Might as well say it in the title. You know what you're in for...
For the latter portion of my teens and much of my twenties, I blessed myself with the magical concoction Depo-Provera from which begat years of periodlessness. Hard core hormones that it was, stories abound that do not match my own wonderment. From what I've heard, it could also be three months of PMS until the injection wears off.
Whether it was the stressors from high school and college, or the stressors from marriage, or just my own unsettled brain, I knew that when I was in a foul mood, it had nothing to do with any monthly hormonal flux. I had chemically negated the PMS defense/dismissal.
In any case, my womanity and I are becoming reacquainted on a monthly basis. It helps that I’ve de-cluttered my psyche for the most part. I am self-aware enough that I know when my thoughts of men I’d best not be thinking about suddenly drift into more carnal waters that my ride is about to begin. These waters are relatively calm throughout most of the day; it’s the times that my mind is still that my biology can take over and I can ride the waves--those undulating waves. That said, my aggressive tendencies, if only in my mind, tell me to assess my tampon inventory.
A day or two later, with or without additional stressors, inevitably a comment by a co-worker will snap me like a twig and I’m ready to punch a hole in the wall then immediately cry into a teddy bear. And inevitably, never mind the meanings of aforementioned carnal desires, in this moment I will be unable to remind myself of my own thinking, wishing to believe that this emotional turn has absolutely nothing to do with being a woman.
My co-worker was just being an ass.
Or rather, my womanity does not negate the ass-ity. Perhaps I am merely more aware and/or less polite. He/She was still an ass.
I look at my calendar which I still refuse to mark for such occasions and lead myself to believe I’ve still got a week to spare. No way this has anything to do with hormones.
Aggression turns to depression over the next day which leads me to doubt every element of my life. The men who filled my fantasies are now threats to my happiness.
Should I look for a new job? Who would hire me? My life runs on five-year cycles so maybe it's time. But I have earned a level of respect that would be eliminated if I started over. But if I bind myself to what others think, then who does that respect really empower?
Threat. Fear. Doubt.
Then one trip to the bathroom and I breathe a sigh of relief. Dammit, it’s just hormones. Damn hormones. Scared me to death. Womanity, I love you.