A new storm brewing
After a decade of upheaval – pregnancies, babies, illness, death – Amie Richardson thought life might calm down. So what’s with all the shouting and tears?
It starts as a bubble in my lower back and works its way round to my abdomen. The bubble starts to get bigger, and sends a massive hit to my chest, my hands, my brain. An attack is launched – and I’m on fire, filled with rage, disappointment, fury at Oli for dropping his cereal on the floor; Jasper for asking for peanut butter when there is none; the house for its complete impracticality; the world for not providing more; myself for being a washed-up, hopeless, waste of space. My mouth opens and I unleash a barrage of high-pitched demands, threats and growling, before the flood of tears drowns out my noise and I collapse onto a bed, a chair, anywhere, giving in to the misery of it all.
Five minutes later, the tears are gone, the cloud lifts and I’m back. Aside from the cowering males of various sizes hiding in the corner, nothing’s changed.
Hormones. Lately, it’s felt as if I’ve been battling with them more than I ever did as a teen. Bucket loads of adrenaline sending me into a state of panic where I need to get out quick and take flight. Cortisol bringing despair. I feel as though I’m seriously lacking in happy oxytocin or sleep-bringing melatonin. I’m a failed science experiment, a rocket that has exploded too early, crashing and burning in a blitz of purposeless energy.
As I near my 40th birthday, it seems to be getting worse. I’ve spent the weekend crying like a schoolgirl over insecurities I haven’t felt for years. I ripped weeds from the garden with a face from a horror movie. I’ve unfairly judged almost every person in my life over a 24-hour period and I’ve been just one small child’s whinge away from stamping my foot and slamming a door.
In a word, I’ve been “hysterical”. In some others: “A giant pain in the ass.” And despite understanding the reasons behind why I’m feeling bad, I struggle to escape the intensity while in its grip.
After searching Dr Google, I think I am in the throes of what is described as perimenopause: the years of hormonal imbalance before menopause hits. It’s quite common and – coming off the back of almost a decade of pregnancies, babies, and the trauma of Wayne’s illness and death – it actually feels like a more manageable new life stage than what’s preceded it.
In saying that, I don’t have a decade of mostly good behaviour to fall back on when it comes to starting in on the teenage tantrums. A loving relationship, like a seedling, needs a chance to settle in to new soil before the earthquake hits. Thankfully, there are supplements around to help balance
things a little and today there is an opportunity to go for a run. Away. Then back again.