The Whirlwind

My friend called the emotional upheaval that precedes her period "the time my body cries because it is not pregnant." More and more, I have to agree. Not because I conciously want to be pregnant, no no no, but because I have to honor the cycle my body goes through and will continue to go through until a) I get pregnant or b) menopause.

The week before my period, the urge to cry is at times irresistable. It could be a tv commercial for starving children in Africa I've seen twenty times; a blog about a mother's pride in her son's winning a speech contest after years of stuttering; or simply me thinking about a poignant memory. Whatever the case, at least once, I break down sobbing. If I cried more, my body would probably luv it - rejoicing in its sadness and despair at once again being an empty incubator. Somehow I hold on, rein in the emotions that want to consume me, and just go to bed early. Eat some chocolate. Give in to other cravings.

Walking down the street a while back, I heard a girl, who looked like she was in college, ask her similar looking girlfriend, "Have you ever felt irrationally angry?" YES! my inner self screamed. Yes! She could have been talking about the schizophrenia she was diagnosed with years ago, but what I heard was the echo of my own misguided, premenstrual anger. For not only does my body cry for its empty womb, it also rages at the world and anyone in it for the tiniest of infractions. Someone could walk by me, without a glance at me or even the slightest breeze from their passing ruffling my air space bubble, and I will glare at them and inwardly curse them and their future lineage for ever having walked by me like they just did. I find myself on the constant defense, and aggressive beyond measure (and I mean in a slightly psycho way, not in the "oh, tame her, wild beast" sort of way). (and I probably need some psychiatric work around my aggressiveness anyway because I notice I am not always aggressive in constructive ways...but this is a blog about me and bleeding damn it)

My mother used to "blame" a lot of stuff on her period and I would scoff at her, thinking she was a bold-faced liar. At the time I was in high school and my period was virtually unnoticeable. No mood swings even. Now, 10 years later, my body and its chemical make up must have gone through some major over hauls because I empathize with my mother's long ago sentiments. You were right Mom, it WAS your period that made you scream in a fit of rage at me, as soon as you walked in the door from work, because, gasp, I was on the phone. It WAS your period making you cry for three nights in a row on the phone with cousin Linda as you talked about people long dead. It WAS your period that influenced you to eat a bag of popcorn, then some chips, then a little chocolate. I was just too young then to be initiated into the world you were revealing to me.
Or too scared of the possibility that I too might one day gorge on popcorn, eat chips, and then pass out with my clothes on at 9:30pm only to have Jason have to undress me and put my limp almost lifeless body to bed.