One Hot Bitch

I have officially reached that point in the summer when I become one hot bitch.

It happens every year. By mid/late July, I feel smothered — by the weather and the people around me. I struggle just as much with the constant mess, clutter, and noise that comes from having everyone home as I do with the oppressive heat and humidity. I am not pleasant to be around. I’d like to say I’m just a little bit salty, but most of the time, I’m down right mean.

I’m self-aware enough to know that I am the problem most of the time, not my kids/husband or the heat (although the penises in my house can be real assholes sometimes). As the song goes, “It’s me. Hi, I’m the problem, it’s me … ”

And yes, just as Taylor sings, “Everybody agrees …”

Thanks to midlife hormones, autoimmune dysregulation, and childhood trauma/PTSD, I’m pretty moody year-round. Add in a summertime heatwave and my mood seems to swing in only one direction.

Last week, it was particularly hot and humid where I live. I was off the charts mean, raging pretty much 24/7. Everything and everyone — especially those living with me — set me off.

It wasn’t pretty and I’m not proud, but I am owning it.

Fortunately, I’m self-aware enough to know when I’m being a total bitch. Unfortunately, I’m just not aware in the moment, in time to course correct.

Self-regulation isn’t something I’m good at yet, but I’m working on it. In the meantime, the best I can do is modulate after a blowup with a good workout, some rage cleaning, and a bit of alone time to calm down and reset before apologizing and pledging to do better next time … And by “next time,” I mean September or October, when the weather cools down because August can be a real bitch, just like me, so I can’t make any promises.