There’s a crazy woman living inside my head. Is there one in yours as well?
She becomes irritated and annoyed at the tiniest transgressions. While outwardly I appear to be my same, sweet self, the inner me is causing all sorts of havoc — in my mind.
Everything — and I mean everything — brings tears to my eyes. Toads spotted on a walk, a squirrel almost run over under my tires, a dog who keeps getting sick, a commercial about a child going away to college, the scene in Harry Potter Deathly Hallows Part 1 when Hermione “erased” herself from her parents’ memories, pork chops that stayed in the oven too long, worship songs blaring on the radio, a mountain of laundry, a messy kitchen…literally everything I encounter lately gives me feelings of teary bliss or feelings of teary rage, with not much in between.
The pressure inside when the irritation, hurt and rage hits is unbelievable. I find myself pacing the floor in consternation, unable to discern what I should say or do. So usually I say nothing. (Or I go outside and deadhead an entire hydrangea bush while muttering curse words under my breath.) But from the way my husband and daughter keep asking me “what’s wrong?” and the way my dogs respond to me, I know that my inner musings must reflect in my eyes. I don’t dare tell them the real thoughts that were just running through my head for fear that they would be hurt. Of course they would be hurt. I am hurt by the direction my thoughts take sometimes.
Leave me alone, please. All I want to do is just cover my head with this soft fluffy blanket and stay in bed all day. I don’t want to cook another meal that nobody will relish. No, I don’t know where your socks/shoes/hairbrush/t-shirt/shorts are. What do I look like? A GPS for lost objects? Don’t you use that tone of voice on me. I can’t be truly me anymore because the real me is becoming a mean, crabby crass person. I don’t even like myself. If I could escape my skin I would in a heartbeat. I wish I could go home to mama. Eat her chicken and dumplings and sit and escape into a book all day if I want to without feeling guilty that the clothes aren’t getting washed and the meals aren’t getting cooked and the rooms aren’t getting cleaned. My craving for solitude eclipses my craving for chocolate.
Where on earth did this mystery me come from? I think I’m having a mid-life crisis…but I also think I know why God has brought me to this particular desert place. The worse I feel, the more my soul craves HIM. I used to hear worship songs that croon about running to Jesus…about how He is my everything…and a part of me didn’t understand because I had not yet hit that point where He became my ONLY. When everything is going well, we often don’t take the time to reach out to the Lord so much because we aren’t as aware of our need for Him.
Well, I have been praying that God would draw me closer to Him…and I suspect that this emotional mess that I am in is one way that He is answering my prayer. Because I am finding that I am really relying on Him to give me strength to do the tasks before me. To beat back the negative thoughts. To recognize that my feelings are not reliable but that He is always reliable. He is faithful, and his grace and his love covers all. Remember the old Pepto Bismol commercials where the pink goo slides down the model of the stomach, coating it and bringing relief? That’s what Jesus does to our souls. He covers us. (Ok, gross analogy. Sorry. It’s the crazy me again!)
But perhaps the biggest reason there is a crazy woman inside my head? H-o-r-m-o-n-e-s. Or, in my case, the lack thereof. I talked to my doctor about my emotional roller coaster and learned from some blood work and other tests that I really have zero hormones in reserves. I have surgically induced menopause from the hysterectomy (almost a year ago now!), and I’ve been taking the lowest dose of hormone replacement therapy available. My doctor thinks it isn’t enough.
I kind of agree. At this point I think I’d swallow a gallon of estrogen if it would take away the edginess! (just kidding) I’d like to say to my mother, and to every woman who has walked this hormone balancing tightrope act: you are a rock star. You are beautiful and wonderful, and I hope to one day be like you and not tear up in the Target parking lot because seeing nasty stuff in the parking lot made me think of my old dog who would have instantly devoured it, which made me think of him in his last days, which made me think of how much I miss him, which made me cry. And I was hot in the 95 degrees and the air conditioner wasn’t cooling off fast enough and a hot flash hit me and I was so hungry I was shaking and the car in front of the line in the turning lane didn’t turn left on the arrow so I had to wait even longer before I could get home and have a chocolate chip cookie.
So I went home and had some potato chips and a chocolate chip cookie and a mug of Earl Gray and a nap. Then I felt better. Because chocolate does still make everything a little bit better, even for the crazy woman who has taken residence inside my head. Especially when taken with an extra dollop of estrogen!