PMDD Symptom Play by Play Number 1

The following guest post was written by the blogger 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.

Talking and writing openly about Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder is something I'm compelled to do, both for myself, other women, and the people who love us. I'm trying to understand myself and this very complicated phenomenon that seems to slip and shift into unrecognizable forms within a recognizable framework every month. Since learning about PMDD, I am now free to witness the cyclical changes taking place in my body and mind with some objectivity. As my body becomes more and more sensitive to the hormones surging through it, I'm less fearful about why I'm suddenly losing control, wondering how much worse it will get. It's easier to pay attention to the process, fascinated and taking notes.

Truly, as hard as it is to understand, things can be very different month to month. What I've done here is journal some of my symptoms in the days leading up to one period a few months ago. Were I to do this monthly, no doubt the expression of symptoms could be different each time. Typically, women begin to experience symptoms 14 to 11 days out from menstruation. The actual period tends to bring relief either instantly or within a couple of days. But again, this is only generally speaking. What I have garnered on the forums and from my own experience is there are exceptions to this rule, and a woman should not rule out PMDD just because she doesn't fit some erroneous profile that was originally established on a very small base of women. And if, like me, your hormones are in flux anyway due to perimenopause, you might indeed be a bit all over the symptom map!

With 11 days to go...The first thing I notice is an almost instant loss of my sense of humor. It was there one second, gone the next. My husband noticed it since we had been laughing for days prior. It isn't that things have ceased being humorous so much as that I have stopped being able to find humor in them. Even my face feels like it has forgotten how to move upward into a smile. The next thing I finally notice is growing fatigue. In fact, I'd slept 12 hours for two nights in three days. This is an absurdly long amount for me to sleep. I didn't even wake to relieve my bladder which is a common occurrence during a night of much less sleep. I gave into this need for sleep instead of fighting it off, and I think it did me a world of good. I also notice my body feeling colder. I wear a sweater and my hands ache with cold even though the temperature isn't that different from weeks prior. Then there's the hunger. I'd probably be eating all day long if I could. The menu? Salty chips, roasted nuts, dark chocolate, and butter on all manner of cakey-bready things. Unfortunately, the baker where we used to get our organic sourdough stopped taking orders, so I'm left with unfulfilled pangs and cravings for hot buttered toast or French toast. When it comes to food, I know I can't give into every craving anyway. I'd be the size of a buffalo. So, I balance things as best I can eating oat crackers and high-quality chocolate along with the grapefruit and parsley juice and salad and fruit. For the weeks leading up to this time, I was making banana shakes using almond milk, including the spices turmeric, cardamom, and cinnamon...each known to alleviate various PMDD symptoms like depression. I've also started taking magnesium which is supposed to help with symptoms. We'll see if I notice anything.

With 6 or 7 days to go...I felt like I was doing better this time around contrasted with last month. Is it the spices? The magnesium? Luck? I've noticed that, generally, I have good months and bad months. This makes the whole concept of PMDD even harder to understand and, for some, to believe. And yet, other women express the same experience. Some say every third period is the worst. I seem to have three on, three off...way off. Will this be a good month? Weepiness has set in and my legs are starting to feel like two leaden logs, so maybe it is too soon to tell. (Note from Liana: this good month/bad month pattern has been explained by whether or not the woman is ovulating.  If  you ovulate, you will experience PMDD symptoms.  As we enter perimenopause, we have fewer and fewer ovulations.  No ovulation = no symptoms.)

5 days and my mind is off and racing. I can't stop over-analyzing, over-thinking, and over-compensating. Some who know me might say I'm always like that. Okay, so, imagine that ramped up by 10. I've become afraid of the world, and what were merely challenges have become insurmountable obstacles. My husband is doing his best to distract me and also to listen to me without himself becoming depressed and defeated. Somehow, I've managed to regain my sense of humor, and this is really saving the day. Squirrel! 

4-2 days: Could I actually get through this month without losing it completely? I've had three social obligations in the last three days, and though as an introvert I'm feeling the drain, it isn't debilitating. The fact that I could even be social just a few days before my period is somewhat of a miracle.

1 day to go and everything I thought I'd managed to escape this cycle has come down full-force. The internal pressure I feel...how to describe it...has increased dramatically, making me very antsy...agitated. I feel like a combustible material. Pour the wrong remark over me and I will blow up.

So what happened next? I was attempting to control an out-of-hand ant problem (yes, ironic...me being antsy and all). My husband was pressuring me to leave for grocery shopping because the stores would close soon. He wasn't helping or taking part in what I saw as a near-disaster. Yes, I realize ants are not a near-disaster, but PMDD magnifies everything by about 1000. Couldn't he see what I was dealing with? I became furious.

So my husband asks, "Why are you acting like an asshole?"

Wrong move. That was it. The end of marital bliss. I may well have been an asshole, but I didn't need anyone pointing it out to me, thank you very much. I tore the shopping list in two, gave him his half and wished him luck. Despite wanting to call a truce in the market, I couldn't bring myself to do it because of the way he was now behaving...like an asshole.

The thing is, if I act like a big-enough asshole, then eventually, so does my husband. And then, we're lost. We're lost for an hour, a day, a week...hard to tell. But I know I can't engage with him AT ALL if he's also going to be a two-year old. And then I hate him because he doesn't have a "hormotional" excuse and could be making all this so much easier for us both.  (emphasis added)

Why couldn't he just have grabbed me, hugged me, and told me the ants were a little problem and that if I could just walk away I would feel better? Herein lies the greatest PMDD difficulty for me and countless others. Our behavior becomes exceedingly difficult if not impossible to control. (Liana adds: and once we have reached that tipping point, we are literally unable to go back, to retreat, to regain control.  All our efforts to soften our PMDD symptoms (meditation, herbs, vitamins, exercise, rest, nutrition, mantras, art or music therapy) are done in an effort to not reach that tipping point.  Because once we have, all is lost for that day or that PMDD episode. This is what most people do not understand.  We can't stop, once the emotional cascade begins.)

