So, I have to share a story about an encounter I had this week. And it is not about Paleo.
Alright, so I’ve been cranky lately. Yea, cranky. That’s the word I’m going with here. Other words would offend people, and then the truth would be out there.
Now, I’m not normally cranky. (Oh, who am I kidding?) I vacillate. I’m unpredictable. I’m either sunshine and roses, or cranky. No in between. Its a little frightening for my family. I’m a scary person sometimes. I’ve been known, on occasion, to threaten to kill my family just because they irritate me. They know I don’t mean. They don’t even bat an eyelash. Because other than my hormonal week, I tend to be more of the sunshine variety personality. I usually have a way of turning things around and seeing everything from an outside perspective. But lately, not so much.
And the crankies have been going on and on for a few weeks now.
So this person I know (whom I will not identify) the other day pulls me aside. She’s a bit younger than I am, not by too much, just a couple of years, really. She says to me, “I went to the doctor the other day. Turns out I’m beginning to show some signs of menopause. So don’t worry. I’m going through this, too. We’re together on this one.”
Huh? Uhhh, I’m not going through menopause. No way, no how. Do I look that bad lately? Ok, I haven’t been getting along with my hair, but, really? Really? I mean, I love her to death, she was soooo trying to empathise and rationalise my cranky. But....no. Not the reason for my mood. And the more I tried to say that, “no, that’s not it,” She’d nod and say again, “It’s ok. Really. I’m with you.”
Uh, the crankies came when my husband got laid off and I became the sole income-earner of our household. The crankies came when my bank account went so far into overdraft that a pay cheque would not dig me out. The crankies came because we’ve been here before, many times lately, because being the breadwinner stresses me out, makes me worry about what happens if I lose my job, too, or if I get hurt or become unable to work, because I hate having this sole level of responsibility. I have the weight of the world on my shoulders and I resent it.
So, its not menopause. That would make me even more cranky. Uber-cranky. I'm way too young for that. Good thing it’s not that. Thanks for listening and letting me rant.