Living with PMDD (or why I’m regularly crazy)

I’ve only mentioned once (briefly) before that my doctor thinks I have PMDD. It’s mostly because I’m in denial: I’m a “fixer” and if I have an Actual Thing (with capital letters) then I can’t just fix it. I can take things to help — e.g. the doc wants me on low dose prozac — but I’m probably stuck with it until I go through the menopause. Maybe? I have no idea.

I started experiencing feelings of extreme anger after I had Oliver. I think I may have had post natal depression, or his birth triggered some sort of hormone thing, or something… I don’t know what exactly, but that’s when it all began. (I’m so glad I blog so that I can pinpoint this stuff, you know?)

Counselling helped me to deal with some issues in my life which did seem to help placate some of ANGRY ME’s worst tantrums, so I thought my problems were all ‘mental’. I thought more counselling would fix it, but it didn’t.

I thought I could fix it by changing my diet, changing my pill, changing my exercise levels, changing how much I drink, changing how many people I see, changing my boyfriend, changing my job — changing anything and everything I could to be “normal” again. Blaming anything and everything I can because doing so prevents me from having to accept the reality.

But no matter how much I change, no matter how much I blame, it’s still there. Anxious and emotional during “ovulation” and then easily annoyed, touchy and irrational before menstruation. These happen like clockwork, despite taking the pill. It also happens irrelevant of how many packs I take; I will get angry pre-menstrually in my cycle, even when taking 2 or 3 packs back-to-back so not actually bleeding. (It also happens if I don’t take the pill, so it’s not to blame.)

Some months, I get more ‘normal’ PMS: I get a bit emo for few days, then later on a bit grumpy. Some physical symptoms, nothing major.

Some months, like through August and September, I descend into blackness. Getting out of bed is a massive chore. Dealing with life is overwhelming, frustrating, too much to cope with. I become intolerant of my children, I get paranoid that Gaz is going to leave me, I doubt the friendship of people close. I become reliant on ego-stroking, intimacy and affection just to give me the reassurance I need to get through a day, but the little bubble of love is fragile and doesn’t last: for example, despite thriving on intimacy I have (more than once) broken down during sex because of something ridiculous that I’ve suddenly felt or noticed, or assumed about Gaz’s mood.

And while we’re on the subject of sex: my libido (during both ovulation and pre-menstruation) shoots through the roof. Ho ho ho, Jem wants to get it on. Sounds like an amazing side effect. Except not so much, because I can become literally insatiable: like having an itch that that you can’t quite reach. On one occasion I spent four hours in bed masturbating to try and give me the relief I needed, only to end up more frustrated and more angry because it wasn’t working. I couldn’t satisfy the craving.

As well as the mental symptoms, I get the headaches, tender breasts and cramping (varying from minor to extreme).

I have on, more than one occasion, thought about suicide. Not from a planning to do it or a working out the fastest way point of view, purely on a logical basis: if I did X, then I would no longer feel Y. I would never use it as an answer to my problems; having lost my brother to suicide, I couldn’t put my family and specifically my children through that pain, but that is exactly how low and worthless I’ve felt… that my continuing existence is purely for the benefit of not causing others pain.

On/off crying, low self esteem, indecisiveness, feelings of little or no worth, a deep sadness despite everything being ‘good’ in my world, complete brain fog rendering me unable to concentrate or do anything constructive, uncontrollable anger manifesting in shouting or physical aggression (towards objects not people), passive aggressive behaviours and a lot of feeling useless because I know why these moods are happening and can’t just “snap out” of it. And then like a switch is flicked, I am back to ‘normal’ me for a couple of weeks before the next dip.

One of the hardest parts about accepting that I probably have PMDD, apart from all that fun stuff I’ve already mentioned, is coming to terms with the idea that my hormones are to blame. I am sure most women have had to deal with the PMS stereotype in their lives: that they’re pissed off about something because it’s “that time of the month”. To basically embody that stereotype in a very real way makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel like anyone can dismiss me because of “that time of the month”. I feel worthless enough when I’m down, the last thing I need is to have my intelligence, my right to have an opinion, my right to exist questioned because it’s “that time of the month”.

After a prolonged down, yesterday was an OK day. Today I’m ‘normal’ again. I might have a few days, maybe a week before the next dip: it could be a nasty one, or I might not even notice it. One thing’s for sure… it’s definitely not my hormones. I can’t have PMDD. Because that would mean I can’t fix it, and I can fix everything.

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