Facing my Inner Monthly Monster
My mum was empathic and gentle, fun and playful, my brothers and I were lucky. At least, we were 2 weeks of every month. The other 2 weeks were mostly a blur with an angry, grumpy mother in full focus. One who had far too high expectations of her brood.
During the ‘time of month’ she would shout and cry, slam doors and have full blown tantrums. Then, as if nothing had happened, it would suddenly all pass and gentle loving mummy would be back again…
Month on month, year on year. This was our house. But back then I just thought it was normal. Why wouldn’t it be? It was all we knew.
The thing is, I don’t think we really ever spoke about it, and I don’t think my mum even knew how bad it was until once when my very young brother asked her if her period was due as she was in the midst of a bout of self pity.
I always vowed that I would never be like her, I would always be a gentle and kind mother. Doesn’t every woman make that declaration to herself; the promise to be better than the one before?
Then hormones happened.
I’m an abusive mess 2 weeks of the month. Just like my mum. But hey, at least I can admit it, right? That’s a step forward.
I adore my children, love them with all my heart. I encourage them and take joy in guiding them through life. At least I do for half of each month. The other half I feel like locking myself in the bedroom and rocking back and forth until my monthly has passed.
Suddenly homework time becomes a time of frustration, reading leads to exclamations of “seriously… you know what it says” instead of gently guiding them through a maze of unfamiliar words.
I feel like an irritable teenager without the ability to stop the impatience that is flowing out of my mouth.
At times my mood swing can air towards the ‘hilarious’ side of the scale. My friends are introduced to the agony aunt act and my sarcasm and wit are so on point that my jokes even make me smile!
My PMT entertains people. Unless you live with me, in which case you’d likely want to pull your hair out, or cry and on some occasions probably both.
It was only last week that I realised that although I promised I’d never become my mother, I have in every sense morphed into her mini clone. Apparently even my PMT reflects my mother’s hormonal roller coaster. I hate it…
I hate the monster I become once a month for a week or two. I hate her. She’s not nice to her gorgeous children. She has no appreciation or joy in the fact her life is great in so many ways. And she really struggles to even like her husband at times.
I adore and love my husband. He is funny, kind and gentle. He is an amazing father who when I turn into the devil, helps the kids to avoid my anger. He tidies up after them and protects them when someone else has taken over my body.
At this time of the month I would quite happily ask him to move out and apparently I have, many times. So many in fact that he no longer takes notice, and instead pops out for chocolate and returns in the hope that this sweet treat will lure back his loving wife from behind the shadow of the dark woman that has enveloped her.
It was a wake up call for me last week, when again I felt the anger and sorrow building up and swiftly asked my husband to consider packing a bag as I’m so terrible to live with. His reply was “it’s funny, how a few times a year just about 2 weeks after your period, you’d like me to pack a bag.”
It was a slap in the face, the slap I clearly needed. My wake up call didn’t come in the shape of a young son querying my time of the month but it came in the shape of my husband who clearly could tell the stage in my cycle through my mood. He is able to track my hormonal cycle better than I can!
PMT is a real issue and is heartbreaking to live with for so many women. It takes away half of who we are and half of the time we could spend feeling love and contentment. It changes our nature and hurts those who are near.
Despite the fact that every single woman on the planet has experienced it at some point in their lives, it remains a taboo subject.
We dare to get angry with others when they ask ‘is it that time of the month, dear?’ – when realistically, it probably is. Because 9 times out of 10, we are only heinous bitches when our hormones take over.
Why do hormones alter our state of mind so easily?
A friend of mine once told me about an incident that shook her up so much it scared even her. During a PMT rage, she honestly picked up a tennis racket; she tried to attack her son with a tennis racket. Her husband even had to hold her back. Now, to be fair, teenagers can be tough at the best of times, but no mother would ever consider harming their own child if they are in a normal head space. She is one of the most loving mothers I know, but hormones had altered her state of mind.
She went to the doctor for help and was prescribed birth control pills, but is that the only solution to cure PMT to suppress our hormones further?
I have googled a million times for alternative solutions, and now I take evening primrose oil. Apparently it helps. I have added omega 3 too, in the hope it will smooth my transition from Normal Mummy to Pre-menstrual Monster.
I continually research natural treatments, listen to meditation tapes and try to control my temper because I don’t want my children to love only half of me and fear the other part.
I don’t want to be a part-time mother. I keep hoping that one day, I will not feel this low, this angry and this hopeless.
I just hope that day comes before my children are off to university.
If you suffer from PMT the NAPS charity is a great resource for support and advice:
