Apparently a few days a month Lisa leaves the building and a satanic, salt sucking, chocolate guzzlin’ troll takes her place.
Last night for example, I was having a pleasant discussion with my spouse. One minute we were two adults chatting, laughing even—the next, the poor man said something I didn’t agree with so I spun on my heel and whipped opened the cupboard and grabbed a package of chocolate chips. I shoved a mittful into my mouth and fumed until I was ready to continue the conversion.
What hell is this?
If this is perimenopause, what is full-blown menopause going to be like? I am sincerely concerned.
I’ve had this discussion with hordes of girlfriends and we’re all on the same page. Collectively we’re a happy, gregarious group who upon occasion and somewhat dependent upon the tides, can suddenly transform into something else—something dark and startlingly emotional.
Add in a dose of insomnia (also associated with whacky hormones) and resulting sleep deprivation and it’s… unpleasant.
If you Googled, “how to deal with PMS” or “curing perimenopausal symptoms” or “help for menses monsters aka Menstrosities” and you ended up here, I’m sorry but I can’t help you. I can barely help myself.
I don’t have the answers, but I can offer you this: when I sleep well, eat well (laying off the salty snacks, heavy carbs and processed crap) and exercise consistently, the nasty symptoms tend to diminish. They don’t go away completely, but I’m definitely more sweet than sour.
In theory, this personality affliction should be an easy fix.
But here’s the issue: when fluctuating hormones f*ck with your sleep (plus throw in a persistent case of PTSD) the other things—the triad of eating, exercise and meditative relaxation all goes to hell.
So I guess the only thing I can say is BE AWARE. Silently acknowledge what is happening to whenever you feel yourself being:
a) a shrew
b) unreasonably emotional or irrational
d) generally awful
e) insert your own unattractive personality disorder here _________.
Remind yourself, “I am a nice person. This is not me. I have been temporarily been possessed by the devil.”
I consider myself to be a kind and gentle wife and mother. So when I snap at my husband for slurping his tea or smacking his or I glare at my son for smacking his lips when he eats, I feel horrible about it afterwards. There’s a real disconnect between me and this snappy grouch who is irritated by the smallest things. I don’t care for Snappy Lisa. When I feel her taking over I try to step away to take a few deep breaths, or voluntarily segregate myself from my loved ones for a few minutes to protect them from my irrational wrath.
Like I said, I don’t have the answers. Do you? Because if you do, I’d love it if you could share before my family puts me on an iceflow and pushes me out to sea.
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