PMDD, From One Man to Another, Part 2

How do I survive? If I'm doing all of this, what am I doing for me? Well, it's taken a long time but, I've accepted the fact that it's not about me. It's not even about her. It's about the boys. If she's in a state, I trust her to handle it. I deal with the dudes.

WHAT ABOUT ME?

Don't get me wrong. I do things for me. I'm not talking about drinking or smoking or drugs (though my alcohol intake does increase on those PMDD days). For me, it's cooking. Something that has a beginning, middle, end. Something that involves the boys (so they don't bug mommy on the couch or in bed). Something that satisfies us. Something that's controllable by me. Something that's as challenging as I want to make it. Something that allows me to express myself to others. I can immerse myself in the process, pushing the stresses of the day to the side (at least temporarily).

Recently, I've been writing. I write how I'm feeling when she ups and leaves the dinner table or lashes out at me or tries to pick a fight just because she wants to argue. I keep track of the number of days she sleeps downstairs, while I deal with the boys through the night. I write lists (bucket, shopping, chores). I write quotes or words of wisdom and inspiration (to remind myself that I'm not alone...though it often feels like I am.)

My big one, though, is music. No, I don't write it or sing it or perform it. I listen to it. I have my 'mood music' to centre me. And, like her needs during her PMDD spells, what I need varies each time. It could be punk or rap or chillout or metal or classic rock or country...but when it's on, I'm in the zone, in the moment and in the mood. When I'm cooking, there's ALWAYS music on. Again, it shifts with my moods.

I'll say it: PMDD can be a selfish disorder if your partner blames every given frustration or moodiness or anxieties on it. And, trust me, it can go there. She will do what she needs to do for her when she needs to do it. Regardless of your intentions, there's very little you can do. She's been dealing with it, coping with it, handling it well before you entered the picture. She's dealt with it on her own and will continue to do so...ON HER OWN. Get over it. Seriously.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

For the love of humanity, when she says to leave her alone, LEAVE HER ALONE.

When you're trying to decide what to make for supper, avoid at all costs, asking question after question after question. Stick to one simple question with a yes or no answer. Most likely, she won't eat any food anyway so it doesn't matter what you make!

Please ask her, once, "is there anything you need" or "can I get you anything" or "is there anything I can do?" - but do NOT ask every few minutes.

Be prepared. It's the scout's motto. It's important here, too. Have her comfort foods on hand: perhaps it's a particular chocolate bar (Lindt dark chocolate with hot peppers for my wife) or salty snacks (chips? nachos?) - don't be surprised if they disappear during her moments of deep darkness. Even if you wanted some, you can buy more. Again, this can lead down the road of selfishness but get over it.

This is a disorder requiring frequent, unexpected sacrifice. You're going to need to give up stuff - she may need your attention...ooooooooorrrrrrrr....she may tell you to 'get the f--- out' meaning you need to find somewhere else to be (pub? friend's place? ANYWHERE but home). The nice thing is that, if she's coming out of her state, she'll text you to come home. When you do go home, say very little. Maybe a 'how are you feeling?' but don't you dare overwhelm her with story after story about what you saw, did, or heard. It's not - and never will be - about you during these times.

One more thing. YOU. CAN'T. FIX. HER. Don't try. Don't tell her to 'go for a walk' or ask to go out for dinner or sex. Don't even consider telling her to 'get over it' or 'snap out of it' or tell her that it's nothing. It's everything. It's all consuming and all encompassing. It is a deep, dark hole that she's allowed herself to explore and it's scary as fu--. She doesn't want you down there with her. This is her own hell. You cannot and will not be her tour guide. Trust me. I've had my nuts in a sling one too many times thinking I could be the fixer...like I could be the solution to her problems. It sucks to not be able to solve a problem for her. I love my wife, but not having the tools to fix her hurts like hell. She's stronger than words can express...and it'll make you stronger the moment you accept the fact that you are not her knight in shining armor, rescuing her from a pit of despair.

So what are the solutions? There aren't any. Every month may be a different hell. Every time it rears its ugly head, it may be a different stimulus that exacerbates her anxiety. You can usually predict when the darkness may arise but be prepared for spontaneous combustion.

There are medications (my wife's on Cipralex). Does it help? Yes. Is it a cure? No. Her PMDD still comes...but not as frequently. We're down to ~8-10 days a month now. It lowers sex drive. Decreases appetite (with sporadic bouts of gorging). Ironically, it CAN increase anxiety (!) which, I thought, it was supposed to minimize...but, whatever.

There's therapy. I'm sure there is. We just haven't explored it. Yet.

