After almost two years of tears, unsatisfactory doctor appointments, and constantly questioning my own sanity, I was relieved when I was finally diagnosed with PMDD at the beginning of 2020. I was relieved because there was a name for it. It was real, I wasn’t making it up in my head, and I could start on the path towards acceptance and adapting to my new normal. I could share it with those closest to me and finally explain why I turn into a different person for one week every month. It felt liberating and I quickly spent my time learning everything I could about life with PMDD.

Then the pandemic happened and the whole country was put under lockdown overnight. 

While a lot of people found the sudden loss of normal life difficult, living with PMDD and having to stay at home felt like a whispered prayer being answered, despite the horrific circumstances that made it happen. At first, I relished that I could stay safe at home during my “bad week”. I didn’t have to call in sick at work now because my moods were uncontrollable and I was dreading the thought of anyone seeing me. I didn’t have to cancel plans with loved ones when the very thought of them made me cry for hours with illogical anxiety. Now I could hide away for a while with no explanation needed. I didn’t have to put on a brave face for the worst of my lowest days. I planned to use this time to properly look after my mental wellbeing and learn new ways of coping with my illness. 

What I wasn’t prepared for was the complete onslaught of anxiety. I started checking the news updates 20 times a day to see what was happening around the world, even though every word I read terrified me. I picked up on the fear of colleagues, friends, and family which spread like wildfire. We would constantly discuss the ever-growing death toll and the heart-breaking individual stories of people we knew. Even without a mental illness, anyone would have crumbled under such overwhelming panic at the state of the world and the crushing loss of so many lives. It felt too big to cope with. 

My feelings of safety quickly evaporated. I felt trapped in my head, and trapped in my house, away from all the things that I knew would make me feel better – a hug from my mum, spending time with friends, and distracting my thoughts with endless entertainment options. I tried to lean into the group zoom calls, the virtual quizzes, and daily workouts that everyone seemed to be doing, to maintain some semblance of routine, but this quickly gave way to my typical bad week behaviour – lying in bed all day feeling hopeless. The only person around was my boyfriend and he faced the full brunt of my PMDD without anyone to share the load. I would lash out at him and cry on his shoulder all within the space of a few minutes and would feel so much guilt when I finally returned to “me” again. 

These feelings only got worse when I received the news that my adored grandmother, my hero, had passed away alone in hospital at the end of April. 

PMDD sufferers will know that the lowest days feel like a complete state of grief, but when you actually have someone to grieve over, it feels like you are trapped in the deepest pit with no way out. I struggled to cope. Although lockdown allowed me time and space to process my grief, it also meant that there was little distraction from the depression that comes with it. I attended the funeral, but I couldn’t comfort my family or spend time with them afterward reminiscing on all our treasured memories. It felt unnatural. So much was missing from the grieving process and I couldn’t pull myself out of my depression for weeks. What ultimately helped the most was talking about my grandmother with my boyfriend, my mum, and my brother over many long phone calls. Those calls put me back together again piece by piece. 

A month later, I decided to take charge of the situation to redesign what lockdown looked like for me. I stopped reading the news and checking social media multiple times a day and googling the daily death tolls. Instead, I wrote down a huge list of books, films, TV, music, podcasts, and crafts that I could immerse myself in so I always had something positive to do and focus on no matter how I was feeling. Finally, the days didn’t feel so endless since I had a long list of activities to turn to. 

I also wrote down the names of all my friends and family and decided to make a conscious effort to speak to them as often as I could, to remind myself of all the love in my life. I started sewing fabric face masks for loved ones which made me feel like I was positively contributing to my community. I posted them with messages of positivity and loads of silly stickers to make people smile.

Through all of this, I finally feel I have gained some control over my time. I also make sure to treat myself with kindness on my worst days and take off the pressure. If all I do on a really bad day is read one chapter of a book, that is still something achieved. It really helps me to keep track of when the bad week is coming too, so I can make sure I have pre-prepared my meals, washed all my comfy clothes, and stocked up on bubble bath!

I’m still grieving for my Gran and those bad days are still pretty bad, but feeling in control on the not-so-bad days is something I am hugely proud of. We are all living through unusual times and there is still so much uncertainty in the world. But I can control my own actions and look after myself as much as possible. For me, that’s made such a difference.

Danielle Stevenson

I’m Danielle, a 29-year-old living on the edge of the Peak District in England with my boyfriend and two cuddly cats. I work in a busy office environment, and in my spare time I’m a huge advocate for nature therapies, mindfulness, and being creative in helping to navigate my life with PMDD. I love to read, spend time with loved ones, and volunteer on alpaca treks around the gorgeous Sheffield countryside!