For several days during every month I feel more irritable, more pissed off, more inclined to run away and never come back than the rest of the month.
It’s hormones. In midlife, hormones play a huge role in emotion control. Or lack of control. This is true for most women I think, but I wouldn’t be surprised if men, too, had periods of less patience and more irritability. (Feel free to chime in, men…)
There are of course ways to minimize this, um, bitchiness from affecting those who live with/closest to you but it takes energy, focus and patience, none of which I seem to have much during those few days.
I’d rather be a hermit during that time.
Alas, this is not possible. So, I researched what needs to be done, and I accessed my various alternative medical professionals, and I adjusted my diet, and I tried to increase exercise, and decrease sugar, white flour and alcohol and all that stuff works to a degree but…
I still get moody.
The point is, I recognize when it’s coming and understand what triggers me to lose my shit. Like, after dinner, that’s a huge trigger. We finally managed to get the kids to consistently clean up and do all the dishes to about 73.8% of my expectations, but it doesn’t happen quickly, or quietly.
They argue. They try to cut corners. They try to pawn off jobs on the other. They put stuff away incorrectly which causes me to fly into a rage the next day when I open the drawer and notice that it will take me several minutes of digging around to find my item.
“It’s not rocket science!” I yell at them. “The pots are organized by size so they all fit! WHY DO I HAVE TO CONTINUOUSLY YELL ABOUT THIS?”
This exact thing had me in a rage one morning a few weeks ago when I couldn’t sleep and got up at 5 am. I had a story brewing inside my head and wanted to make coffee and sit on the couch so I could type it out. I opened a cupboard to take something out when a loud crash startled me. Probably woke up the rest of the house too.
I looked closer. The kids who cleaned up last night stacked the plates without rhyme or reason. So, the large plates were balancing precariously on top of smaller plates. When I opened the cupboard the high pile of incorrectly stacked plates tipped over and knocked several small glass bowls out of the cupboard and onto the counter and floor.
Naturally they shattered. There was now broken glass all over and I didn’t even have my first cup of coffee ready yet.
Ask me how happy that made me.
Ask me how grumpy everyone else was when they woke up.
“Mom is in a pissy mood again” they say…and this makes me fly into a rage all over again.
“Who’s fault is that?” I yell back and start in on the rocket science again.
Anyway, we managed to talk about this exact topic one night at dinner when everyone was calm and I hope that it made sense to them. I don’t expect it to last, but I expect it to at least trigger their brain cells to maybe, just maybe, make that little bit of extra effort to put something away correctly in order to avoid another crash and rage fit from me.
Unfortunately, this is the kind of thing that happens more often than not, and does preoccupy me more than it should. And when it happens during that week of hormonal plunge, well then, maybe they could start to make note of that. I can do my part (escape into the bedroom) but they, too, could/should do theirs.
That’s all I ask. A little bit of cooperation along with some rudimentary understanding of WHY the things happen as they do will go a long way.