PMS is hard. I’m sitting here in my living room, cuddled up with my knees to my chest, wrapped in a blanket. I’m staring at our beautiful Christmas tree and all I want to do is cry. The tears fall quietly down my cheeks and burn my dry lips. Not wanting to give in to the despair, I make myself think of ten things I’m thankful for and I count them on my fingers. I’m thankful for blue sky (rare in December). Christmas ornament from moms’ night (reminds me of my friends). House is clean (well, at least part of it). Dinner is sandwiches (I don’t have to be in the kitchen cooking right now). Fake Christmas tree (doesn’t suffer from not being watered). And so I count, and try to discern how much to let myself feel the sorrow and discouragement and how much to work at directing my thoughts to be positive.

Why don’t we talk more about premenstrual syndrome? There should be a book: The Christian Woman’s Guide to PMS. What am I to do with this irritation, anger, sadness? How do I explain why my husband is suddenly the most irritating person on the planet, and all I can think about is everything he does wrong, including what he wore today and how much food he ate at lunch? How do I talk to my kids about why mom randomly starts snapping at them about nothing and crying about everything? Yesterday my five year old asked if I was on my period. She also suggested I take a nap, and told me she was sorry I’m stressed. I’m grateful for her kindness, but regretful that it is needed.

Is this my monthly reminder that I’m human? At this season in my life I have enough daily reminders of my brokenness that I’d gladly skip a monthly parading of all my sins before me (and everyone else’s sins). I don’t have any answers, but I am comforted by knowing God loves me and sees the best in me, even when my healthy self has hidden in the shadows. I don’t have any answers, but if you too are discouraged by the ride your hormones are taking you on, may you find comfort in knowing this: you are fully known and fully loved by God, and there is another wondering woman suffering along with you.