Posted in Chronicles of The Country Girl Experiment

OH what a world……

     The sky’s are turning dark.  There is an touch of grief, sadness and chaos in the air that I can feel physically.  I open my eyes to see the light coming through the blinds, filtering through the art table to touch my cheeks. I am angry at this light for invading my only solitude. Sleep, my friend is gone now. I am alone with the weight  of the world.  I waddle out of my room to the kitchen. The children take one look at me and scatter to their rooms.  Even they can see the impending doom. I start to cry and remind myself what a terrible mother I am to create such an heir of fear. Then it occurs to me that they have put me through enough, they deserve it. I am mad again.
      I try to make coffee and curse the coffee maker for it’s slow drip. My Husband walks in the door and says cheerfully ” Good Morning, Beautiful.” I look him dead in the eye and say ” what do you mean by that?!” He backs out the door and disappears into the dreary morning.     I pour my coffee and start to drink. Nasty! So I pour 3 more spoons  of sugar and  some chocolate syrup into it, grab a handful of cake and head to the front porch. I sit in the sun and watch the animals. I think about how it happened that my life turned out this way. I cry. Again. I am so depressed. I have no friends. My Marriage is over. My kids are rotten.  My House is dirty and can never be cleaned. I am bloated- I must have a tumor.  I am tired of being a servant. I have wasted my entire life. Look at the pretty flowers….. I am sure they are going to die soon.  What is this pain? I must have some disease.   
      It suddenly occurs to me that if I fill my rubber boots with water, put them on and walk out and grab the electric fence- perhaps it would serve as some sort of electro-shock treatment. I finish my cake and take a gulp of my coffee and resolve myself to the boots.
                                                     Then I hear it.
 A voice. Am I nuts? No- this really is the voice of God. God is speaking to me. Me! such a vapor- so insignificant- so little and God is speaking to me. I cry out to Him in my anguish. And He replies in a strong, manly voice.  ” Sweet Sharon,( and I am using the term lightly here) , Before you walk out to your doom, I have a suggestion. TAKE THE MIDOL. This has happened to you every single month, for nearly 30 years now. You have an industrial sized bottle by your bed. I layed it on your husbands heart to put it there.  I am going to suggest that you plan for this. Yes, Yes… let me apologize for Eve.  But you can’t blame Eve for messing up YOUR family once a month, every month. Just do it. Your entire family wants you to walk out to that fence. I hear their prayers.” Then there is silence. That was my profound talk with God.     PMS. It happens every month. I know its coming, I have drugs for it and yet it overtakes me before I realize what is happening. I think these really are my feelings and thoughts. I think this really is my life.  After I have tortured my husband, my children, the world for three days, it occurs to me, I might have PMS.
  Here’s the conversation with my  ever vigilant hubby.
 ” I haven’t felt good for  a few days”
 ” I know”
” I think I might have PMS”
 ” According to the calendar……,,,, I have to go to town, do you need anything? Maybe something in a bottle or a box?”
 ” Whiskey and Chocolate?”
 “No- something more medicinal.”
 “How come your going to town now?”
 ” I have some errands to run.”
 ” How can you leave me here alone with the kids when I might have a tumor?”
 ” The kids can call 911 if you perch flop on the floor”
 ” You don’t care if I have PMS do you… or a tumor”
 ” Oh I care”
 ” What about the whiskey and Chocolate?” He ignores me.
I ask ” where are the kids”
 ” In the barn- I set them up an ice chest and some snacks. They felt like you needed some time alone”
 ” That was nice of them.” ”  They said you were having a break down over the cabinet doors being left open and that it was really important to you to have the toilet paper rolls replaced. After your 35 minute lecture about it, they figured you were really tired. And Jessie ate the last twinkie, so he’s scared. “
 ” He ate my twinkie?”
 ” Nope”
     And so it goes until I take the midol and find light and love and relief and then… It begins again.  My husband and family love me any way.       I have 7 daughters.  All but 2 are PMS age.  My husband  is going to heaven.   He buys midol by the case.
(My granddaughter, Maddy)

Author:

Hi! Sharon here! I am a self taught Mixed Media artist on a mission to share the joy, the fun and the healing powers of art. And maybe a few artistic shenanigans along the way. i am a certified Artis4every1 instructor and I create art for sale here in my studio.

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