Apocalyptic Periods are the Devil and Why Being a Woman Sucks Sometimes
It’s 6:30 am and I’m sitting on the balcony. I’ve just polished off a coffee. The sun continues to slowly rise and my face becomes more golden by the minute, though I’m not at all bothered by the brightness in my eyes. The sun’s warmth bathes me. I hear chirping birds all around as the neighborhood stirs awake.
I don’t remember feeling this calm in a great long while. It’s actually quite strange. Just a couple days ago I couldn’t sleep and my thoughts were like a changing radio station and I wasn’t in control of the dial. I barked at my own husband (though I quickly apologized for my juvenile conduct) and felt like the world was crashing all around me.
But now that adrenaline flush has dwindled down and my mind is like calm morning water.
I often wonder about the hormonal and neurological basis of mood and behavior. I’m perplexed by the relationship between determinism and indeterminism. It’s undeniable how my body may make me more inclined to choose to act a particular way, but with enough willpower I can overcome these triggers. However, I’m lucky enough to be aware that I have a choice and I’m not just simply left to the whims of my impulses.
For more context, I’m on my period. Jokes aside, yes women really are a bit more neurotic during certain times of their cycle. My husband has memorized the entire schedule to the dot. Perhaps you’re surprised by his sharp intuition regarding something he’ll never experience as a man, since he can tell me exactly which day I’ll start my period. I wouldn’t be surprised if intelligent men learned this as a coping mechanism for survival. Like, he knows to buy chocolate at wholesale amounts when it becomes critical.