Patting Myself on the Back for Being Highly Irritable for 46 Years: That Was Smart!

Perimenopause started a couple of months ago, unmistakably, and it’s fantastic so far. The only hard part is deciding which aspect is best: the boiling hot and suddenly erupting rage (thank goodness I ramped up to this by being easily irritated for the previous four and a half decades), the inability to sleep long enough to feel rested, or the uncontrollably gushing blood which soaks multiple feminine hygiene devices and everything else in its path before I can take defensive measures.

That is to say, it is really a big pain, and I’m completely sick of it already. Good thing it doesn’t usually last more than ten years.

Tom and I went to Sacramento last weekend, and we had a really great time. Steve and Julie had a dinner party at their place, and it was truly splendid. (For Chris, the guest list: Steve, Julie, Paul, Eva, Sarah, Dan, Ann, Jim, Melinda, Abby, a friend of Abby’s, Tom, me, John Febbo and his girlfriend, Alison.) The next day, we spent a lovely couple of hours with Ann and Mac. And Sophie!

I didn’t want to spend the whole weekend lecturing my grilling neighbor in my head, so when I meditated Saturday morning before we left for Sacramento by train, I promised myself a grilling-free weekend, and for a good ten minutes, I enjoyed total serenity.

As mentioned, there is some difficulty sleeping in the perimenopausal era. I, who formerly could and often did sleep for 17 hours straight, now frequently wake up way too early—like, three hours too early—not at all rested, and completely wired.

For this condition, Lisa M. recommended a piping hot cup of Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime Extra before bed (i.e., Sleepytime plus heroin or some such). The Sleepytime I had in the cupboard proved to have expired in 2002, so I got some of the turbo-charged kind.

(By chance, I saw the movie Catch and Release lately, which was pretty much one big Celestial Seasonings advertisement, with the characters chatting with each other about the little quotes on the boxes and the camera lingering lovingly on a Celestial Seasonings sign.)

A cup of Sleepytime Extra at bedtime has indeed proven to be soothing. In the same conversation, Lisa recommended a homeopathic remedy from Hyland’s, Calms Forte. I tried it, but found it made me feel a bit jittery. I read some reviews online and found that most reviews were glowing, though not all. In the course of reading the reviews, I came upon mention of Hyland’s Insomnia, so I gave that a try one evening, and within ten minutes, was extremely drowsy, and woke up the next morning only 30 minutes too early, feeling groggy, which is fine. Groggy is better than wired. I’ve got the little bottle under my pillow now, and will see if it helps next time I wake up far too early.

However, Hyland’s Insomnia was indirectly responsible for my serenity of Saturday morning ending after only ten minutes, because when I called my mother to tell her about it, my long distance provider, OneSuite, played me a recording saying my account had expired, and in moments, I was on the phone telling a hapless customer service person, “This is [unprintable unprintable].”

I didn’t call her any names per se, and I did soon switch to utterances that I consider to be allowable when necessary, which is descriptions of my evolving mental state, employing “I” statements only, as in, “I am ENRAGED right now,” and so forth.

OneSuite doesn’t care if you have money left in your account, as I did, and they don’t care if you used your service two days prior, as I likely had. If you don’t give them more money every six months, they turn off your account, though they don’t confiscate your money. It seems to me that giving them $10 every two months and two days is the same thing as giving them $30 every six months and six days—except three times the aggravation for me—but they don’t care.

I must say that their customer service people demonstrated Zenlike calm. The first person I talked to offered to un-expire my account. “No, I don’t want you to do that!” I said. “I am canceling this account. I am really, really, REALLY angry right now.” They readily agreed to send me back the remaining money in my account, and I hung up and sent two grumpy emails to their management (or, more likely, to no one at all; those emails probably go straight into the trash).

Then I emailed those I speak to most frequently via long distance to tell them they wouldn’t be hearing from me until I found a new long distance company. Then I looked online for thirty seconds for a new long distance provider whose rates are as low as OneSuite’s.

And then I called OneSuite back and begged them to reinstate my account. I told them I was impressed at their courteous handling of my irate earlier call. My voice was kind of raspy by then. I cleared my voice and apologized, adding, “See, I can barely talk after all that screaming,” and if I am not mistaken, the customer service person allowed herself a gentle chuckle.