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That Time My Hubby Told Me to "Just Bleed Already"

Before I begin this, I should let you know that now that I've been in menopause for 4 months, I feel a little more stable and I'm not as moody anymore.  After that little bout of sadness back in September when I realized that my child-bearing years were over, things have gradually gotten better.  For the most part, there is no more sadness or anger.  But before I hit full-blown menopause???
                                        THIS is what was happening.


There are times during perimenopause when you don't quite have a handle on your emotions, your feelings, your temperament.    About 6 months before I finally hit the end of perimenopause, or if you want to say it another way, 6 months before I hit full-blown menopause, I had moods. . . . . yeah, let's call them moods.

They were not good moods.  They were dark, angry moods.  They were . . . pulling the fiber of my being as tight as it could go before breaking moods.  Those moods when you are so far on edge that absolutely nothing seems like it's going right and nothing makes you happy.  In fact EVERYTHING does quite the opposite of making you happy.  The tension.  Good grief, the tension.   Like your mood is a tiny little string that's fraying in the middle and just holding on by that small little thread and you can see it fraying even more until the point when it just breaks and then there's nothing to hold onto and you fall over backwards.  But, when you fall. . . . . you just want to lie there. . . and maybe the floor would just swallow you up so that you don't have to hear anyone else breathe anymore.  Because even the sound of other people breathing is enough to send you over the damn edge.  You know those moods when the "F" word is your best friend, even when you never usually use that word in your everyday language, but for some reason, it just makes sense with what you're going through and it seems to pop into your head more than it ever has in your life, because. . . . .grrrrr

I was having a week like that.  Apparently.  Because that man. . . . . yes, that man who calls himself my husband. . . .opened his mouth and said,

"Why don't you just bleed already?"  or get up in there and scratch that stuff out.  

and my face, it looked like

And if you can believe it. . . . . my head did not go flying off my body.  It is in fact, still attached now.

And my husband is still alive. 

I'm not sure how, because I was standing in the kitchen with lots of pointy, sharp objects at my disposal.

But we somehow both survived.

And the moods,
they subsided.

I, in fact, did NOT just bleed already.  Ever again. It had been 6 months since the last time I had, and I never would again.

Time passed.

Moods got better.. . . . . . . well, until that sadness in September, but in July we renewed our wedding vows and celebrated our 15 year anniversary.  We survived the raging hormones from perimenopause. . . . . . . . and his reactions to them. . .

Now, we're dealing with other issues, but at least for the most part, the moods have evened out. 

And that's good.  Because on most days, I kinda like my hubby.


  1. Oh I just love this post and so pleased to have found you on Instagram. It's that cockatoo hair!!!!Now to read some more of your posts. What fun! I have been resisting the blogging world because so much of it is boring but not you!! I just started a blog on

    1. Haha! The cockatoo hair! Thanks for your kind words. :) I'll stop on over and say hi. You are amazing by the way!


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