There's exercise or yoga...something that centers the mind and body. But, dear man, don't suggest she work out while she's in the middle of an episode. You're likely to have a rolled up exercise mat shoved deep inside you through a very tiny orifice. 

Why don't I go out more? Because I never know when the PMDD will kick in or when the depression or anxiety will hit. I never know, going to get groceries, if I'll come home to find her on the floor. I fear leaving her with the boys on 'bad' days because I never know what to expect when I come home - will they be trying to wake her up? will she be locked in her bedroom, sobbing? will she be unleashing her fury on the boys as they wildly chase each other through the house? It's the fear of the unknown.

Don't be surprised if you slip into your own funk after a particular bout of PMDD. It's draining. It's exhausting. You'll be physically, mentally and emotionally wiped. You'll be worrying about her, questioning yourself, wishing you could do more (once you've accepted you can't), wondering if she's ok...it's a whirlwind that is uncontrollable. It keeps you on edge. She may have said something particularly hurtful or mean (just to get you going). That sucks big time. Then, when the dark clouds pass, when she's all kinds of relieved and 'nice again', you may be relieved...but you'll be mentally overwhelmed. You'll want to talk to her...and, perhaps, she'll want to share her thoughts (what you did right, what you did wrong) and that, in itself, further drains you. You don't want to hear all the things you did wrong (or didn't do at all) do you?

It sounds mean or cruel or insensitive but, guys, suck it up. Man up and accept that your wife or partner or lover has PMDD. The more you learn about her & how she handles it the better off your relationship will be. It is an ongoing process, kind of like the Hobbits on their quest for the ring. It's an adventure but one fraught with chaos, insanity, danger and doubt.

What can you do? What can you say? It's easier said than done.

When she's not in a PMDD state, (and, please, don't inundate her with all of these questions at one time!)

~Ask her what you can have on hand for her (salty? sweet? Sex & the City box set?)

~Ask what you can do to help (tell her to be specific in what she wants from you - rub her lower back, check in without saying a word, hand her a cup of tea and walk out, etc)

~Ask her what, specifically, she needs from you (a conversation afterwards? a walk? etc)

 ~If you think medication is needed, tread carefully - choosing a safe time to mention intervention is paramount.

 If asking her to seek treatment is tricky, wait until you mention 'therapy'...that's another whole kettle of fish.

There's more, I'm sure...but if you have any questions, comments, ideas, suggestions, tips or stories to share, please do so...though it may feel like you're alone, know you're not...the fact you're exploring how you can help your partner demonstrates your strength and resolve.

Well done.

The above is a guest post in two parts by Chef Jay, who has decided to help raise PMDD awareness  by starting a blog for men about PMDD.  You can find his original post, and others, here.

PMDD, From One Man to Another, Part 1

What follows is a guest post in two parts by Chef Jay, who has decided to help raise PMDD awareness  by starting a blog for men about PMDD.  You can find his original post, and others, here.

Why am I writing this dissertation on PMDD? Simple. I need to. There aren't many resources out there for guys. There isn't a strong support system - the number of comments I've seen by guys saying "run away" or "get the F out of the relationship" or "she's crazy" are overwhelming, insulting and, at the very least, a disappointing commentary on the state of men.

Living with a wife with PMDD (who's had it most of her life) and growing up with a sister who, looking back, had something along the same lines, I can say the following: It's worse that what's described. Does it need to be said that PMDD is NOT PMS? Duh.

"...symptoms begin 7 to 10 days" - not always. It can hit at a moment's notice. The anxieties can skyrocket in a heartbeat. The moodiness can take over without warning...a sound, a question, proximity to other humans...anything. One moment, she's sitting at the dining room table, the next, she's heading to the basement to burrow into pillows and blankets, watching Downton Abbey (or whichever show makes her feel better).

If your partner, wife, girlfriend, significant other is anything like my wife (who, according to her doctor, is a textbook case for PMDD), hopefully my words might help, enlighten or support you in your relationship. It's not easy. I feel for you. Really. It's hard as hell. You can do this.

Let me say this first (and I'll say it a couple more times before this is through):

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Family is key. Hers, Yours...they need to understand what you're going through, why she couldn't make it to Thanksgiving supper or church or your nephew's recital. She probably doesn't want to be around people. Including you. Your life must continue.

