Don't go in the water, because you might attract sharks

by Let's Talk About Text

Every month I have an “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret moment”, in which I’m able to discern that I haven’t gone completely batty, but was solely on the verge of starting my period. I verbally refer to it as “lady time”, because it seems a little less female gym coach like. You would assume that by my age I’d be able  to figure out the pattern, but I inevitably end up having a meltdown that looks like something from the show “My Super Sweet Sixteen” and contemplate abandoning this humor writing thing I do to write bad poetry about my feelings and listen to Ani DiFranco,  while cutting my own hair.

On my commute to work this morning I started crying, at first because I was anxious and Monday mornings in general are lacking in charisma, but it evolved into blubbering, because I didn’t even know why I was really weeping in the first place. There’s nothing sadder than not knowing why you’re sad, because you actually have no reason to be sad. Actually…there are much sadder things, but it’s still sad, yes?

Within a 20 minute drive my hormones put my docile logic through some kind of sick hazing in order to become a part of the sorority house that exists in my psyche. I sat in the parking lot of my place of employment convinced that everything in my world had fallen apart, while eating a granola bar and sipping a Diet Coke, because that’s what you do when a real  “tragedy” strikes, make sure you get your fiber intake and foster the development of your aspartame addiction.

I wanted to be back in bed, under a blanket, preferably eating a Snickers bar and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to enter the building, let alone make it through an entire day of work, but then things kick in like responsibility and reality and the fact that I was sitting in a new car that needed a monthly payment and there was a classroom full of children actually depending on my arrival.

I stood on the playground feeling bloated and frumpy, passing for an old librarian or the “before” on pretty much any makeover show. Despite one of my co-workers complimenting my weight loss and another group of women shouting out compliments about my “new” haircut I’ve had for nearly a month, I still wanted that blanket and chocolate and quick witted banter exchanged between a mother and daughter with flawless skin.

My self esteem workbook talks about the difference between your ordinary mind and wisdom mind. Your ordinary mind basically states all the mean things you think about yourself and paints a pretty ugly picture of what it believes to be reality and the wisdom mind is what’s actually occurring. I tried to figure out which one I was using and before I knew it they’d mated and created a new mind that just wanted to shame eat Wendy’s in the car.

Around 3 o’clock I wanted to rip out my ovaries and a throw them at someone’s face, but kind of in a celebratory way…like confetti? I got my period, God! I was elated. I wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I wasn’t slowly sinking into clinical depression. My sanity was there all along, it was just smothered by an estrogen monsoon.

It never hurts to remind myself that happiness is always possible, sometimes I just need to work a little harder to get it. And when my other options run out, Snickers bars are really high in protein.

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