When I am on my period I am not myself. Like a Snickers commercial, I go through a weird internal transformation and chocolate does help, it makes the cramps go away for a little while. The backache stays but it isn’t as terrible as both combined. It still sucks and I am always relieved when it finally passes.
It’s like Lux Interior is in my interior
I suppose I should be glad I still have my monthly, it is familiar and aggravating but not as terrifying as the great unknown, menopause. It lasts for a few lousy bloated days but menopause goes on and on, from what I’ve heard.
The temporary change I experience is the result of my hormones being out of whack. I know this, know this is a short term attack and this makes it bearable, knowing it will pass. I just need to ride it out.
My emotions are heightened. I feel sad, angry and I am easily miffed, more than usual. I also feel the need for someone to be kind to me, like Jerry was. Someone who will go out of their way to do something nice for me, buy me lunch, watch netflix with me, little gestures that matter. I want someone who will listen and not be judgmental. I want to hear I’m not so old, that I still have value, worth, even that I am still pretty, a little. It may be a lie, but I don’t mind. And this someone needs to be a man. This all is ridiculous and silly, as well as impossible. I know this will pass. It’s vanity. I also know it will hit me again, on my next period.
I do not want a relationship, no dating, no flirting or any of that crap. I don’t want a one night stand, the idea is repulsive to me. I can’t, I couldn’t and I know it is not for me, none of this. I’m not critcizing women who date or want to date after their husbands die, it’s just not for me. I know I’m meant to be on my own. I just lose my mind for a few days every month.
Sometimes I wonder if I should hide myself for these days. I worry that the madness may show, that other people see my secret yearning, that they feel sorry for me or that the absurdity of it makes them laugh. It’s vanity, I know I’m dull and colorless, an uninteresting person and nobody looks at me, not really. But it makes me feel self-conscious. I feel safer when my period has passed and I’m through with these crazy feelings, the exaggerated emotions as well as this silly pointless wanting.
I wish someone had warned me about this odd after effect of widowhood. So this is why I am admitting my strange yearning for someone to be kind to me, as Jerry was. There is mention of being lonely, afraid, and being forgotten, those are predictable and expected aspects of being a widow. They suck but at least you know it’s not just you. But this particular weird affliction is not mentioned; maybe it is just me, or maybe other women are embarrassed to admit it. Whatever. Consider this part confession and part public service.
It seems fitting but I really enjoy watching Dave, check out that smile.