Barometric Pressure

I was telling someone recently what it means to be weather sensitive. I discovered this about myself years ago when I noticed four children all crabby at the same time while a crabby mother reacts. It always seemed to happen on rainy days. At first I blamed the fact that they could not go out to play or because the sky was grey, but when I checked it out, I found that the barometric pressure is the culprit.

In my case, a lowering pressure, often before the rain, means a queezy stomach, aches in my  joints, and edginess. Not a good day to work out marriage problems. Once the rains come, relief comes with it. A rising pressure means sleepiness and sometimes a headache. It sucks to be sleepy when the sun finally comes out after days of rain. While everyone else is out playing I am napping.

Yesterday was a rising pressure day. I took two naps, the second during the dinner hour. Then I had to drag my bag around to get through supper and dishes. Bernie asked me if I was mad about something. No, I told him. He asked me two or three times more until I got mad at him for asking. I went to bed at 8:30 and fell asleep before I got through two pages of my book. I woke up this morning at 7:30: 12 hours of sleep. My reaction to the change in weather seems normal for me and sometimes inconvenient. It is something I have learned to live with over the years.

I learned something new this time though, that I hadn’t noticed in the past. I found myself hungry through the whole ordeal. Starting at about 4  pm, I ate  until my head hit the pillow. I ate half a (large) bag of Doritos at 4:30 and it went downhill from there. I started to think about the chocolate candy my daughter had given me for Mothers Day. After taking a few too many, I gave them to my granddaughter to get them away from my addicted self. But yesterday, after the Doritos, I regretted this and thought maybe I could sneak into her bedroom and find them. Unfortunately, Maddie was in the kitchen when I went down to Kate’s house. “You sure are getting tall,” I said. I wanted to ask her if there were any candies left, but I was not ready to share my state with her. Nor was I ready to show Emma my madness when I picked her up from school and wanted to stop at the grocery store for chicken wings.

You might say I was saved by my shame. A good thing, too, because the barometric pressure is steady now and I feel safe again. Rather than  regretting the Doritos, I am appreciating the fact that I did not eat candy and chicken wings.