Why You Want to Burn the House Down Over a Dinner Question
And what it's actually trying to tell you
You’re standing in the kitchen. Someone asks what’s for dinner.
And suddenly you want to burn the whole house down.
Not metaphorically. Like, actually burn it down and walk away while it’s still smoking.
I’ve been doing therapy for a long time. I’ve heard a lot of things.
But you know what I hear at least twice a week? A woman somewhere in midlife saying, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” while describing this exact rage.
“I’m not an angry person,” they tell me.
“I scared myself yesterday.”
They’re terrified they’re becoming someone mean. Someone unstable. Someone who might actually throw the dinner plate instead of just putting food on it.
The rage isn’t random. It’s incredibly targeted.
The cartoon version versus what’s real
You’ve seen those memes, right? The cartoons of menopausal women with steam coming out of their ears. All the jokes about “the change” turning women into rage monsters.
Ha ha. Hilarious.
Except, and here’s the thing, those cartoons got it half right. There actually is steam. There actually is rage.
What they got completely wrong is treating it like a punchline instead of what it actually is: a legitimate neurological event.
It’d be like drawing a cartoon of someone having a panic attack and expecting them to laugh. I mean, sure, there’s a physical thing happening. But maybe we don’t mock people for their brain chemistry doing stuff outside their control?
Just a thought.
Here’s what’s actually going on
Perimenopause is doing something to your brain that nobody bothered to warn you about. Probably because the medical establishment barely researches this stuff—but that’s a whole other rant.
For decades, estrogen’s been running interference for you. It’s been in your brain. Not just your ovaries—your actual brain. Helping regulate your stress response. Keeping you calm. Patient. Able to handle one more demand, one more disappointment, one more invisible task that somehow became your responsibility.
Now your estrogen is dropping.
And with it? Your ability to absorb everyone else’s needs while ignoring your own.
The rage isn’t random. It’s specific.
You’re not mad at dinner. You’re mad that you’re the only one who even thought about dinner. Again.
You’re not mad at the question. You’re mad that the question assumes there’s some dinner fairy who magically makes food appear, and you got elected to that job without anyone actually asking you.
It’s Thursday at 5 PM, and you’ve already:
Bought someone’s birthday gift
Noticed the toilet paper situation
Done a mental inventory of what’s in the fridge
Calculated who needs to be where and when
And then someone wanders in and asks what’s for dinner, like it’s just a neutral question.
Like it’s not the 4,000th decision you’ve made today, while they’ve made what, six?
Your rage isn’t irrational.
It’s just finally proportional.
What your brain is doing
Think of estrogen like that friend who talks you down when you’re pissed off. The one who says, “Okay, but is it really worth it?” and somehow you actually listen.
For years, estrogen helped you bite your tongue. Smooth things over. Decide that keeping the peace mattered more than saying the true thing.
It let you think things like: “Well, they didn’t mean it that way,” or “It’s easier if I just do it myself,” or “Maybe I’m being too sensitive.”
Now that whole buffering system is offline.
And all those things you’ve been absorbing? They’re still happening. But your brain is responding the way it probably should have all along.
With: “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
This is what my clients mean when they say, “I don’t recognize myself.” They’ve spent decades being accommodating. Reasonable. Understanding.
They’re still those things.
They’re just not willing to be those things at the expense of their own sanity anymore.
The part nobody mentions
The rage is information.
I know it doesn’t feel like information when you’re gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turn white. Or when you’re lying in bed imagining what would happen if you just walked out the door tomorrow and kept walking.
But the rage shows up exactly when you need it.
It shows up when you’ve been doing someone else’s emotional labor for so long you don’t even notice you’re doing it.
When you’ve been managing someone else’s mood.
When you’ve been making yourself smaller so someone else can be more comfortable.
The rage is your brain going, “I can’t handle this anymore.”
It’s not pretty. It’s definitely not convenient. It sure as hell isn’t comfortable.
But it’s not wrong.
What to do with it
You don’t have to throw the dinner plate.
But you might need to stop making dinner. At least sometimes. At least for people who are perfectly capable of feeding themselves.
You don’t have to burn your life down.
But you might need to stop pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.
The women who scare themselves with their own rage? They’re usually the ones who’ve spent the longest time pretending they don’t have needs. The ones who’ve been so good at being good that they forgot it was supposed to be optional.
Your anger isn’t the problem.
What you’ve been putting up with—that’s the problem.
The rage is just the smoke detector finally going off.
Okay, but what do you do when you feel it coming?
Because I know that’s what you’re thinking. “Great, Ellen. My rage is information. Very helpful. But what do I do when I’m about to lose it in the frozen food aisle?”
Fair question.
