Learning that hormones impact my mental health was incredibly empowering. I might not have a cure but at least I knew the cause. The unknown is the most frightening specter of all, both to ourselves and to our loved ones.
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At first, working from home sounded great. But then my PMDD got worse. Work had always been a safe place for me, but not anymore. I was struggling and spiraling. Over time, I started to figure out how to make work work again.
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PMDD has been a hidden battle for many of us. Throughout history, PMDD symptoms have been mistaken and dismissed. However, within the last century, brave women and their supporters have fought to bring PMDD out of the shadows, and modern advocates continue the fight for change.
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In tears, heart pounding, I am furious. I hate my partner, I hate my life, I want to give up. Oh my gosh – here we go - the dragon is back! It’s the same cycle all over again…
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Through diagnosis, treatment, and education, I have transformed from a person overwhelmed by intense premenstrual symptoms into someone who understands their condition and has the tools to manage it.
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I knew I wanted to focus my energy on raising awareness of PMDD, especially within Wales where I live and where healthcare is devolved. So I decided to run an awareness event of my own - and where better than at the heart of Welsh Government - The Senedd Estate during April 2023 - right in PMD Awareness Month!
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I never wanted you and I certainly never asked for you. You’re like a parasite in my mind that surfaces every few weeks, trying to destroy me. Why do you do that? Is there something you’re trying to tell me, or are you intrinsically mean just because you are?
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As I blew out the candles on my 34th birthday, I’d still never been in a romantic relationship. One of my biggest fears was that dating a girl with PMDD was too much for someone to sign up for, and I began to believe I would never find a loving partner. Days later, I passed him in the parking lot. We’ll call him “N…”
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I wake up from a bad dream, covered in sweat and grasping for reality. Then, the spiral starts. Worthless. Broken. Crazy. My brain has all of my best mistakes on repeat. Anything and everything that I have messed up. All of the ways everyone hates me. Why am I like this? What is wrong with me? Then, slowly, recognition sets in.
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As I sit in the sun enjoying the heat on my skin, it occurs to me, that for once I feel at ease. For a sufferer of PMDD, this is a sensation that eludes them, only ever being something others have the right to feel, to deserve; we can’t even allow ourselves to dream it. That used to be me. But today, things are different.
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It's been almost a year since I began the injections to banish her from my life. I cast her out like discarded rubbish. I often wonder whether she deserved that. If I was truly prepared for what was about to come. Was it really that bad? Was she really that bad?
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I’m 35, and I’m about to voluntarily put my body into a state of chemical menopause. I’m about to shut down shop and call it quits for two organs that cause my mind to become a veritable wasteland of self-destruction in the week leading up to my period. And I’m scared.
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Did you know that July is Disability Pride Month! Honestly, it wasn’t until a few years into my diagnosis with PMDD that I first heard of it myself. When I was first diagnosed, I didn’t consider myself disabled. Sure, I spent weeks at a time in bed, wracked with pain, and had to take months and months off from work - but not disabled…
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“Which season best describes your personality?” I awkwardly laughed. “On what day?” I asked back. I got some laughs for my joke, but sadly it wasn’t really a joke at all. How much time did these people have? I so desperately wanted to share that I couldn’t pick just one, because like seasons change throughout a year, I too change like seasons every single month, and so do 1 out of every 20 women.
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The impact of severe premenstrual disorders can be devastating and far-reaching, but we have an opportunity to intervene and make a positive difference. Once we recognise the connection, we can start rebuilding hope (and, yes, lives).
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‘Tug of war’ has long been my analogy to describe my experience with PMDD. It’s just like the game we played as kids, except in this case it’s just me up against a 9-foot, 300-pound, monster! I dig my feet into the ground, feeling as though my only option is to hold onto the rope and pull.
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At thirty-six, as I watched “Turning Red” with my 11-year-old stepdaughter last weekend, I was surprised to relate so much to a thirteen-year-old turned giant red panda. I had never seen my condition on-screen until the fluffy red panda.
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I am at work sitting in my office, and I feel a familiar sensation in my body. My period has begun. Damn. I am flooded with guilt and regret and wondering, “How did I let this happen again?”
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This journey has been a rollercoaster, but it has made me a stronger woman and individual. It has allowed me to be the most vulnerable I have ever been and allowed me to express who I am. PMDD, you were a process to live with, but you have been a blessing in disguise. This is my story.
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The practice of writing is helpful and life-giving for anyone, including those with mental illness and mood disorders. Telling your story is a liberating act. It gives you a voice. It creates order out of chaos. It helps you draw meaning from your experience. Writing is a practice that has no doubt saved my own life and can benefit yours too.
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