the full or new moon are mild. Sometimes I barely notice them. But this month, my perimenopausal body was giving me signs that my perimenopausal hormones were a bit whacked out around the same time of the full moon.

So it might be more accurate to say I experienced a triple whammy of mood-busters.

As a result, for three days, I wished I’d never gotten married, I hated being a mother, and I wanted to get into my car and drive to Arizona (because there’s no humidity there) and live in southern Arizona state parks for the rest of my life (because there’s no humidity there and I’m tired of housework). J was a horrible husband, and B’s existence made me feel trapped.

Plus, why the BLEEP did we move to a place with such high humidity most of the year?

I won’t tell you all the thoughts that overwhelmed me. You’ll stop thinking I’m a wonderful person and you’ll never buy another romance novel from me again. *Sniffs.*

I will tell you that I came this close to sharing some of my thoughts with J. Thoughts that would have hurt him deeply.

Thoughts that I would have regretted speaking a couple days later.

But, I didn’t. I didn’t voice the thoughts. I was a good girl and kept my trap shut. (See, I am learning SOMETHING from all these dozens of months of mood swinging!) I was, however, cold and distant. I barely kissed J, didn’t offer any affection, avoided his gaze most of the time.

One time, he asked me if I was all right. “I’m fine,” I answered while ducking to avoid the bolt of lightning.

I was ready to move back into the Tuff Shed and live there as a single married person. Or rent a studio in Phoenix. Because, of course, there’s no humidity there.

Sure, I would have to go back to using a flush toilet and an actual washing machine if I returned to city living. Aw, snap! But listen, while we in southeast Oklahoma have been suffering from average southern Minnesota early winter temperatures – including a week of miserable humidity to go along with it – in Phoenix they’ve had daytime temperatures in the 70’s and 11% – ELEVEN PERCENT!! – humidity.

Have I mentioned I’m sick of the high humidity here?

Back to the full moon. I was actually pretty proud of myself. I didn’t go ballistic, or have any crying fits. Go, magnesium! But by the actual day of the full moon – my third day of mental misery – I was begging God to do something.

And, He did. He made the next day to be the day after the full moon. And who ever has emotional difficulties the day after the full moon?

Okay, I do, but only if I happen to have P.M.S. then.

Anyway… that proves that God is not out to get me, after all. Because if I’d been God, I’d have made sure that that bolt of lightning would’ve fried me inside out by day three.

That day after the full moon, I hugged J and told him I loved him and was sorry for being so distant.

“I was wondering if you were mad at me about something,” he confessed, not having dared to hardly talk to me the previous three days.

“Only that you existed,” was my honest response.

So, now I’m back to being happy. For two more weeks.

And then, (cue scary music here) THE NEW MOON!

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