Published in The Siskiyou, May 8, 2006, as "The Dirty Secret of Women"

Women have a dirty little secret. It’s called hormones. We all experience them to varying degrees but no one wants to talk about it. Maybe I’m a little slow, but it took me a few years past puberty to realize that my unnerving mood change had a steady culprit—That once a month I would cling to my boyfriend with alarming desperation or feel as though the entire world was one blissful family unit while I stood alone, alienated, on the other side. If most women experience this, why do we feel we have to hide it under the rug?

Maybe it’s because relationships seem to be built on power. Whether we like to admit it or not, we’re drawn to people who are just a little bit out of reach. If someone continually pushes themselves into our radar, demanding attention, it’s only natural that our response will be one of retreat. I denied this for a long time. It’s not fun to admit that power plays into things when my Strawberry Shortcake self thinks that “power” is an ugly word and should have no place in a relationship. Yet, as I point fingers at those who play this game of “cat and mouse,” I can’t help but realize that I’m an equal participant.

My closest friends are the ones I don’t hear from daily, the ones who make plans with me not because they can’t live without me but because they happily choose to include me in their busy lives. When someone I admire for his or her independence suddenly starts demanding too much of my time, I retreat. I feel bad for doing it, but I do it just the same. Come on, admit it: When someone takes awhile to respond back to an email or return a phone call, don’t you appreciate that email or phone call just a little bit more when it’s finally received? And if someone is continually at your doorstep, don’t you suddenly long for your days of isolation?

While admitting that power is an unavoidable relational tool, I’m still not comfortable holding such a fireball, as if hugging it to my chest would turn me into someone I despise. This is especially true during that annoying week of every month when I become a needy mess, demanding reassurance from those I love. Nonchalance is a hard thing to maintain when your hormones are telling you that all you hold dear is about to slip away from you and that the only way to maintain your grasp is to fall at your feet in surrender. During these times logic loses all influence and past experience means nothing. A silent phone means rejection and all emails seem to contain a secret message of “I don’t love you anymore.” Am I being melodramatic? Maybe. Am I, in reality, alone in regards to this feminine affliction? Perhaps. But I’m going to take the chance that there’s someone out there nodding her head, thinking, “You mean I’m not the only one?!”

Copyright © 2005 Shannon Luders-Manuel