So… have you ever wondered what happens when one of those
people who always sees the best in people and situations goes through
depression and then early perimenopause?
You end up hiding the kitchen knives.
I’m only kidding if a member of law enforcement is reading this. I have always been one of those people who
expected and wanted to see the very best in the world and the people closest to
me. As one friend put it, “You are just
all unicorns and rainbows, aren’t you?”
And I was until my body turned on me.
I have been taken hostage by a crazy bitch who will cut you. Only figuratively, of course. If I were to stab someone, who do you think
would have to clean that mess up? That’s
right—me.
My mood swings are so severe that they would put a redheaded
two-year-old hopped on sugar to shame.
Just a few hours ago, I announced with a very beleaguered sigh that I
was going to sleep because no one likes me and I just didn’t want to think
about it anymore. To my husband’s
credit, he wisely kissed me on the cheek and said, “Sorry, sweetie. I love you.
Good night.” Now 3 hours later
and wide awake, I can look back and recognize the slight exaggeration in my
comment and sadness. But rest
assured—the crazy will come back and probably be more dramatic than that in a
few hours. My husband (let’s call him
MB) is a very smart man and is learning how to handle me a little better with
each and every moment of insanity. A few
months ago, he might have tried to convince me that people like me and give me
examples of this. I would have argued
with him, cried, become more belligerent.
It wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.
We are on this journey together.
This portion of the journey is nothing either of us would have
chosen. It is difficult and has and will
test what our marriage is made of. These
days instead of trying to convince me I’m being irrational he just tries to be
supportive and understanding of the wildly unhinged redhead in his bed and prays
that she can’t find where he hid the knives.
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