Used to be that I could predict, with relative accuracy, the days that I would be hormonal. You know, as in, get mad at the drop of a hat, then turn around and sink into a pit of depression. Act like the biggest “witch with a B” on earth for three hours.
I would be hormonal just after I ovulated. Then I would have another big surge around Day Nineteen. Then I would be a bear to be around the day before my period started, and maybe one other day in between there.
Ah, those were the days! They are, apparently, long gone.
Take the other morning. It was four days into my new cycle. A day that, in the past, was relatively calm. Normally indicated a day of joking and smiling and feeling upbeat.
But not this time. Nope. I woke up angry. For once, not at J. I was angry with B. For no real good reason, I hadn’t even had a bad dream in which I was screaming my head off at him (what? you haven’t a dream like that about YOUR kid?). Instead of recognizing it for what it was and taking essential oils to head the bad mood off at the pass, I let it hover. Then, descend. Then, send me into a downward spiral so that by the time B woke up, I wanted to throw him out the door.
No, that’s not quite right. My inner Control Freak had turned into a giant monster, and was determined to make B do exactly what I wanted him to do today, or else.
Suffice to say that not long afterward, the two of us were having a knock-down, drag-out. I packed a small bag and huffed out to the Tuff Shed, telling J to come get me only if and when B settled down. Because, of course, it was all his fault.
As I plopped down onto the workbench to eat my breakfast smoothie, a hot lump grew in my stomach. Minutes later, I was bawling.
I’m pretty sure I’ve cried more in the past two months than I have in the past five years combined.
Somehow, that cathartic release caused my rogue hormones to rebalance themselves and settle down like they’re supposed to be in a Normal Woman (what does she look like, exactly?). I went back to the house, still feeling snappy, but apologizing for my behavior and the threats I had made.
And that is just one of many examples I can give of how my hormones become imbalanced at the slightest provocation – or with no provocation at all.
Perimenopause sucks. It has made my hormones go senile.