But here's the tough part: she will take it out on you. Why? Because she loves you. If she's letting loose her irritations, her tirades, her anger, her frustrations upon you, it means she trusts you. She's let you behind the curtain. But what sucks is that you will be yelled at, loathed, be the focal point of her ire. And, most likely, she won't want to talk about it. She won't want to dwell on it. Once its passed, she's done with it, not wanting to recall the dark place she endured. Why? Because it's over...and, most likely, she won't want to consider how her words or actions (which she may or may not remember expressing) affect you or those around her. It makes matters worse. Or, at least, that's what I've learned. Often, picking fights is an outlet for the tension in her mind and body. My wife says it's because she loves me. It's hard as hell, but don't give into the temptation to engage in an argument when she's PMDD-y. Walk away. Seriously. She will, likely, say things to get you going, get under your skin or piss you off. Walk away. She's only doing it to drag you down. It'll make things so much worse because, likely, she won't recall engaging you in a volatile discussion and you will. And, if you're like me, you'll hold it against her. Remember, dysphoria is 'a state of unease or generalized dissatisfaction with life' - compounded with her anxiety, depression, restlessness, agitation and irritation...it's like a tornado within her body and her words are letting some of the destructive forces out, wrecking you in the process. The tornado knows not what it destroys. Walk away.

Here's the best way my wife described it: She's in a deep, dark hole. There's only one way out and, to get there, she has to go through the darkness. She said, 'when I come out, into the light, it helps if you're there waiting for me...it makes things easier.' - that, for her, for our family, I can do.

We have 2 kids. They're realising (at the ages of 4 & 6) that "mommy doesn't feel very good" rather often. Until medication entered our house, her PMDD symptoms were, on average, 16 out of 30 days. Things are getting better...the boys are well versed in the "don't wake mommy" talk...or "mommy's very tired today" chat...my 4 y/o will come into our bedroom to sleep with me when mommy stays downstairs. As he puts it "I'll sleep with you, daddy, so you don't get sad". 

One thing that's not often identified when discussing symptoms of PMDD is suicidal fantasies. I learned, quickly, that the fantasies are VERY different from tendencies. I was told, "hide the pain pills away from me because that's the way I'd probably do it...less mess for you to clean up". WTF? Nobody prepares you for that mindset.

So...What do I do? How do I cope? What keeps me grounded? Why do I stay in a relationship that, clearly, is emotionally volatile?

First off, the boys. Dude & Lil Dude. I'm there for them. I take them away, keep them occupied, keep them entertained, keep them busy...but I also get their meals, make their lunches, do their laundry, bathe them and put them to bed...and I wake them up, make them breakfast, get them ready for school...it's not an equal division of labor, I know...but it's what needs to be done.

Why do I do all that? Why do I also do the groceries and the laundry and make suppers? Simple. I don't know if it's going to be one of THOSE days. I made a promise to myself that I'd do what I could to start the day off positively and easily for her. I anticipate the worst (it's gotten to the point where I have a 50/50 chance of  being right). I try and do everything I can so her anxiety is lessened. I can't get rid of it...but I can lower it. She calls me a martyr. So be it. I'd rather do that than be one of the guys who, at the first sign of adversity, turns tail and runs.

Next Up:  PMDD  - From One Man to Another, Part 2 - How do I survive?

PMDD Quote of the Week

~Knowing it's PMDD doesn't make it any less real or terrifying.~

The Monster I Am Living With: PMDD

Crushing weight sinks deep into my fragile chest. Insomnia, I'm already weary but have no hope of finding rest.

Switch in my brain has flipped, can't hold back as the monster inside bursts free. Losing all control, wreaking devastation wherever I go, it's then that I know, that as sure as gravity on earth I am back in its throes.

Depressive Tsunami overtakes me, washing clean away all of my self worth. Tormented woman desperate to stop it... Defeated despite the hard fight put forth. It's like a psychotic carnival ride, can't stop going around and around in my broken mind.

Anxiety and fear no one can understand brings salted tears ʼtil I am virtually blind. How can this damn life be so unkind??

Misery is embodied in me, taking away my hope for good life, hatred for the man who loves me most taking away my hope to be a good wife.

Migraines. Body aches. Sensitivity. Short fuses. Darkness. Hysteria. Forever on edge, pushing me to LOSE it.

I mean really how many times can my kids hear mommy's having a bad day, before they too feel abandoned and pushed away?

We stand on opposite sides of the same door secretly pleading: I've done nothing wrong why do I still have to pay?

Heartbreaking.

I hide out in my restroom cuz it's the only place I can truly be alone, keeping everyone safe from me, staring into a mirror and seeing nothing but the monster I am living with: PMDD.
~Carrian Troxler

The Voices of PMDD, A Guest Post by Alice

I have a demon living in my head, and it is a part of me. There are two of me existing in the same space. We share the same face, the same experiences and the same memories, yet one half of me is a rational and pleasant person to be around, and the other is living a crazy, illogical and chaotic existence. 

