Okay, so here's my take on PMS.
I've heard that PMS is no excuse for being mean to people. I feel this is true until you make a serious attempt to be alone to work through the raging series of unnatural, demonic, unrealistic, crazy, illogical feelings. Once you've made that attempt, it cannot be your fault if someone continues to be anywhere near you by choice.
That's my rule. I'm blessed with a husband who totally gets it and as soon as I realize my emotions are not my own, and tell him I'm a ticking time bomb and it's not him, he is quite supportive and will leave me be.
The second thing I've found is that a shower and a brisk walk in the pouring rain does, indeed, do the body and mind wonders. I was so ready to scream for no real reason that I realized I was experiencing the "flight or fight" response. Adrenaline. I know that adrenaline is good for one thing: Self-defense. I also know that if it is not utilized, it turns inward. Stress is not good for one's body. Internalized anger, rage, that whole feeling that causes the adrenaline when you feel threatened somehow - which is usually what anger is - will cause depression and physical maladies. That, I know, turns into a downward spiral. Fast.
So I ditched lunch, took a hot shower, dressed in layers, and went for a walk. I had an idea... I'm not as physically fit as I once was, so I didn't expect I'd be running a marathon. A mile round-trip should do it physically. Mentally, though, I might need more because none of my music devices were charged. So I came up with a game. Think of something POSITIVE in my life, and then say it out loud followed by, "Dammit."
I walked out the door and found a sidewalk. It was pouring outside. I love rain, so this was good. I stashed my glasses in my inside coat pocket and removed my hat so the rain could seep into my skull. "I love Dale. DAMMIT!" I said, out loud for full effect. It sounded ridiculous. I passed by the house that caught on fire a week ago. "Our house hasn't caught on fire. DAMMIT!" That sounded pretty ridiculous, too. I felt my emotions shift from anger to a combination of amusement for the stupidity of my emotions and empathy for the family whose house had caught fire. It's hard to be angry at the world for nothing when you're walking past a house that had required a few towns' worth of fire departments to save. Kind of puts things into perspective. A little. But PMS emotions are illogical. I knew it would take even more than that. I sprinted up the hill. Who says you cannot run from yourself?
As I sprinted, I realized that my foot wasn't bothering me. At all. Not even a twinge. The PF I'd had for years was finally not bothering me anymore, to the point that I'd taken it for granted. Yet I still wasn't out there walking and dancing. "My foot doesn't hurt. DAMMIT!" I said, chuckling. "Dale's an awesome person. DAMMIT!!" I felt myself smiling, I couldn't help it. "I have a good job. DAMMIT!!" I began to get shortwinded and remembered how I'd walk to school - over a mile each way - daily for four years. I wondered if it was more or less stressful to be forced to get that kind of exercise or to be comfortable in a car hurtling along between 25mph and 60mph for an hour each day. My almost two miles used to take me 20 minutes. Now I clench my neck muscles for an hour and try not to die. Which do I think I'd rather do, I wondered, bemused. I probably prefer driving. Walking is tiring, I thought, as I ran out of breath and felt a stitch trying to form in my gut. "I have an awesome life... dahmit," I huffed and puffed, and began laughing and wheezing despite myself. Then I remember Dale's concerned face, the sadness, when I bitchily explained to him that I was bitchy and it's not his fault and I wanted to scream for no reason other than because I wanted to scream. When I told him I was going for a walk, he said, "Take all the time you need. Food will be waiting for you when you get back." I wanted to rip his head off like a praying mantis. It was illogical. I stepped outside instead and muttered some sort of "Thank you" because it was appropriate. I felt like an idiot for a moment. Then I got weepy. "If there were more people like Dale in the world," I said to myself, "The world would be a much better place. There would be no wars. Everyone would be kind to each other, helpful, selfless, courteous, sweet, and thoughtful." I took a tissue out of my pocket. I had a tissue because I knew from experience that this would happen at some point and I didn't want to have a snotty nose out there in the rain while I was trying to walk and sprint myself along. I'd snatched a few on my way out the door.
