I think it totally has to do with anxiety. And worry. And stress. Definitely the stress.
It all started cropping up shortly after I weaned myself (read without doctor supervision) my anti-anxiety drug. Okay, granted…I was only taking half of the normal dose, but still. I don’t believe in coincidence. But I’m not a doctor (I just play one on my blog).
Something really funny happened this afternoon.
The Beast My Girl came home from practice tonight and slowly walked up the stairs. The epitome of a teenager…feet dragging…lots of sighing. Loud sighing.
I finally said, “okay, I give…what’s up?”
“No, really, something. What’s up? Bad practice?”
“Trouble in paradise?”
I dunno. I have really just felt like crying all day today.
“Well, then, CRY! Just because your momma would never cry and still to this very minute of this very day hates to let anyone even KNOW she cries let alone lets them SEE her cry why girlfriend that shouldn’t stop YOU from crying because the Good Lord KNOWS that I do NOT want you to be like ME!”
Okay, that totally long run-on sentence that could have been two paragraphs…I did not say that. Out loud. But inside…oh yeah baby…I was saying it.
She came into my room. Stood there. Wringing her hands. Lip all a quiverin’. And it dawned on me.
She had it, too.
After a lengthy, non-scientific discussion on how it seemed to us that God created PMS in order to preserve the human race (you don’t even want to know how we got THERE), we both felt better.
A short while later, she and I got into the mini-van (I’m ready for a sporty upgrade, fyi) and waited on Trey (the older boyfriend) to get in.
Her eyes met mine in the rear view mirror (just call me Chauffeur Mom) and we both started laughing.
Poor Trey…he won’t even know what hit him.