The sensible and sane version of me feels weak and small, and powerless to resist the overwhelming and destructive demon that can only be caged for 10 days of the month.

I have a fear that builds within me on day 8 of my cycle. I sit and wait for the demon to come crawling into my headspace and start making a mockery of me. The moment I open my eyes of day 10, the paranoia starts rumbling in my solar plexus. It starts as a vibration, then rumbles into a deep thunder roll, before bringing a brain fog down over my eyes. My ears are open, but I cannot hear. My eyes are open, but I am blind. My hands are strong, but my body is weak.  I am aware of this happening to me, but I have been removed from my body and I am watching myself from above. I am screaming at myself to stop, breathe and take heed, but I cannot make myself hear. I begin to live the next two and a half weeks behind a think pane of frosted glass. I see and hear the evil bubbling up in my throat, ready to come blurting out. Some days I can gather my strength and control the demon and suppress it, but others I am overpowered and subdued.

When the demon is released, I feel it creeping out the crown of my head. I feel a cold, slimy gel like substance slide down over my face. My eyes get heavy. The muscles in my face drop, and feel sad. The corners of my mouth droop, and the tone is lost in my neck. My eyelids are heavy and downcast, and my soul retreats. My shoulders slump, and I become a hunched shell of a woman. My breathing slows and my abdomen tenses and flops at the same time. My legs are heavy and my shoes feel like they have lead soles.

Then the anger sets it. The demon steps into my shoes and grows tall. It stretches its limbs and cracks its knuckles ready for battle. It starts to look for a fight. The anger simmers in my chest, using my heart as a power source. I feel it spreading out. A burning rage runs through my veins. A chemical fuelled fire that burns so hot. I am now in the cage. I cannot get free. I watch this demon take over my body. I scream, shout, and destroy everyone and everything around me. I hit myself and slap my face. I scratch myself and tell myself I am stupid, pathetic and don’t deserve to exist. I am evil and utterly disgusting. I hate myself. I am a vile creature, not worthy of love, not worthy of being called a person, not worthy of life. I wish that I had the courage to end it all, but I don’t really want to die. I just want to be free.

I collapse in a heap, exhausted. My life is in tatters around me. I have told my husband to leave and have cried and begged for forgiveness. I want him to touch me and then I want him to hurt me and then I want to be alone.

The next day finally arrives and I am so exhausted I cannot move. The demon is sleeping. For now. I hurt. Every muscle and joint in my body is excruciating. My pelvis is mobile and I can feel each bone grinding. Every step is an effort. I cannot think how I will make it through the day. I force myself out of bed because if I don’t I never will. I feel like my back will split open and my hips will fall out of their sockets.

I am riddled with guilt.  I hate myself and am filled is embarrassment and disgrace. I have humiliated myself and all of those around me by seeking to destroy every relationship that is there to protect me. I have spat in the face of love and kicked it when it was down. I deserve to be in the gutter. I did not deserve to wake up today. Everyone would be better off if I had never opened my eyes again. The demon would be dead. I would be gone from everyone’s life. Their suffering would be over. My pain would end. I no longer have the strength to think about this anymore, so I allow the brain fog to be my shield.

I spend the day trying to apologise, but each time I do it becomes less and less valid and more meaningless. I am a liability. I cannot be relied upon to be stable. I scared my husband, my one true love. I made a mockery of our marriage.

Then the cravings start. I have to have food! I don’t care what food, but it must be now and it must be good. The pain in my stomach is unbearable. It feels like I haven’t eaten for a month. I could cut off my arm and eat it. I need sugar. I need carbs. I need starchy and stodgy food. Give it to me now or I will kill you!

I know I should do the washing up, clean the bathroom, vacuum the house, wash my hair, brush my teeth and change my underwear. But I do not care. I cannot move off the sofa. I will do it another day. I will do it later. Anything but do it now.  I try to overcome this lethargy by writing a list, but I get distracted, I get tired, I get frustrated. I panic. I freeze. I cannot breathe. My heart will explode. I am going to die if I do not hide under the blanket and suck my thumb.

I go to bed. The tears roll down my face. They are warm and soothing. The demon runs over me and claims me for its own. The sobbing is uncontrollable but feels so good. I sleep.

I wait for my period to come. I wait for the release. The flow of blood that drains my anger, drains my anxiety, my despair and my hatred from my body. I am cleansed. I am released from my cage.  The walls of my cage are stripped away as my womb cries with relief. I can breathe fresh air. I can feel the touch of my husband. I can laugh again.

