Do buy yourself flowers.

So, dear reader. I faced the darkness today and made a beginning of what I had been so carefully avoiding. And there was this moment at the start when the future seemed to flash before my eyes: I was sitting in a far away city by a large window in the sky, my desk strewn with papers. So true and real was this vision of the future, that it caused this welling up inside me of glee and bliss; like an exuberant embrace.

Yet, everything seemed to go downhill from there.

If you are a woman reading this, you are well aware that there’s a time in the month when women of a certain age don’t quite see things with the same eyes that they usually do. (And if you are a man reading this, you may have had your own unique experience of what it’s like to receive that “alternate point of view.”) I don’t really mind telling you that this monthly state of female biology is probably 60% responsible for the glumness and grey that I felt all day today (Wednesday, the day that I am writing this.) The other 40% is made up of the general melange of usual suspects.

Plus, this digital marketing campaign I’ve embarked on is getting my goat! Never have I felt so frustrated and overwhelmed at once, frowning into the rectangular glass in the palm of my hand. I seem to all of a sudden have the weight of the world on my shoulders, but maybe I can channel this predicament into some sort of a PSA:

The emotional ties that come with a woman’s new cycle may differ from cycle to cycle, but chances are she’s feeling lonely and abandoned, and any number of challenging things, inexplicably and with much convincing from her head. If you have such a woman living in your house with you, it is my strong recommendation that you tell her she is radiant and inspiring, and then make her a cup of tea and give her a great, big hug without letting go for a while. 

These are the days when I am usually my own bearer of compliments, and maker of cups of tea. Sometimes at work, I am unfortunate enough to hear that popular song about how the heroine can do all of the things for herself so much better than her ex-lover could, including holding her “own hand,” which is not only inaccurate, it’s stupid.

No, you can’t hold your own hand, because your brain knows what you’re doing. It’s not the hand of another, and you can’t trick yourself into that, as far as I know, though I’d never want to try. You might as well say that you can kiss your own mouth and have that be better than the kiss from a beloved, which is also inaccurate and foolish. Some gestures were made to be shared between people, even chemically.

And while I can make a very fine cup of tea, I will keep the hand-holding and even the hugging for another day, when I’ve someone to keep me company who tells me I’m radiant and inspiring, and hugs me without letting me go.