Sitting in the gynecologist’s office, fidgeting with my outfit. Reading every poster three times. Checking my phone over and over for a non-existent text. Waiting for the results of various tests. And in walks my young, seemingly unscarred-by-the-cruelty-of-life doctor with a file in hand. She sits down across from me with a kind, empathetic smile broadening her face. After a brief greeting, she proceeds to read off my test numbers and levels. My head swims, searching for any clue to know what she is talking about.
All I wanted to know was, “Is there something wrong with me?”
Finally, we get to the result I was most anxious about. She looks me in the eyes, sounding almost excited to deliver the news.
“You have the hormones of a teenager. You are NOT in menopause.”
“No!!! This means I really am crazy???”
Her eyes widen. The smile slips off her face. She clearly was not expecting that reaction.
Probably thinking, “Yes lady, you really are crazy.”
Instead she replies, “We will table that question for right now, but we do have some other results that are possibly making you feel that way.” She then explains that my thyroid hormone is shot, which could contribute to my notions of craziness.
Don’t be offended by my use of the word. Mental illness is a very serious subject that hits close to our home. But in this context, I am referring to the second definition.
senseless; impractical; totally unsound.
Specifically, the feeling that comes when my hormones are out of whack. Which is, by the way, also quite a serious subject.
For years I have joined the rest of the world in the light mockery of PMS. Sure, it is an easy laugh when you see an otherwise pleasant woman have a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde moment. You can whisper to your fellow witnesses, “Must be that time (wink wink).” But in the past few years, things have turned.
Brief moments of flash anger and irritability preceding that “special time” in the past have been replaced by many days (including ovulation days) of dark anxiety.
I didn’t see it at first– actually for a long while. I would just become overwhelmed with intense feelings of loneliness, fear and panic. I’d become convinced that my friends and family no longer loved me, or begin to compile a case as to why we could no longer be together. It was “senseless, impractical and unsound.” But to me, it made plenty of sense. After some months, once my case for rejection was complete, things went much darker with thoughts of driving my car off the road or other fantasies of physical harm.
It wasn’t until I found a safe friendship and began to share what was happening that we began to see the patterns. She too was engaged in her own hormonal battles. Although the things that warred against our minds were different, the feeling of “crazy” was the same. We then started to track each other’s cycles and be aware of certain thought patterns. We now inform each other if we hear the whistle blowing as the crazy train advances down the track.
Sometimes we miss the warnings. The crazy comes. And we have to coach each other through it.
Between starting thyroid medication and my new accountability, things have begun to change- if not for the better, at the least more manageable. It’s been a process. We learned that I personally need encouragement and reassurance once the monthly assault of hormones begins. My friend, however, needs to have time alone– from everyone. (Which is tough when our trains arrive together.) Therefore, I found I needed to open up to other friends too. You see, the devil loses more and more footholds in my mind, the more I share my struggles. The more I shared the more I found out that this struggle is very real to many women. I am speaking to more and more God-fearing/loving women who are struggling even worse. Plagued with fear, insecurities, and thoughts of physical harm all associated with their hormones. Getting older, and all the changes that go with it, as well as other physical problems are wreaking havoc on our bodies and minds.
I urge you, ladies, if you can identify with me and my wackiness do these two things:
1. See your doctor. It turns out I wasn’t hot in menopause, just yet, like my doctor thought. My thyroid was shot. Had my doctor not tested me, I could never have known– I was convinced I was simply allotted the most hellish dose of menopause. However, another friend, same age as me (nope, not telling… just kidding. 49 at the time and haven’t aged a day) was tested also and found she had begun menopause. Or it’s very possible you may be dealing with a hormonal imbalance. Regardless, medication is not a sign of weakness. It is a practical medical solution for a medical problem.
2. You need a person. [insert fun cartoon you draw of a person.] Someone who will stand in the station with you and not let you jump in front of the train. Commit to honesty. If any men are reading this (how dare you… just kidding, so glad to have you here for a moment), and you have seen the symptoms in your wife or lady other-half– pulling away, crying, irritability, etc– don’t mock her. Most of the time, us women don’t see “the crazy” approaching. It hits us full force and then we feel like we are drowning.
Be her lifeguard.
Pray for her (perhaps to yourself).
Encourage her to go out with a friend (if she wants) and speak words full of life.
Most of all, give her grace. Don’t expect her to take all her hormonally-soaked, irrational thoughts and put them in sequential, non-emotional sentences for you to be able to help her process through.
This is a legitimate obstacle that requires real, hard-fought solutions. Although I cling to my mom’s favorite saying “this too shall pass”– in the meantime, go to the doctor, confide in a friend and
l e t ‘ s b e r e a l.