The demon is a hot, fierce animal that lives within me. Only it is me. I am the demon. My greatest fear is that this will always be a part of me. I fear that I will fight this demon until I take my last breath. I fear that it will take away everything that is precious to me and leave me a shadow of the woman I could be. I will not let it win. I cannot let it win. This is not who I was born to be. I can be great, I can be wonderful, I can be beautiful.

I have PMDD, it does not have me. I am beautiful. One day I will believe this.

The Voices of PMDD, A Partner's Perspective

Do I suffer from PMDD? Well, technically no, as I’m of the wrong gender, but given one of the key parts of the definition of PMDD is that sufferers experience severe disruptions to their relationships, I suffer the effects of PMDD. One of the many nasty parts of PMDD is that the sufferer is generally unaware of the disruptions occurring around them.

Unfortunately, as a partner, I am.

So, from an outsiders perspective (well, a partner's), what does PMDD look like?

Imagine this: you are in a wonderfully loving relationship, when all of a sudden, completely out of the blue, your partner enters an unbelievable rage. You get criticized over trivial matters that have happened in the past, you are told life is much worse with you, that you are the biggest mistake ever. You attempt to present your point of view and you argue back and forth for hours. Your partner just seems to want to argue, to hurt you, to blame you for everything.  She tells you she wants to leave you. She leaves the bedroom, and potentially leaves the house and goes to sleep in her car, or in another room.

You are left dazed, confused, angry, frustrated. What just happened?

Next day: the cold shoulder. Single word responses to your questions. She wants nothing to do with you. Another set of hurtful comments coming your way that night? You approach her for intimacy, and are soundly rejected.

You make attempts to make the peace, but all fails.

The attacks are brutal—they are just words, but they seem designed to attack your greatest sensitivities, which of course she knows. Rages can last for hours—yelling, doors slamming, storming out of the house, storming back in to fight more. I’m not joking.

The worst in my household has been a 12-hour episode over night.  Scary stuff.

My partner tends to fight at night—you know, you get nice and settled in bed, then very late at night, ka-boom.

So, what have I been attacked for in the PMDD zone? Here goes:

My attitude toward my kids, my attitude toward my partner's kids, my financial habits, my relationship to my ex, my sexual interests in bed, money, my family, what my partner’s ex partner’s girlfriend thinks of me, my libido, my job, that I’m just like my partner's ex, that I’ve ruined her life, that she can’t believe she’s with me, that she only takes pills to please me...And that’s just to name a few.

My own mind becomes so bleak. I feel hated. Maybe I am that horrible a man?

Doesn’t she realize she has a man right here who loves her? The kids hear it also, but as kids can, they somehow tune it out.  My work suffers badly as well (It is incredibly hard to focus when you’ve been arguing all night.).

A week or so later, my partner’s period starts. A couple more days of extreme caution and all will be well again.

This is the world of PMDD.

So, I start to research, and thanks to a family member, start thinking about monthly cycles and an internet search leads me to PMDD. My partner fits the textbook descriptions perfectly.

One of the problems with PMDD is that few people understand it, including doctors. I’ve been to counselors whose only contribution is, “Well, she must be angry about something—anger is an emotional choice.”

Not for a PMDD sufferer it’s not.

So what have I learned?

Probably the most important thing is to put up and shut up during the PMDD zone (this is the time from ovulation (about two weeks prior to period starting) to period starting). This is also the hardest thing.

What do I mean? Well, your partner starts get angry with you, looking to start a fight, or completely ignores all your desires, needs, and feelings. The only acceptable response is to agree with her views, no matter what you are actually thinking.

One of my latest scenarios was as follows:

My partner was doing a business course, and we both stayed up until 1:00 am to get an assignment done, with me supporting her in the process.

The next night, I had a sick child, so knew I was in for a long night. Partner is distant at night, and as we go to bed, tells me I don’t appreciate her at all. I end up spending most of the night nursing my child.

Come morning, I’m now exhausted from two nights with little sleep. Response from my PMDD partner—cold shoulder. I’ve been around PMDD for a while—but even for me this was too much, so I wrote her a letter outlining my frustrations with her behavior. Bad move. I get back a letter outlining why everything in the relationship is a problem (all because of me, of course). Old issues get dredged up and flung back in my face.

So, how should this be approached? Hard as it is, just giving your partner space, and ignoring the cold shoulder. PMDD sucks. To be honest, I can understand the rationale about just letting a PMDD partner get on with the rage/anger etc, but I’ve got no idea how to emotionally ignore it. It is beyond me, and it always hurts. Every month. I’ve seen it come and go heaps of times, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

A woman in the PMDD zone is angry. Really angry. Most the time she can keep a lid on it, but she’s still angry. Ask her too many questions, or ask her to do something she doesn’t want to, and you’ll find out just how angry. She’s also likely to be depressed. Really depressed.

