My hormones, after kinda-sorta behaving themselves for the past couple of months, are acting up (to put it mildly) again and I am having a tough (to put it mildly) PMS season as I type this out. I know that my anxiety is hormonal and not merely a response to some life issues that I am currently facing, because the dreams are back. A couple of nights back, I dreamt that I was injecting a drug into a gaping, open, bloody wound in the arms of my kid. A faceless doctor insists that I must be the one to inject, and thrusts a large syringe (the kind used on cows in a farm) into my hand to be used on a gnash from which blood is gushing. As I inject the drug, the the medicine and the blood are reabsorbed into the body in what looks like a reverse video sequence, leaving an open, dry wound. Needless to add, writing about it is making my stomach lurch.
Last night, I was in labor. I reach the hospital to see it abandoned. I run from room to room as contraction after contraction engulf me, and finally find a room in which my neighbour (who in the dream is a medical doctor) is sleeping on a bare wooden bench. I wake him and he panics seeing a very pregnant woman apparently covered in blood and runs away. And then another lady (I can’t remember who it was) comes in, calls herself a doctor, and pricks my belly with a pin. Air hisses out of the tummy as it inflates like a punctured tire, and she sends me back home saying there is no baby, only air.
If that ain’t hormones, I’ll eat my hat. If I have one, that is.
I have also been unable to meditate. Instead of forcing it I am just going to give it a break until the mental violence settles a bit.
I’d do anything to be a man during these times. At least no progesterone/estrogen see saw to mess with the head.
These are also times I am extremely grateful to a couple of my girl friends and my cousin, who hear me out without judging and offer me a vent so that I don’t explode all around and cause damage.
And my blog readers for not judging me. Wait, you are not judging me, are you?
Two women have inspired me in the recent past. One was the house guest I had around Christmas time. She works in an IT company and is single parenting a son (husband works in a different city and visits every weekend) and described how she optimises her chores so that she is out of the house by 7.30 AM.
Another hyper-energetic friend I know from the kid’s school, is a stay at home mom, running a joint family that includes her parents-in-law, stock marketing husband, and two daughters. Being passionate about religious literature, she finishes her home chores by the time her husband and children are out of the house (~8 AM) and spends the rest of the day working on her hobby.
Both efficient women are a stark antithesis to me. I’d love to be like them. But there is a large gap between intention and action. Today, I tried completing my chores by the time the kid was out to school and managed about 90% which is 90% more than what I normally accomplish. So, there could be hope yet.
The plus side is that my kid has taken it upon herself to wake early (6 AM, midnight to her) in order to study for her exams and finish reading the Hithhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, to which she is hooked (I am hooked to Lord of the Rings, if you must know). This makes getting ready to school less stressful and rushed for both of us. I hope this trend continues in our household. Although, if she is anything like me (and she is), it is just a passing phase. We both value our morning sleep too much to let mundane things like life intrude into it.
Did anyone watch Season 4 of the new Sherlock Holmes? Did you live to tell the tale? Apparently I have, but barely. Seriously, what the frack?