My husband, Jake, is nursing a beer on the edge of our couch, his fingers tightly gripping the bottle as if it were his lifeline. His expression reads a mix of disbelief and bewilderment. Meanwhile, I’m pacing back and forth, my arms flailing and tears streaming down my face. Truth be told, I have no clue what I’m ranting about; this emotional rollercoaster began an hour ago, entirely fueled by my own feelings.
Most of our arguments during this time of the month revolve around his perceived lack of romantic gestures, our dwindling intimacy, or him forgetting something crucial. Ironically, while I’m passionately unloading my feelings on Jake, I overlook something significant myself.
I conclude my one-sided monologue with three explosive sentences that manage to infuriate my husband while also providing some secret relief for him. These words always slip out, and I instantly regret them. Yet, month after month, I find myself saying them again without fail: “I can’t keep living like this! I’m finished! I want a DIVORCE!”
This is when Jake gives me “the look.” It’s his silent way of conveying that any words he might say now would only lead to more chaos.
Being the intelligent man he is, Jake knows just how to respond. He immediately apologizes for whatever has upset me, reassures me of his love, and then falls silent for the rest of the night. Predictably, his quietness only escalates my irrationality, sending me into a full meltdown. I end up curled in bed alone, sobbing until I drift off to sleep.
The next day, Jake gently broaches the topic that’s been on his mind since my dramatic outburst. He knows to approach it softly to avoid triggering my defensiveness.
“Honey…”
“What?”
“Well, I think maybe…”
“WHAT?”
“I think… you might be about to start your period.”
I try to brush it off and switch topics, but deep down, I’m grappling with discomfort. How can he, who knows nothing about menstruation, so easily predict my cycle? Am I wearing a sign that says “PMS Alert”?
The frustrating part is that he is always right. Jake can accurately sense when my period is approaching before I can, and it drives me crazy.
It seems I am incredibly predictable in this regard; I tend to threaten divorce a few days before my monthly cycle begins. Jake has become adept at recognizing the signs, as this is the only time when my catastrophic thinking brings us alarmingly close to a genuine crisis.
This past year, my diagnosis of complex PTSD has compounded my emotional turbulence, making me feel like a bundle of PMS-induced anxiety. Since I often lose track of my cycle, these dramatic episodes seem to strike out of nowhere—much to Jake’s dismay.
However, there’s a silver lining. Jake’s newfound skill in recognizing the signs of my impending emotional turmoil allows him to step in and help mitigate the chances of the word “divorce” escaping my lips. He checks in frequently, offers bear hugs, and makes sure to have my favorite snacks and drinks handy—essentially treating me like he did when I was pregnant.
Honestly, Jake has become my hero in these moments, exhibiting remarkable patience and compassion. His proactive approach to managing my pre-period crises has helped me feel a tad calmer when the inevitable urge to freak out arises.
I’m seriously considering getting him a special cape, perhaps in red, as a humorous nod to his unique ability to forecast my emotional storms.
In summary, while PMS can bring out the worst in me, Jake’s understanding and support make the process more manageable. His proactive measures not only help stave off my dramatic declarations of divorce but also reinforce the strength of our bond during tough times.
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