Trust nothing she says in the zone.

My partner has talked about killing herself, moving to the other side of world, lied to me about money, all while in the zone.

I use a Smartphone app—P Tracker, to let me know when the PMDD zone is approaching. I’m always surprised though—the actual symptoms always hit me out of the blue—they tend to be so sudden. One minute my partner is her normally loving self, the next minute she is in a rage.

And so to intimate behavior. Best to not try and initiate or expect anything during the PMDD zone as the results can be brutal. Scorn springs to mind. I’m left feeling rejected and frustrated. It is probably easiest to just expect nothing from your partner in the zone and take matters into your own hands. And guys, you know what I mean.

How do I cope? I’m really not sure I do. Tracking in P Tracker helps, as I can refer back to how bad things were, and know that they straightened out again. When you are experiencing the zone, it can help. I re-read the blog posts here, also.

Do I feel hated and rejected each month? Yes, I do. Do I wish I wasn’t? Absolutely.

Do I wish my partner didn’t suffer PMDD? Yes. But she does.

The Voices of PMDD, The Other Side of PMDD

This week I'm going to redirect you to two of my favorite posts....after a while, posts get shuffled out of sight, and unless you know they exist, it's hard to find them.  But based on letters I've received and comments I've read over the past few weeks, these two are well worth posting again... 

The Other Side of PMDD

and

The Other Side of PMDD, Continued

Each is about what it is like to experience an episode of PMDD from inside a PMDD woman's mind.

May these posts bring you some answers and relief.  They can also be helpful for partners to read.

Be blessed,

Liana

Liana Laverentz is the award-winning author of two books on PMDD, PMDD and Relationships, and PMDD: A Handbook for Partners.  Both books are based on the most asked questions by her readers, and therefore the most popular posts on her blog, Living on a Prayer, Living with PMDD.  Both books are also an excellent resource for understanding your PMDD and starting a meaningful conversation with loved ones who want to know more about this debilitating disorder we live with daily. 

PMDD and Negativity

It may look like I'm just recycling posts, and I am to some extent, but these are really good posts that got shuffled down to the bottom of the popular posts list over time.  It doesn't mean they are any less informative or relevant.  Today's re-post is about the neural pathways we create in our brains, and how we can focus on turning around the negativity that comes with every episode of PMDD. 

In the meantime, I am working on three new posts, the first of which I hope to put up before the month is over.  All went well with my cerebral angiogram, I finally got the *all clear* for a full year, and so now I look forward to getting back into my research and writing, and having even more good posts and information for you to discover here at Living on A Prayer.

Thank you all for your encouragement and support this past year as I dealt with my aneurysms.  What a roller coaster ride it has been. 

The Voices of PMDD, The Bigger Bitch, by Michelle

Today I am grateful to be offering a guest post which perfectly sums up the PMDD struggles we face from within...because what people without PMDD don't realize is that during an episode of PMDD, we are fighting OURSELVES as much as we are fighting with them.  So thank you, Michelle, for putting into words what so many of us feel monthly - month after month, and year after year - when the dark side of PMDD hits. 

For more great posts from Michelle, please visit her blog at Why am I Happy?

When I awoke this morning it was a normal day, I felt like my normal self. Within two hours what had passed for normalcy faded in the face of criticism and judgment. And all of it from someone that I can’t just punch in the mouth like they deserve. It is coming from HER. She is the bitch... the illness, the voice of self-doubt, the one that tells me how much everyone hates me and how worthless I am. The arch villain to my super self, otherwise known as PMDD. 

So I sit low in my desk chair trying to not draw attention to myself, like the small, scared girl I have become. There is a mean, angry, judgmental authority figure standing over my shoulder berating me, no matter what I do, no matter where I go. I feel so beaten down and broken, so battered, a heavy weight on my shoulders.

What do you do when the abuse you suffer is generated in your own brain? There are no shelters to escape to, no safe places to be had. Like the typical victim, I try to find ways to placate her, to distract her, to take the focus off of me…but she is relentless.

So I sit quietly, waiting. Waiting for the storm to pass. Waiting for the silence of my own mind to return. Waiting to feel safe again. There are no more tears to cry for my battered self-esteem. Wishing I could curl up and hold my knees to my chest and rock myself to sleep, just to try and get away. 

But I can’t give in. 

People rely on me. I have to be the best I can be, the one that always comes through. I have to survive this day professionally and personally.

So, ‘Fuck you.’ I say. ‘Fuck you for lying to me and trying to break my confidence. Now excuse me while I turn up the music, have a donut and get shit done, bitch.’ 

