Men may balk if they see this is about periods, but they really should read it, methinks, for a little perspective.
Yesterday, during the afternoon of my Shitty, Shitty Day, I got my period. In the space of about 30 minutes, my eye infection suddenly started flushing itself out, and my emotions just totally took a chill pill. It was an amazing emotional about-face within about 90 minutes.
It’s not that often that I get all homicidally tense with my PMS, but I was getting there yesterday as just one thing after another added up into a really crappy day. After I wrote my whining post, for instance, my website wouldn’t load for me (making me think it was down) and I discovered I had a big (like 2-inch radius) infected bug bite on the inside of my knee. Plus an eye infection? Plus my just-verified cockroach infestation? Plus my yeast infection?
My friend was visiting and I literally looked skyward and just bellowed at the rhetorical gods, “REALLY? I really needed THIS too today?”
My friend cracked up, as did I, but I sure as hell meant every word. Then he left, I got my period, and I suddenly felt mellow again. Poof. Like that.
So I think the only analogy a guy might understand about that is, “Take the exact opposite of the release from an orgasm, and that’s that.” Like, instead of a build-up of pleasure you can’t take anymore, with PMS, it’s a build-up of angst and depression and rage and confusion that can’t be taken anymore. (Not by all women, and not all the time. But it can happen. Me, maybe 2-3 times a year?) And the release of the tension provided by the orgasm, the bliss that comes with, that’s the emotional equivalent of what happens when the period arrives. Both literally and figuratively, after one of the high-pressure, volatile PMS episodes.
I’ve had times when I’ve been so angry and didn’t know why, and then I’ve gotten my period and mentally go, “Yeah, okay, now I get it. Now it makes sense. [beat] I need chocolate.”
And men, they sit around and flail hands at women on periods and go, “We don’t get it!” Well, we do? We understand why we go completely mental? We understand why something as stupid as this invisible, intangible concept of hormones can be used as a justifiable defense against murder? We understand why we get needy and insecure and short-tempered?
We don’t fucking get it. It baffles us. We spend our whole lives, practically, at the mercy of these stupid hormone things, batted about like toys in a toddler’s hands, and we never, ever really understand how it can affect us, Sane Strong Women, to the extent that it does.
But we learn to accept it and even recognize it when it’s happening. If I see I’m headed down Bitch Lane, I just try to clear the path a little, you know what I’m saying?
Maybe, just maybe, if more men stopped trying to understand periods and women’s hormones, and just started realizing that it pisses us off and baffles us too, and just cut us a little slack when these phases transpire, life would be simpler for both of us.
See, this is when it’s good to be single. Or else I’d probably be apologizing to someone today after a day like yesterday. Ha.
Fucking hormones. (But, then again, I had hormones with a side of staccato-fire reality. Never really a good combination.)
Today, however? Much, much better. Funny how that works. See? I’m not trying to understand it, just accepting it, and now I’m going to go make a frittata. Happy weekend, minions.
It’s good to be On the Other Side.