I felt a lot better and I hadn't even gotten to the pond yet. It felt good to be alone even while I was surrounded by families, all going about their own business. I got to the pond and stooped down, watching the rain hit the ice on the pond. I watched the fog hug it and the water dance on it. I held my hand out and collected several drops of rain water. I licked them off my hand. I realized I was pretty thirsty and contemplated drinking off the top of the pond. I decided that would be dangerous; runoff probably collected there, oils from cars, salt, etc. I collected some more rain in my hand and licked that off, too. Then I sprinted away. The road became icy, so I turned back. I sniffed the air and felt myself wiggling my nostrils. I wondered if I could smell better this way, and realized I believed I could. I pictured my previous pets doing this - hamsters, rats, mice, rabbits - and thought that perhaps I was a rat in a past life. I had stopped at the pond once more and collected more rain. It was nice to be alone with my thoughts, listening to the rain tap out its comforting messages like morse code on the surface of the icy pond. What were the fish doing in there? Does cold temperature affect the milfoil in the pond? What's thriving in there? What's dying? All these questions, these curiosities, the endless wonder like a child's. I'll never grow up no matter how many hormones rage through me and cause such nonsense, I decided. I am curious by nature. I need space. I /like/ to contemplate, wonder, think, and listen to silence. Within silence is just the opposite - there are so many sensations that are missed by being into so many of life's adventures!! Yes, I thought, I have nothing at all to be upset about, and everything to be happy about. I was tired, and wet, nauseous, hungry, and thirsty. Then I saw it. Something whitish in a dark spot on the pond. I peered closer at it and realized it was a heart-shaped hole in the ice. The white spot in the center was a swirl of froth. It was acting as a drain! My brain tried to make some feeble connection to the heart sucking in the runoff but it failed miserably. I stared at it for a while in silence, even my brain being quiet. I had one moment where I wished Dale were there to see it with me, and short of that, a camera would have been nice so I could share it later. But it was mesmerizing, so I simply watched. My legs began tingling. I'd stooped too long.
I stood up and for a moment the pond's heart got dark and I felt a fresh wave of nausea. My head suddenly hurt. I had stood up too fast, I realized, even as I wondered if I would pass out. But the feeling cleared. I saw little sparkles and cautiously moved away from the slippery grass and back up to the road, a bit farther from the pond's waters. Just in case. By then I felt normal again so I bid the pond farewell and sprinted up the steep hill past Wendy's house. "Hi Wendy," I muttered, greeting her assumed presence inside that house. I didn't expect a response and didn't get any. If I had, I'd probably have jumped out of my skin!
My winter coat was soaking wet. My inner flannel shirt was fluttering heavily beneath the hem of the coat and dripping onto my thighs. My lightweight shirt was soaked all down the front and my hat - which I'd donned at some point - was dripping onto my knees with every step. I was amazed my feet were not that wet in my mesh shoes. I stepped in a puddle. "Surprised I got this far," I corrected myself, laughing to myself. "Oh my God, I feel pretty good," I said, spotting what looked like a nerf ball in the ditch. I couldn't tell what it really was because my glasses were in my pocket. It was bright orange and looked like a large orange spiked on a branch. Whatever. I kept moving, now jogging down the other side of the hill through the flowing water. "This really is good for a person to do when they feel so angry and out of sorts," I told myself, remembering all the messageboards I'd read years ago. I felt like posting that myself. "Hey everybody!! They're right!! If you've got a bad case of PMS, go for a walk!! It's awesome!!" I grimaced as I realized my third rule for PMS.
Third rule: Don't ever expect a suggestion to be appreciated or followed, even if advice is sought. There is NO LOGIC to PMS. Whatsoever. The worst thing anyone can do - aside from tell you you've got PMS - is make suggestions when the person before you is irrational. I remembered this because once I was desperate for relief and went on the boards seeking advice. "Get some exercise. Go for a walk," I read. "Fuck off," I'd thought angrily. Yes, you read that right. I went looking for advice and got angry that I found it. Why? Because there IS NO LOGIC to PMS. My advice on the messageboards, then, would be: "I find taking a walk and playing the "positive dammit" game helps me. But if you're suffering from PMS, we can all go to hell, so go figure it out your fucking self. What are you still reading this for? Just so you can argue with me? Of course you are! Because PMS is fucking irrational!!"
I had stepped in a few more puddles by this time because I was preoccupied with my thoughts and the scents in the air than I was with watching for puddles. "Oh, that's wet," I thought, as I saw my feet plunge through a slightly deeper stream of runoff. It felt good. I was three houses away from home when I finally heard my feet. "Let us out," they begged. "Are you crazy? You don't want out. It's 50 degrees out, wet, and the road is certainly cold!" "Let us out!" they insisted. Fine, I thought, knowing it was a mistake. How willing was I to put my wet feet back into my shoes? I didn't want to find out. I went dancing quickly down the road, shoes in hand, feeling the cold, wet pavement greet my eager feet. "It's SUMMERTIME!!" they shouted. I laughed at them, knowing all this rain would probably freeze into glare overnight. "You're a couple of loonies," I thought, but I felt this wave of joy spread over me, this resignation, an acceptance, and the knowing gratitude that soon, I'll be splattering up onto the porch and into the house, dripping wet, out of breath, and... happy.
My feet were almost numb by the time I splashed onto the grass. Pain seared through them, a warning against frostbite. The grass felt good and foreign. Some of it was slick with ice. I was surprised I could still feel anything, especially since I just found out I may have a very minor case of Raynaud's. I splattered up onto the porch, my body coursing hot blood into my organs from the pain.
It was awesome.
~w
