The One Where Menopause Kicks My Ass And Makes Me Cry

*Warning:  This blog may or may not contain excessive use of the word "fuck."  You probably don't want to read it out loud to your boss, your gramma, or your 5 year old.

So yeah... I think it's finally hit.

Here's how I know:

Right now, this very minute?  My period is three weeks late and I have an almost uncontrollable need to bite someone.

Everyone is mean and making me cry.

And I want to hurt them.

And then cry about it.  Hard.

And after I'm done with that?  I want vodka, chocolate, and an argument.  Which I will win by default, because I will just yell "BULLSHIT!" until I do.

I have had cramps for 6 weeks.  Seriously.  I have had relentless hormonal headaches, night sweats, hot flashes, pimples, bloating, mood swings, back aches, body aches, pre-homicidal episodes...

I am probably the most irrational person in the world.

But if you suggest that I might be irrational?

I will kill you in your sleep.

This is how my arguments have gone lately:

Person with different opinion:  *Rational argument, facts and figures, logic*

Me:  "BULLSHIT."

Person with different opinion:  *Rational argument, facts and figures, logic*

Me:  "Seriously?  BULLSHIT."

Person with different opinion:  *Rational argument, facts and figures, logic*

Me:  *rude butt-noise made on my hand*

Or, the alternate scenario:

Person with different opinion:  *Rational argument, facts and figures, logic*

Me:  "You're wrong.  WRONG."

Person with different opinion:  "Why am I wrong?"

Me:  "Because FUCK YOU."

Here's the thing:  I've always had horrrrible PMS.  Actually, I have PMDD, which is PMS on steroids holding a hand grenade. It's like Mutant Ninja PMS, with screaming, crying, bloating, cramping, and chocolate.  I can rationally determine, while I'm in the throes of a PMS meltdown, that my problem is, indeed, entirely menstrual, and that I'm over-reacting, and I have no real reason (other than hormones) for my behavior... but I can't stop it from happening.  

Like today, for example...

I have been crying all day.  Everything is upsetting me.  I'm mad at the drop of a hat.  My feelings are one giant, raw, open wound.  Everything hurts.  Everything.  My head hurts, my body hurts, my feelings hurt.  I've stomped upstairs in a snit twice.  I've thrown myself face down on the bed and sobbed, also twice.  

Then I blamed it all on Dan.

(Chances are, he does bear some blame in all of this.  So I wasn't entirely out of line.)


The actual conversation:


Me:  *lying face down on the bed sobbing*


Dan:  *cluelessly following me into the bedroom*  What's wrong??"


Me:  "I'M SICK AND TIRED OF YOU YELLING AT ME!"


Dan:  "What are you talking about??? I'm not yelling at you!"


Me:  "OH, BULLSHIT!  YOU HAVE BEEN YELLING AT ME NON-STOP FOR TWO WEEKS!"


Dan:  "I have not!  Dani, I haven't been yelling at you!"


Me:  "BULLSHIT!!  STOP. YELLING. AT. ME!!!"


Dan:  "I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU!"


Me:  *pointing accusingly and bursting into a fresh flow of tears*  "SEE??  RIGHT THERE!!  YOU'RE YELLING AT ME!!!"


I know, I know.

Exactly.

It seems like only yesterday I was curled up in the fetal position hugging a heating pad and begging for death every time I got my period.  

Now?  I would sell my SOUL for that.  If it meant this?  Would go. The fuck.  Away.

This is my message to my 15 year old bed-ridden self, fyi.

I currently have a list of people in my head who seriously need to kiss my ass.

They include:


1.  Everyone who has ever told me that menopause is no big deal and that they just stopped having their period one day and lived happily ever after.


2.  Everyone who has ever told me that exercise will help with my menopause symptoms.  (And for them I include a Very Special "FUCK YOU!"  I'm too tired, crampy, bitchy, whiny, irritated, and sweaty to exercise, ASSHOLES.)


3.  Everyone who is younger than I am and has NO IDEA what I'm going through.


4.  Men.  Men can all kiss my ass.


5.  Everyone who has poured salt into the giant gaping wound that is my feelings lately.


6.  Night sweats.  Night sweats can fuck the hell off and die.


This is me (for the most part) when I go to bed at night:

Me when I wake up in the morning:

Okay, fine.


This is me when I wake up in the morning after sweating my ass off all night (but only from the neck up):

7.  Everyone.


I can't keep my mouth shut, you guys.  I can't.  If I have an opinion, it is bound to come out.

I spent years smiling politely while people voiced their feelings and opinions, no matter how stupid or wrong they were.  I knew I wasn't going to change their mind any more than they were going to change mine, and if I just didn't respond or disagree, they'd eventually peter out and change the subject, and we'd go back to talking about shoes and make-up and gossiping about all the people we mutually didn't like.

Now, however?  Like, for the past five months?

I just. Can't. Do it.

And you're gonna like it, dammit... Like it and thank me for it.

Here's the truth:

I started writing this blog yesterday.  Yesterday was a really bad day for me.  I honestly could not stop crying.  I felt like I was being crushed by depression, physically suffocated by despair.  I lost a long time friend due to insensitive behavior on her part and was truly devastated by how badly she hurt my feelings.

Then I read how lovely, courageous little Alice Pyne, the young girl who writes Alice's Bucket List, lost her battle to cancer.  

I was overwhelmed with grief by the loss of this young and promising life.

I cried so hard I ran out of tears.

Strangely, I woke up this morning feeling almost like my old sassy beforemenopausemademeit'sbitch self.

And while I know this is too good to  last (unless rainbows and unicorns start shooting out of my uterus) I'ma take it.