Wow – how about those hormones ladies!
Come on, admit it. I am not the only woman in the world to have been beaten down by the nasty hormone wasp. That evil little bug buzzes about, stinging you when you are not expecting it, so surreptitiously that you don’t even know you were infected until you start to come out the other side.
There are various points in our lives when we know hormones will take over, the buzzing will get so loud it will drown out the small voice of rationality in our heads.
Puberty, for example. Yes, that is universally recognised as a time when we will get emotional, dramatic and the world will turn against us. Teenagerdoom!
Pregnancy. Oh boy yes, that one does have a kick. Weepy, hysterical with laughter, angry, delirious . . . that little bundle of fun growing inside you has somehow grabbed hold of the control panel to your tear ducts and your brain and is pressing buttons at random to see what you will do next.
Menopause. While I haven’t personally been through this one myself yet, I do clearly recall coming home for the holidays from uni and after 24 hours telling my usually calm and capable mother that I would go and spend Christmas in my dorm alone if she didn’t go get some HRT. Insane does not describe it!
But what about the other times! You know, ladies, those times to which I refer. I don’t mean the predictable monthly cycle where we know we might get a little grumpy. When we might be slightly less amenable than usual and, dare I say it, even enjoy it a little. When the men about us like to be a little daring and risk a few jokes. ‘Oh, it it that time, darling?’
I mean the times when we just feel mired down, fed up, grumpy and depressed. Life is moving along as normal, nothing has necessarily gone wrong, the world has not blown up. But we just feel like there is a big fat wasp prodding us along. It’s more than PMT.
Over the last few weeks I have been attacked by the wasp. That little bugger has been driving me mad. Paranoia, anger, I had it all. For no reason. Nothing I could explain anyway. And finally, last weekend it went away. Life seemed rosy again.
But it was only after the weight of the world crumbled off my shoulders that I could recognise how down and fed up – how not me – I had been.
I did not like being me over those few weeks. I did not enjoy feeling angry at the world and not know why.
But I am not pregnant, I am not suffering from teenagerdoom and I certainly am not nearing menopause. It’s worse than PMT but there is no name for it. A fair few of my friends seem to be suffering from it right now too. It’s mid thirties, mothering tiredness perhaps. It’s the ‘having children under 10 and needing a little silence’ syndrome. Maybe it’s just New Year blues, after all, we can’t all blame it on the children.
Whatever it is, I just wanted to reassure you ladies. It does go!
And in the meantime, if you want to come and have a rant about it, I’m listening.
Ok – this may not be overtly optimistic, but I assure you, it is! Look hard, the optimism is in there.