Monday, May 21, 2007


I had me a regular hissy fit yesterday, a full out mental breakdown complete with screaming, crying, and a sick stomach. I did not have a particular reason for this sudden descent into my primal bitch nature. It just popped out, a rapid escalation of a minor event, from 0 to screaming bitch in 60 seconds. In a way, it reminded me of the hot temper I had when younger, before the Great Depression, when I lived a life on the cracked crust of a volcanic lake that spit lava and scalding steam any ol' time, no warning at all. Only this was more of a purgative. I felt afterwards a great deal like I'd vomited up a lot of (emotional) toxic stuff.

I still felt like I had vomited. Lucky for me I didn't. Vomiting is something I do shortly before I'm about to go to the emergency room and scare people by almost dying. I'd just as soon not.

The poor Husband had to stand there and take it all. After a few attempts to scream back at me, I simply outscreamed him. All that singing training, you know. I can really use my diaphragm to support my voice so it can be heard in the back row. I figure it's at least a portion of why my stomach felt so sick. It was, like, exercise.

It could also be a variation on my usual PMS symptoms, since I am now definately pre-menopausal and not really looking forward to the slow dissolution of my body into that of a "mature" female. The clues point in that direction -- giant zit on my chin and a show coming up this weekend. However, without descending into the gory details, the scheduling is otherwise off. So, I don't know.

Which is sort of like being 14 again. So far, this whole pre-menopausal thing has been like going through adolescence backwards, except I don't come out on the otherwise with dewy pure skin and 20/20 vision. I get all the mood swings, the sensations of not being at one with my physical self, the uncertainty, the painful cramping and the bad skin, that I had during those early adolescent years. On the positive side, I already have a good idea of what's happening, and I'm not mortified to buy feminine hygiene products at the grocery store anymore.

I just hope the Husband can survive it.

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