Why? Because fuck this illness. Because sometimes the only way to deal with her is to be the bigger bitch, to remember this is my head, my life, my rules. Today I chose to take that challenge and shove it in her face and succeed despite her barrage of negativity. 

Today it worked.

Here’s hoping tomorrow is a better day and that we can all be the bigger bitch when necessary. 

Other posts along these lines that I would recommend reading are my own They Only See Our Failures, and A Perfect Storm of PMDD.

The Other Side of PMDD

"My wife has PMDD 2 weeks each month. I can now track it on a calendar. The meanness, sharp tongue, irritability, over-sensitivity to the slightest comment...it's all there each month, like clockwork. I used to make the mistake of reacting to her negativity, which results in a showdown at the OK Corral with talks of divorce, etc., etc. Now, I just keep my mouth shut, offer my help, not reacting to the negativity. It's not easy at all. My only escape is to go to the gym when it seems everything I do is wrong in her eyes. But I bear it each month because I love my wife and I know it's not her. I say she becomes Mr. Hyde once a month for 2 weeks, and I just learn to keep my mouth shut. A big exercise in tolerance and patience. If you love your wife or special someone, tolerance and patience are vital. If you don't have them, you will suffer."

This is my most recent comment.  I thank God for Anonymous, because it allows me to print this comment in full--and use it as the subject of this post. 

This man is suffering.  My heart goes out to him.  My admiration and respect go out to him as well, because he loves his wife and refuses to let her PMDD ruin, end, or dissolve their marriage. 

What he says is true.  "If you love your wife or special someone, tolerance and patience are vital.  If you don't have them, you will suffer." 

I suspect he is talking about himself, here, but he could just as easily be talking about the both of them.  Much is made over the suffering of the non-PMDD partner in a relationship.  But let me say this -  as much as you are suffering by being the brunt of her emotions, she is suffering at least twice as much inside.  She doesn't want to be doing what she is doing.  She is often as horrified as you are by what comes out of her mouth.  Perhaps in that moment a part of her malfunctioning brain wants you to suffer as she is suffering, but overall, none of us wants to have PMDD, much less every month.

To partners like the man above, I am grateful beyond measure.  One, because you treat your PMDD woman with love and respect, and two, because writing that comment allows me to see where you are coming from, and to respond to what you see from the outside with what is happening to me on the inside.

Notice I didn't say what is happening to your PMDD woman.  That, I can not know for sure...but by explaining what happens to me, I might be able to open the door to a conversation between the two of you about what happens to her.

I'm going through an episode right now.  It started about two days ago.  I'd like to say I can pinpoint when the slide began, but I can not.  It seems like a gradual shift, a slow sinking into the darkness, as opposed to coming out of an episode, which I have literally felt in my head when my "brain" snapped back into place.  The return to sanity can be instantaneous.  The gradual slide into anger, despair, and hopelessness can take what feels like forever. 

So...while this is what you are seeing on the outside--a moody, irrational, unreasonable, emotional, maybe even rude or strangely acting woman--I'm going to tell you what's happening on the inside.  My head hurts, my body hurts, I didn't want to wake up this morning.  I feel like I have been drugged.  My mouth is dry and there is a tightness behind my eyes reminiscent of a hangover, but I have not had any alcohol.  I feel fat and smelly and ugly.  Yesterday, in the hopes of cheering myself up, I decided to organize the photos from my Trip of a Lifetime six months ago.  In every single photo I was in, I hated how I looked. 

Normally, my looks do not bother me.  At all, as I know I am loved just the way I am.  Yesterday, I was obsessed with my body image.  Couldn't find enough flaws to point out to myself. 

Okay, so that project didn't turn out.  Yesterday, I also went to a funeral.  It might not have been the best of ideas, but really, you have no choice when these things happen.  You either go or you don't go.  I felt that paying my respects was more important than hiding in my cave.  I waited until the last half hour of the viewing, so that if anything went awry, I had a natural exit.  As it turned out, there were several people there I would have loved to have stayed and talked with.  Sad circumstances, but I enjoyed seeing them all again just the same. 

The funeral itself was lovely and poignant...one of the most beautiful services I have ever attended...

But it sparked thoughts of death and dying for the rest of the day.  Who's going to go next?  How long do I have?  How many of us will be here next year?  What do I want to do with the time I have left?

This very question nearly devolved into an argument between myself and my partner last night.  Normally I am happy to let life unfold as it will.  Last night there was an urgency, an almost desperation behind my thoughts and words.  We need to do this, and we need to do that, and we need to do it NOW. 