Here’s what actually works (and what doesn’t):
What doesn’t work
Let’s get this out of the way first.
Deep breathing? Not when you’re already at a 9 out of 10. You know what happens when someone tells you to “just breathe” when you’re furious? You want to punch them.
Counting to ten? Same problem. Your brain is past the point where counting helps.
“Thinking positive thoughts”? Please. Your brain is doing the opposite of that right now and for good reason.
Those things might work for mild annoyance. They don’t work for the kind of rage we’re talking about.
What actually helps in the moment
Name it out loud
I mean, literally say it. Not to the person who’s pissing you off—at least not yet. But to yourself.
“I’m furious right now.”
“I want to scream.”
“I’m so angry I can’t think straight.”
Sounds simple, right? Here’s the thing: when you name what’s happening, your prefrontal cortex comes back online. Just a little. Just enough.
You’re not trying to make the anger go away. You’re just acknowledging it exists.
Get physical (but not violent)
Your body is flooded with adrenaline and cortisol. That energy needs to go somewhere.
Walk. Fast. Like you’re late for something important.
Squeeze ice cubes in your fist.
Do push-ups against the kitchen counter.
Rip up junk mail. (I’m serious. One of my clients keeps a stack specifically for this.)
Stomp up and down the stairs.
You’re not trying to “calm down.” You’re trying to move the chemistry through your system instead of letting it sit there, making everything worse.
Take space without explanation
Here’s a script: “I need to step away for a minute.”
Not “I’m sorry, I just need a second.”
Not “I don’t mean to be difficult but...”
Just: “I need to step away.”
Then go. Lock the bathroom door. Sit in your car. Stand in the backyard. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for taking space when you need it.
What helps after the moment passes
Figure out what the rage is actually about
Remember how I said it’s not about dinner?
Once you’re calm enough to think, ask yourself, “What am I actually mad about?
Usually it’s one of these:
Someone expecting you to carry all the mental load
Being taken for granted
Having to ask for help with things that should be obvious
People acting helpless when they’re perfectly capable
Your needs being invisible while everyone else’s are urgent
Write it down. Be specific.
“I’m not mad about the dinner question. I’m mad that I’m the only one who thinks about meals, plans them, shops for them, and makes them while also working full time.”
Now you’ve got something you can actually work with.
Have the conversation you’ve been avoiding
This is the part nobody wants to do.
But if you don't talk about what's actually bothering you, the rage will just keep coming back. Different trigger, same feeling.
You don’t have to do this perfectly. You don’t have to wait until you can say it without any emotion.
Try this: “Hey, I need to talk about something. The dinner question? It’s not about dinner. It’s about the fact that I’m the only one thinking about it, and that needs to change.”
Then stop talking. Let them respond.
Will it be comfortable? Probably not.
Will it be better than the alternative? Yes.
Redistribute the load
This is where the real work happens.
Make a list of all the invisible tasks you do. Everything.
Then redistribute them.
Not by asking, “Can you help me with this?” Because that still makes you the manager.
But by saying, “You’re now in charge of X. Completely. I’m not going to remind you or fix it if you forget.”
This will feel uncomfortable. You’ll want to step in. Don’t.
The thing nobody tells you
Managing the anger isn’t about making it go away.
It’s about learning to listen to it instead of being scared of it.
Your rage is showing you where your boundaries need to be. Where you’ve been accepting unacceptable things. Where you’ve been living a life that doesn’t actually work for you.
The women who work with this instead of against it? They end up with lives that look completely different than they did before.
Not because they stopped being angry.
Because they stopped ignoring what the anger was trying to tell them.
As always, tell me what’s on your mind. I’m reading every word here. I can’t respond to everyone, but thank you for sharing.
If my words made you pause, smile, or think, consider being part of the journey.
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Marriage is a trap for women, plain and simple. No matter how independent and self-sufficient your children and husband are, you're still in there performing all the executive functions that keep the family functioning -- planning, coordinating, keeping the train on the tracks. It doesn't end for 25-35 years, depending on how you spaced your children and their levels of independence. And then, when the children are launched, your career has peaked, and you and your husband are retired, guess what? The caretaking of the elderly begins.
In my opinion, hormones have nothing to do with any of this, except the biological drive to reproduce and the fact that only women can bear children. All these hormones rise and fall throughout our lives. Instead, I believe it is our society that first tells us we can have it all, and then we discover halfway through that instead, we have pretty much nothing. Rage is an appropriate response to realizing you've wasted your entire life.
What happens when your kids have left home, they're not your responsibility but then, when both you and your partner have retired and things should be getting more evened out between you because you've had that conversation, you suddenly end up being his carer? The fury I feel is off the scale.