Welcome to can’t relate, a newsletter from me, Maria Del Russo, that I write biweekly on Fridays. If you were sent this newsletter by a friend (such an excellent friend) or clicked through this link via my social channels, then you can also subscribe by clicking below.
xx MDR
It’s 2022, kids, and we’re off to the races with chaotic newsletters! But that’s what you signed up for! That’s showbiz, baby!
One of the most frustrating parts about *gestures widely at the chaos of adulthood* is that I sometimes feel bound by the unpredictability of my emotions. Take this morning, for example. I’m writing this newsletter at 6:45 AM on January 3. I got home yesterday afternoon from a long weekend upstate. I woke up this morning to a clean house, a stocked fridge, and my yoga mat unrolled and ready for me to bend on it for 40 minutes. (Which I did! Hooray!) I was feeling great! It’s a New Year! Everything felt very calm and peaceful! Look at me, a single, independent, 31-year-old woman with her shit together!!
Then why am I sitting here, less than 20 minutes after I rolled up my yoga mat, quietly crying into my iced coffee while I try to parse through how I’m feeling via this newsletter? If I’m being truly honest with myself, what I’m feeling is loneliness. We’re staring down the barrel of another long, uncertain winter, but this time I’m by myself—in this not-quite-done-yet apartment without a partner—and that feels shitty this morning.
So I cry. And the crying makes me feel worse, because I’m proud of the progress I’ve made in the past year. I’m proud of the security I’ve found within myself. I’m proud of my decisions to leave unhappy and unhealthy relationships instead of just sitting in them to try and thwart the exact feeling I’m feeling now. Shouldn’t I be over the crying? Shouldn’t I be over the loneliness? Shouldn’t I be blasting Candi Stanton belting out Young Hearts Run Free in my underwear like I did in my empty apartment when I first moved in, because I felt thrilled, and young, and sexy, and fucking freeeeeeeeee of the weight that had pinned me down for months?! What the fuck?!?
And then something tells me to check my period tracker. It informs me that I am three days out from the start of my next cycle. Ding ding ding!!
This exact scenario happens to me every 27 days, on average. And part of me is even hesitant to write this freakin’ newsletter, because not only does it feel really frivolous to complain about a situation that half the population goes through, but it also feeds into negative stereotypes that misogynists have been propagating forever. Don’t give her the nuclear codes! The menstruation will cause her to lose her fucking marbles and blow us up! But NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT. So guess what I’m gonna do?
I’m not saying that everything that I’m feeling today is only about my hormones. Those feelings are always there, lurking just out of my consciousness. But I’m typically able to cope with them in mostly-healthy ways that don’t involve a minor emotional collapse. I’ve got the therapy bills to prove it. And yet I rarely realize the timing of the intensity until I’m scream-crying on the phone to my long-suffering mother because I can’t find a desk for my workspace and it means I’m an absolute baby child because real adults are settled into their spaces after six months what is wrong with me?!?!?!?!
Now a more enlightened person than myself would actually see this as a conquerable situation. If you know it’s just biology, you can ignore it and keep moving, right? We see the big red dot on our calendar, and then we’re meant to just accept it as an explanation of our feelings and move on. But I haven’t quite yet gotten over the idea that a step backwards emotionally is just that — a step back. No matter how many coffee mugs and art prints and affirmations I read espousing the mental nugget that “healing isn’t linear,” I’m not comfortably in that belief yet. I’ll get there one day, maybe. But for now, it’s no dice.
So what does one do when they realize that their hormones are wrecking their life? Well, it’s not perfect, but here’s what I find to be the most comforting:
I accept the fact that this is just the day I’m going to be having today, and that’s fine! Tomorrow, or this afternoon, I will feel better.
I dress in soft things—some leggings, a thick pair of socks, the softest sweater I own. NO hard pants. My reasoning is that if I can’t be comfortable emotionally, I’ll try to be comfortable physically.
I move. Whether it’s a walk, a couple of quick sun salutations, or just turning on the previously-mentioned Candi Stanton record and dancing around in my underwear. A little movement always makes me feel better.
I don’t deny myself. If I feel like crying, I cry. If I want to eat pasta for lunch, I eat pasta for lunch. I allow myself external indulgences without guilt, because I’m feeling enough at the moment, and my only job for the day is feeling like myself again.
I try to return to my breathing. It’s hard, because my mind thoughts tend to scatter in moments like this. But when I can remember to breathe, I take a few seconds and do just that.
I lather, rinse, and repeat through this until I’m feeling less sad, and less like my uterus is out to kill me. Perfectly normal isn’t the goal, but somewhere on the spectrum of “fine” is, well, fine.
It’s hard to be inside your own mind when you feel like it’s running around like some kind of drunk animal with a knife in its mouth. That’s the real struggle here. I’m in a place where, sometimes, I want to just have some semblance of control over my brain, my emotions, and myself. But it seems my life lately has been about learning to relinquish control. Periods! They teach us how little control we often have over our lives and our selves!
Or maybe they just teach us that sometimes it’s okay to cry on the couch in sweatpants while spooning with a bowl of rigatoni. Either/or, I’m hopeful I’ll learn the lesson eventually.
This week’s trio
Firstly and most importantly, my dear, darling BFF Hannah Baxter launched her own newsletter, Anxiety Beer. In it, she discusses things like mental health, beauty, career, and, of course, beer. Go subscribe and tell her I sent ya!
I spent New Year’s up in Woodstock in this very cute house right outside of town. If you visit and want a hike, 10/10 recommend the Overlook Mountain Trail. It’s uphill basically the whole way, but takes you past the burnt-out ruins of the Overlook Mountain Lodge, which is spooky and gorgeous and very cool.
It’s cold enough in NYC that it’s officially soup season! This recipe for white bean soup is amazingly yummy. I whip up a batch whenever I have a can of cannellini beans rolling around in my pantry.
xxMDR
This happened to me this week as well, RIP us. I never even notice until I'm thinking to myself "today's been a real rollercoaster of emotions!" from grinning because a song is playing that you kind of like to being deeply upset and feeling unlovable because someone didn't text you back immediately -- time to check the calendar, take a deep breath, go to bed and try again tomorrow. Thanks for talking about it! Definitely felt less alone in the monthly struggle.
Oh, Maria! Just finished reading this while also having a "random" bout of crying. I relate so hard to both "This exact scenario happens to me every 27 days, on average." and "Periods! They teach us how little control we often have over our lives and our selves!" This was beautifully written - hope you have a warm and gentle weekend.