Ravings

Last month, in the few days before my period started, I hated everyone.  Every little thing made me angry.  I knew I was wrong, but I couldn't get control over my feelings.  My period is overdue again this month, and I'm crazed again.  Not as much anger (but still too much), but overly emotional over inconsequential things.  Yesterday, for example, was a terrible day with poor Noah, who is the only student of a teacher who may or may not become a lunatic once a month.  His faults seemed magnified out of proportion, and I was feeling despondent about his future.  I cried.  I'm also confused and easily overwhelmed.  Sometimes I can't follow what the teenagers are talking about.  I feel old.

After the difficulty of the day, I still had to pick up Sarah from school and make dinner.  Sitting there outside the school waiting for Sarah, I was overcome with love for her and excited to see her.  Fifteen minutes later when she still hadn't come out and my feet were numb, those good feelings had evaporated, and when she finally came out chattering with her friends, I was annoyed.

I made a stir fry for dinner.  While chopping vegetables for a good thirty minutes, I angrily thought, "Mike and Sarah aren't even going to eat this.  If either one of them says one negative thing about it, I'm just going to walk out the door and not come back."  Mike came home.  I offered him some stir fry.  He looked at it and said, "Uh, no thanks."  I begged him to try one little tiny bird-sized portion.  He did, and he said something like, "This is actually pretty good."  I started crying right there at the table.  Relief and thankfulness and hormones I guess.

At 10:30 p.m., I ate half a bag of potato chips and too much chocolate.  I couldn't stop.

This morning I read something on facebook that started the waterworks.  I cried and cried and cried.  Pulled myself together and taught biology, Korean, and history like a normal person.  Now taking a lunch break, typing this, and crying.  Noah just came over and said, "Why are you crying?  Is it about me?"  I assured that it wasn't, and he rubbed my back and said, "Don't cry. You're depressing me."   Am I ruining him? Is this menopause?  Is it supposed to be like this?