I will feel very foolish when that feeling goes away next week.  I know this already. 

If he had argued with me instead of  patiently "listened" to me, I would have (at least mentally) declared the relationship hopeless and over.  There would have been harsh words and an explosion of tears. 

I suppose I should be happy that I'm only going to feel foolish.  Especially if he takes my dark words to heart....while I've blissfully gone back to my "It's all good" mode.

If you were my partner, wouldn't you be confused?

Another example:  Our church music minister plays guitar, has a beautiful voice, and chooses upbeat songs.  Normally I love to sing along with her.  Last night her music irritated the hell out of me.  She didn't do anything different.  I was the one who was different.

Inside.  Inside I was different.  But I never let on, not on the outside.  If I had, I'd only come off as crazy.

When we got back to the car, after a very uplifting service, I told my partner, "Right now, I could tell you what is wrong with anything.  You just name it, and I will tell you what is wrong with it."

This is where the "I can't do anything right" sentiment comes from in partners of PMDD women.

I spent most of yesterday alone, as my partner was busy elsewhere.  Even while my PMDD self was irritated beyond words at that, I was glad that he was not here, having to bear the brunt of my irrationality.  I knew, as he would have known had he been here, that there was absolutely nothing he could do right yesterday.

So it was best that he was elsewhere.  The same went for my son.  He walked in the door, aiming for a quick change of clothes, and within two minutes I was not speaking to him.  It was best for him, and for myself.  He left after giving me a big hug and telling me he loves me.  As I shut the door behind him my thoughts were, "Yeah, right."

I adore my son, and we get along great.  Anybody who knows us knows he loves me, too.  He can get manipulative, like kids do, and I let him, like Moms do, but the love is always there. 

Not yesterday.  Even though it was being freely offered, I wasn't feeling it.

Yesterday I was feeling my most unloveable.  Old, dumb, lazy, overwhelmed, uncertain, weepy, morbid, incompetent, uncaring and unkind.  In real life, I am none of those things.  If anyone had been around me yesterday...if I had not spent the day alone (except for the funeral)...I would have snapped and snarled all day.  Why? 

Because I was feeling extremely vulnerable.  I was feeling worthless, useless, and like every decision I'd ever made in my life had been wrong.

Hello?

For one, that's not even possible.  But there you go.  PMDD doesn't make sense. 

So you're walking around, feeling gross physically, mentally, and emotionally, and you just...well, you're miserable inside.  Nothing can make you happy, and nobody better try...because if they try they will fail, you'll see to that...and if they don't try....well, you'll have something to say about that, too.

It's no wonder I get letters from PMDD women who fear they will spend the rest of their lives alone.  Who can deal with someone like that?  Where nothing you do is right for days, sometimes weeks, on end.

Yesterday I could have gone on a rant like you wouldn't believe about what was wrong in my life.

Funny, I was perfectly happy with my life three days ago.  Feeling rather blessed, actually.

Okay, so this personality change is bewildering enough to watch from the outside.  Try to imagine what it feels like from the inside.  Try to imagine what it feels like when your brain feeds you lies all day long.  Nobody likes you, everybody hates you, you're nothing but a big screw-up, a slob, a loser, a bad (mom, sister, daughter, friend, wife, girlfriend - fill in the blank), you're fat, you're ugly, you're disorganized and uncoordinated and talentless, your life is a mess, even your own (fill in the blank here) doesn't like you....

You spend all your energy fighting off these lies in your head.  Another blogger, Laura, put it really well.  PMDD is a bully.  So here you are, being bullied by your PMDD.  You're feeling your worst, and at your weakest.  Someone says something to you.  Something that in your PMDD state, your brain twists around to the most negative implication possible.

What are you going to do...fight or flight?

The primitive brain has us fighting.  That's where I think my brain goes during an episode of PMDD.  Into primitive, reptilian, survival mode.  It's fight or flight, survival of the fittest, baby, and I'm going to see to it that you go down in flames.

The opposite of fighting is withdrawal.  Withdrawal into ourselves--where we let the PMDD bully run rampant inside us--and withdrawal into depression--where we accept what the PMDD bully says, and beat ourselves up even after he or she is long gone.

Try living with a bully inside your head for two weeks a month and see how long you last before you lose it one way or another.  Either through anger or tears, or both.

So yes, while it is undoubtedly hard on our partners and the friends and family who love us, keep in mind that PMDD is no picnic for the woman herself, either. 

She's doing the best she can with a temporarily malfunctioning brain.  She doesn't want to ruin your party, your weekend, your vacation, relationship, or marriage.

She just wants to feel safe, from demons neither of you can see.