Dear PMS, I should've listened to you. You never lie, do you?
Ever since you started, I've been the "Angry PMSer." Some women get weepy; I get mad.
The older I got, the madder I got. My sweet darlin' husband became my scapegoat. He bore it all gracefully, mildly commenting that "PMS" stands for "Piss on Man Syndrome." That always made me chuckle, in spite of myself.
How I wish I'd listened to you, dear PMS. You were trying to tell me something.
One time I heard that menopause is the last chance a woman has to straighten out whatever isn't right in her life. It's her last time of insight into the reality that "all is not well in the kingdom."
I wonder, dear PMS, if you aren't a microcosm of that concept. My anger may actually be an insight into truth. A chance to address the pain from growing up in a multi-generational narcissistic family. For decades, I ignored what you were trying to tell me. Well, I didn't have much of a choice actually. Only sunshine and smiles were allowed while I was the narcissists' hostage.
How I wish I'd listened to you, dear PMS. You were trying to tell me something. In her "Love Letter to My Anger," author Barbara Rogers eloquently expressed what I'm trying to say:
My dearest anger!
There are people who tell me that I may not feel you. They judge you as if you were something bad that I must get rid of. They suggest that I am resentful when I experience you and must release you in order to have "inner peace" and "be healed." They make me feel as if you are something wrong, disgusting, even evil that turns me into an unforgiving monster.
They do not want to know about you and WHY I am angry. They are not interested in what I feel. Instead, they give me advice and lecture me. They are afraid to listen to you and understand what you are all about, so they judge you when you appear within or around them and believe that takes care of the problem you pose for them.
In my childhood, a ferocious war was fought against you, which forced me to ban you from my soul and emotional repertoire. Later, I continued this fight against you by myself because I wanted to be as "good and forgiving" -- perfect -- as everyone expected me to be...This was another essential reason why I silenced you. It gave me headaches and other physical symptoms, even illnesses -- or I felt miserable, confused, upset and could not sleep. Shutting you out turned me into a servile, submissive slave without her own, true voice who could not speak up and who had no power over her life....
Used by permission of Barbara Rogers from her highly recommended site: www.screamsfromchildhood.com
The more I listen to your message, dear PMS, the more you drift away. The more my heart heals, the more mild you become. I don't have to numb you out with St. Johns Wort, Kava Kava Root or other calming herbs quite as much. The more I acknowledge the issues causing my anger, the more you just cease to exist.
Goodbye, PMS. You fought the good fight to help me see the truth. And should you pop in for a visit now and then, I'll shut up and listen to what you have to say.
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