Menopause-Induced Hulk

Raising kids, overall yelling wasn’t really an issue I had. Although the youngest challenged me in her pre-k nonverbal to very verbal years, I didn’t have a lot of repenting to do about yelling.

Enter menopause.

My fuse is short. That’s pretty new. Here’s a snapshot of my anger last week:

Panera associated shorted me $4 with wrong order with the justification, “Let’s just call it even.” I called corporate.

Lady decided at McDonald’s to skirt the drive thru line by cutting ahead from a different entry point. I beeped and when she looked, I made a circle motion to let her know her entitlement was noted and not appreciated. She called me a bad word so I rolled my window down to be sure everyone heard me. Did I swear back? No. But I YELLED, “have a blessed day!”

Our senior dog had surgery and his anxiety wearing the cone was at a 15. This of course ramped up my anxiety. They made it pretty clear what would happen if the stitches came out, and when he used me as his battering ram to break the cone, I told my husband that I think every dog in the cul-de-sac sat down because I screamed so loud.

What has happened to me?

I was talking with a dear friend with the sweetest disposition and although I’ve yet to see it, she admitted menopause has brought on an edge she’s never had before. That struggle is real!

I hate how agitated I get these days, and how fast. The dogs misbehaving. Technology not working. My schedule changing. A grocery item not available. It takes so little to set me off. I don’t scream blessings to the public that often, but my poor family has heard my dramatic sigh with an increase. The worst is when I start to cry. I rarely cry out of sadness. It’s usually anger I can’t communicate in words, so I cry.

It’s hard.

Summer amplified this. For me, humidity is my kryptonite. It’s been a pretty humid summer. When I perform one task and my hormones decide a line of sweat should be constantly running down my face, that triggers me. Add my glasses aren’t right, they get fogged up, then blotchy with my sweat, and I see less than normal. Those aren’t odds anyone wants until my new glasses arrive. I get so angry.

I’m writing this because I promised I’d blog more, and I have a feeling there is someone reading this thinking, “Oh my. I’m not alone. Thank God.” Because honestly, feeling this way is a lonely feeling. The Avengers didn’t run to the Hulk to be their BFF because he was so pleasant. No, they needed Bruce Banner’s wisdom. Big difference. Who wants to be around a raging hormonal lady? I don’t.

Julie Arduini

What am I doing during this season? For one, I refuse to make this my lifestyle. Even if the hormones stay out of whack (my labs always come back great,) I don’t want my anger to be who I am.

I’m breathing. Thanks to Alisa Keeton’s Body Revelation, I’m taking those deep breaths. It’s a recalibration. Do I remember every time? No, the lady at McDonald’s who cut ahead of me knows. I’m trying, though.

I’m listening. I listen to my words and how I say them. If they need adjustment, I try. If I feel unable/overwhelmed, I retreat. It might be crating the dogs for ten minutes. Crating myself, LOL, in my room. I listen to Psalms for Sleep playlist at night. I listen to the “move” portion of Body Revelation when I walk the Beagle. It’s full of principles from the chapter plus encouragement and Scripture. I’ve tried to stay mad when I’m listening to this and I just can’t.

I confess. I’ve been going to God a lot. Asking for His help. Confessing what I did. Said. Thought. I go to my family and get specific on what I’m feeling and how they can help. Or just to let them know. I confess to friends. They pray. I know, because they either stop right there, or they tell me. And I’m feeling those prayers.

Menopause isn’t a death sentence but I struggled HARD in the reproductive years. I had menopause start at 39 when I had surgery. I didn’t know the hormonal storm would hit in my 50’s, probably my body saying this is when you would have gone through this, don’t miss out! Whatever the reason, I wish I got a pass on it all. But when I struggle, I really believe I’ll get to the other side. When I do, I believe my broken places can help someone else.

So if you’re ready to blow, I’ve got you.

And you will be okay.

Promise!