Thursday, May 15, 2008
My Irrational Bitch side was wreaking havoc with my life -- until I told my computer to remind me that it was that time of month.
Feb 7, 2005 | The familiar list of PMS symptoms we've all seen -- tension, irritability, moodiness, depression, etc. -- never includes what for me is PMS's most difficult symptom: myopia. I don't mean myopia in the ophthalmic sense, but rather the shortsightedness that makes it impossible to see that your tension, irritability, moodiness and depression are being caused by PMS, and not by the universe's cruel and ugly indifference, your boyfriend's cloaked hatred, your boss's plot to destroy you, or your general failings as a human being. It becomes difficult to see that the problem isn't with you -- it's with your hormones.
I hate that word -- hormones -- and the way it dismisses real emotional states so blithely, the way it's used as the answer to virtually any woman's health question, the way it's used to explain why women shouldn't be president. But it was tough to deny that hormones were screwing up my life on a monthly basis. Tough to deny, that is, unless I was under their spell. If you asked me in the before stages, I'd admit that yes, I'd had problems with PMS. And in the after stages, I'd realize that, yes, last week's fit of grumpiness/impatience/murderous rage might have been due to PMS. But it was in the crucial during stage that the myopia would set in.
Then I realized that Entourage, Microsoft's information-management program for Mac users, had a "monthly reminder" feature, and I thought my problems were solved. I'd send a reminder message to myself and one to my husband. The monthly fights I picked with him, I imagined, would all be forgiven if he knew the real reason for my hypersensitivity and dismal self-absorption. If hell week came and I attacked him, he'd either ignore me or sweetly put his arms around my shoulders and say, "Here, honey, I think you might need some time to yourself and this bag of chocolate-covered pretzels."
The computer approach also appealed to me because it was chemical-free. I'd looked into medications, particularly Sarafem (Prozac in a PMS-pink package), but dismissed it once I learned that I'd have to take the drug day in and day out. If I could just pop a pill on the days my mood was blackest I might have considered it, but taking drugs every day for a once-a-month problem made little sense to me, especially when there were so many side effects. The various homeopathic roots and berries also held little appeal. I may be an irrational bitch from time to time, but I still need rational, scientific evidence to persuade me to take a medication, whether from the pharmacy or the health food store.
My husband and I had just had a particularly bad patch, fighting for about three days straight. Then I got my period. And I had to offer a shamefaced apology, admitting, reluctantly, that perhaps I'd been a bit unreasonable. "But I was PMS'ing," I pleaded. "And I hope that this won't happen again." I proceeded to explain my plan to "invite" him to my period via monthly e-mail reminders, so that he would know what to expect. He gave me an uncomfortable "I don't want to know nothin' 'bout no female stuff" look, but this new, unasked-for level of intimacy I was about to pull him into, he admitted, seemed preferable to repeating an ordeal like that of the past few days. So he went along.
I went into Entourage, clicked on "New Calendar Event," and typed in "Linda's Period." I created a new category color for the event: hot pink. I clicked "Recurring event" and entered "Recurs every 28 day(s)." And then I clicked "Invite Attendees" and entered my husband's e-mail address.
I'd scheduled the reminder notice to go out one week in advance of my period. But I don't think my husband fully understood the "pre" part of premenstrual syndrome. The first month into our new system, after a week of bitchiness, my period finally came, and with it relief. When the worst was already over, he came in the door with a grocery bag. "I brought you chocolate and steak," he said. My heart melted. But where was he a week ago?
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