Author: Aimee

It's funny how anger feels when it is bottled up. Sometimes I imagine my chest is a mason jar and the heat of my emotions just continually push, condense, drip and reform inside the glass walls. That is how I have been feeling lately. Trapped inside my jar. I know part of all this is perimenopause; slowly creeping in, at least five years earlier than I imagined it would. If you have been through this fantastic stage of life, you understand how anger stays on the fringes of everything. Chipping a nail now becomes something that makes your blood boil. Your child making the most normal child-being-a-child comment makes you wonder why you ever wanted to be a mother. Then, add shifts in friendship, pressure at work... and a general feeling that there is nowhere to go with these feelings.