PMDD: Into Me See

The following is a guest post by the blgger Cheekyminx. With her permission, several of her posts about PMDD are being featured on this blog. To find out more about her work as a PMDD Advocate, please visit her Facebook page, PMDD Life Support.

I've said I wanted to write about some of the things that help me to cope with PMDD. Maybe another day. Right now, NOTHING is helping. In fact, everything is just making it worse! I suspect, hell, I know from reading the forums, that this is pretty common. Nothing helps, at least it seems that way, and everything is an irritation. A speck of dust in the wrong place can make me want to jump out the window. Yes, it’s irrational. That’s kind of the point, and I don’t need to be reminded of it…  At least I have some control over a speck of dust.

The reason nothing helps is because nothing makes this chemical shit-storm of body and mind go away. It is still there, demanding attention, making me behave in ways I cannot stand. But there are things that do bring modicums of comfort. I can take a bath. Sitting in the sunshine smelling the grass helps, too. There are also my standbys of yoga and meditation. I would be lost without them, but sometimes, they aren’t enough. Really, they’re never enough…not during PMDD. They just offer a bit of relief and keep me as stable as possible.

The saddest thing may just be that so many of us have to get through this pretty much unsupported and alone. Very few people get it enough to be of help. The fact is, if you don’t have it, you just don’t get it. This includes friends, roommates and partners who, needless to say, have a very hard time of it, and often wind up making everything worse, even if they don’t intend to. Even if it was me on the receiving end of this phenomenon, I don’t know how I would respond. I guess it would depend on my own mental state that day. Sadly, PMDD ruins plenty of relationships.

But one can dream that suddenly, it wasn’t such a horrible thing for others to cope with…

Dream Sequence

I wake up and I can feel the stirring of hormonal reaction inside my body. The good days have passed. Shit! Here we go again. Two weeks until my period when I can think and act straight again and not detest myself for having no control.

In walks my husband with a bouquet of flowers. “Good morning, sunshine!” he says.

“Drop dead.” Shit, I think to myself. Did that just come out? Oh, crap, oh crap, oh crap. I want to enjoy the flowers. They are so beautiful. Please, please, please let me just enjoy the flowers. How did he know how much they would mean to me? And yet, I can’t express it. The only words out of my mouth are “drop dead?” What is wrong with me?

“Honey, I won’t take what you said to mean anything,” he says. “I know what day this is…um…I know any day now I’ll be losing you for a week or two to that whatever it is…but I just want you to know, I’m going to do everything I can to make it easier for you this time.”

Really? I think, heart melting inside while I roll my eyes on the outside thinking of what a damned irritating [insert cuss word] he usually is at this time. How does he intend to do that? Go on vacation for two weeks without me? He would abandon me like that!

I go down to the kitchen expecting crumbs on the cutting board, knowing I’m about to get all wound up, and what’s this? The kitchen has been cleaned! I mean, really cleaned! The floor actually sparkles. It’s a miracle!

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Just leave me alone,” comes out of my mouth while "Yes, please make me your lovely eggs" never leaves my lips.

“I’ll make some eggs. If you don’t want them, you don’t have to eat them. If you do, I’ll leave them here for you.”

Hmm…what’s gotten into him? I start to think paranoid and judgmental thoughts. I just manage to hold back the bitter words that want to exert my independence, “I can make my own eggs!”

“Oh, by the way, I know how much it’s been bothering you that I hadn’t fixed that sink since we moved in two months ago, so guess what?”

What? Another empty promise to fix it…someday…next year? I’m biting my tongue because I KNOW I’m thinking with way too much exaggeration. Words start leaking out…words I KNOW will only do more harm than good…

“I called the plumber. He’ll be here next week when you feel better.”

He… I can’t help but smile. The tension in my body that usually just gets tighter and tighter is starting to untwine. This is all getting to be too much.

“I also tidied my room just so you won’t have to be repeatedly irritated by the disorder in there. I know it affects you and makes things worse. In fact, I’ve decided to take care of everything on this here list that I normally force you to tolerate and remind me of month after month like I’m deaf. I may let things slide at other times, but I realize it just makes things worse once your cycle again. Besides, it really is my responsibility…”

Oh, my God! I just want to cry now. I have to cry. So out it comes. I am sobbing uncontrollably. Great. Now he’ll take it personally and the world falls to shit.

He doesn’t say anything. He gets a pained look on his face…and then, it happens. Another miracle. He takes me by the hand, leads me upstairs, and holds me on the bed while I finish crying. At first, I push him away. I can’t bear to be touched. It actually hurts. But he holds me even tighter. He isn’t trying to get me to stop crying, or offering me Kleenex, or asking me what’s wrong. He’s just there. Strong. Reassuring. And I feel safe for what feels like the first time in my life.

When I stop, I feel stupid. I feel embarrassed. And I push him away. He doesn’t say, “I can never do anything right.” He doesn’t throw up his hands. He doesn’t call me crazy or make me feel worse than I already do. He just says, “Honey, I love you. I’ll give you some time and space. I’ll go get some groceries because I know we are out of bananas and chocolate…and frankly, that scares me right now.”

I want to say, “and we need lettuce” but I can’t get it out my mouth. Why the fuck can’t he remember the fucking lettuce? And then I cry some more, ashamed of my ridiculous thoughts but also, feeling a strange sweetness inside. I think I’ll bake him some cookies.

I know. It’s just a dream. Maybe it is too much to ask. Is it catering and kowtowing? Is it just too utopian? To expect another person to be able to behave this way when faced with judgment, contempt, rage, and the other unpleasantries that consume a woman in PMDD? Is it too much to expect someone not to take such seemingly personal attacks personally? To be able to be in our heads knowing what it is we need or want when it is suddenly impossible for us to just speak it? To be able to set aside their own discomforts with whatever has taken us over to wonder, my God, what is it like for her?

I suppose so. People are people after all. There no such thing as a Stepford Husband.

Then again, maybe this is all it would take to change the patterns and break the cycles. Maybe, PMDD is a dis-ease in consciousness designed to make us learn things we never would have otherwise about ourselves and each other, given the compassion and support to get through it. What are the lessons? If we knew that, we wouldn’t be going through it. Maybe learning them would be the difference between escalation and management.

Or is it just spiritual bullshit to think there are lessons. And even if there are, what if they aren’t being learned?

If nothing else, maybe this little dream illuminates the secret machinations of the very complicated and unsettling PMDD mind.

I hope so.

Postscript: I shared this with my husband who said it helped him understand me better. I told him I wasn’t going to post it because it just felt too exposing. But then, on one of the Facebook forums, I read a post from a young woman who had just had a blowout with her boyfriend. She was so upset, and I could feel the shaking in my own body…  I thought about what my husband said, that this helped him understand. I thought about what he did for me after reading this: fixed the sink, took me grocery shopping, didn’t walk away when I was emotionally over-stimulated but held me instead. He just wants me to be happy. Given a little information, he actually wants to put it into practice. So, I’m getting over my damned self and sharing this now because it just may help someone else.