She's Baaaack

I used to lovingly think of her as "the bitch." That seemed too harsh since it seems she can't help herself, so I've started thinking of her as "the witch." Normally, she's a kind-hearted, warm, caring, thoughtful woman whom I like a lot, but when the witch flies in on her wicked broom, watch out!!! And boy, she flew in this past weekend.

I was there when she flew off the handle. Her husband made the mistake of pushing a piece of crude pottery across the wooden table. It wouldn't have bothered her normally (she's got kids and pets and has gotten somewhat used to things like that). He had no idea what was coming. In her witchiest tone of voice, "What are you doing?!!!"

Husband: "Moving this so I can put my drink down."

Witch: "Well, do you think you could bother to pick it up and move it? Pushing it across the table is only going to scratch the wood! And, you were going to put the drink down on the wood without using a coaster, weren't you?!! Don't I have enough work to do around this place without having to get scratches and water marks out of the furniture?!!!"

Husband (having a serious lapse in judgment): "I'm sorry you're not feeling well."

Witch: "Don't you dare go making this about me!!!! It's always my problem. It's never you, is it? It couldn't be about your scratching the furniture, could it? And tell me why it is that I can't have even one nice thing!!! The kids do enough stuff around here. I shouldn't have to worry about you too!!!!!"

Husband gives wife a tentative little smile.

Witch: "Don't think that your charming smiling will change anything. When are you going to start respecting me? Don't you see how much I do for you and this family? Why do you have to add to the load? Isn't it enough?"

I can't believe what's going on. I want to reason with the witch, but when she starts cackling like this, there is no reason.

Husband: "Is there anything I can do that might make you feel better?"

Witch: "Yeah. Drop the condescending passive-aggressive BS. Start there, why dontcha?"

Husband: (trying to diffuse the situation quickly) "I'm going for a run."

He kisses the witch (is he crazy?) and off he goes, leaving me alone with her. The only problem with that is that the witch is me. And I'm stuck, unable to get away from myself.

I start to cry. I can't stand myself when I'm feeling this way. Oh yes, it's PMS to be sure, but that's absolutely no excuse. It sure is hard to understand though. Most days I'm a reasonably rational, warm, kind person. And it's disconcerting to feel as though some evil, wicked stranger has invaded my body and turned me into a meanie. I swear that I barely recognize myself.

I never used to feel this way, never. But since having child number two things have changed. I feel so bad about it that I spoke to Mr. M.D. at length. He had a few suggestions that seem to help minimally. When I questioned him about why this has only begun happening over the past few years, he said it's probably because I used birth control pills for most of my adult life which would minimize most symptoms. Unfortunately, that solution is no longer an option for me. I must make due with diet and exercise (and when I've got PMS it all seems like a crock to me).

Husband returns from his run. He hesitates as he approaches. I hate that, but I understand completely. He knows I've been crying. He gives me a huge sweaty-but-sweet hug and says, "Feeling better now?" I want to smack him, but fortunately my PMSing has never progressed beyond some sharp words. Even sharp words seem too much to me. I manage to wiggle away without saying anything, and he wisely lets me go off to be by myself. I congratulate myself on my self control, having left without saying another mean word.

Later that night, husband offers to rub my feet. I've got a thing, a big thing, for the foot rub. I know it's his way of saying that he loves me even when I am a bitch for no reason other than that I'm a bitch. After a day, I feel a lot better.

Tonight husband will come home to his favorite dinner and his real, everyday, somewhat sane wife. Ding dong the witch is dead -- for a month anyway.

(My apologies to the men for this post).