We're not doing it to be difficult. We're not doing it because we like throwing tantrums. We don't even get any pleasure out of it. Well, maybe some do. I don't. Mostly, I see a madwoman taking over my body and wonder how on earth to reach her, calm her, and love her. It is no easier for our significant others who try desperately to understand us as we're suddenly shooting daggers at them when five minutes ago they could do no wrong.

My husband and I talk about this stuff when we can. When I'm back to my old self again and after he's recovered, we talk about this funny thing called PMDD. We strategize and decide we can handle it. We make-up and go about our lives...laughing, loving, sometimes bugging each other, but getting over it. But then, when it rolls around again, it seems neither one of us remembers what to do. It's a common amnesia.

When I can, I will do another symptom play by play post. In the meantime, have you noticed similar symptoms in your own or a loved one's life?

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.

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?

The Voices of PMDD - Battling the Darkness

Today's powerful guest post was written by Amanda Van Slyke, Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Flurt Magazine.  For more information, please visit Flurt's Facebook Page.

Every month around this time the darkness swallows me up. It seems to happen in an instant, where I previously felt more creative and fulfilled than I've felt in a long time. Just before the lights go out, I climb mountains of work that I've been trying to reach for weeks. I write essays full of passion and reach out to others for emotional connection. I walk down the street smiling ear to ear, thinking that maybe – hopefully, this time – I've escaped the torture I see others endure online. They post about how they can't do this anymore – about how it happens every month, and every month like clockwork it's the same thing – feelings of hopelessness, loneliness and isolation. But I am happy. I eat well and do yoga and meditate and run – everything you're supposed to do to get rid of the darkness. I think that if only people did what I did, they'd feel just as great as I do. I am the exception to the rule.

When I was younger, I came to a point where I'd felt like I had already died. I was a shell of a person, barely leaving my bed because of the fatigue and depression, stuffing my face with whatever temporarily took away the pain. I barely escaped to the west coast to get away from the darkness before it swallowed me whole – and I saw a lifestyle that could make me feel better. I stopped drinking, stopped eating sugar and dairy and gluten – and I know how you all feel about gluten, but it worked. For the first time in my life, my face cleared up. My bloated belly flattened. When I filled my body with fuel instead of poison, my energy started to come back. My depression started to lift. I could feel the oxygen coming back into my bloodstream. The more I took care of my body, the more I saw God through me – and I was an atheist.

I know that sometimes people take medication – SSRIs mixed with therapeutic conversation – and believe me, I've been on so many pills I considered swallowing them all at once. But pills took away something far deeper than the darkness – they took away my ability to feel your toes tingle and your whole body remember what spirituality feels like. And for me, I'm not willing to give up my God – the one that speaks to me through my own moans and screams. To me, feeling that numbness inside me might as well as be the death of me. So I tapered off my medication – well, after I tried to go cold turkey, and my boyfriend almost broke up with me. When I finally felt I was myself again – the one I had been searching for and didn't know could exist – I wanted everyone to know about the revolution.

And the revolution came in a plant based crusade. I felt like I had finally found a cure for the darkness. I went two years without eating meat, and I was so skinny my panties fell to the floor. But I still said that I was part of the movement. I shared photos of my recipes online, and talked about how well I was doing. But away from the limelight my diet fluctuated just as much as much as my mood. Just like I'd tapered off my medication, I tapered off fuel for my body, replacing it with poison – processed foods that were easy, thinking that just a little bit of junk food would make the pain go away. Because the pain never did, regardless of what I was eating. If I gave in and reached for the poison, it would spread throughout my body and the pain would inflate my belly and the lights would go out. And then I would say, "Screw it," like the people online that I thought just needed to be more like me.

I know now the darkness is inevitable. I know I need to do my best to choose the light – and that I won't choose it every day, nor will anyone else – even the gurus on Instagram who post photos of food I don't have the money to make. Because the darkness isn't a place where you only go when you're weak. Diet and exercise and medication is for the privileged – and I'm privileged enough – but sometimes I don't have much money for food or the will to leave my apartment, so I reach for something I know will be easy but harder in the long run. And then I spiral down – feeling hopeless, lonely, and isolated – where my only friend is the poison that I know will kill me. Because people die from this.

The darkness leaves you feeling like there's a hole where your heart should be – where you try to fill it with things to make the pain subside. Junk food, alcohol, sex, and drugs. But the real misery comes when you realize these things are never going to be enough. It comes from the knowledge that only finding self love can fill that hole – and trying to love yourself is hard when you never did. Once you see it's just you and the darkness, you can either stay up til morning or go to sleep. And while it's easy to say some are weak for not fighting, I don't blame them.

Because right now, I am unhappy. I walk around my apartment with swollen eyes, moping about how I'm just like everyone else, posting online about how I can't do this anymore, about how it happens every month, and every month like clockwork the darkness returns. But I know that soon the light will appear – so for today, I eat well, do yoga, meditate and run. I know it isn't a “cure,” but I know the more I take care of my body the more I'll see God through me. And maybe she can give me strength so I can see the light another day and remember what it's like to be happy – to smile ear to ear, thinking that maybe – hopefully, this time – I've escaped the darkness.

PMDD in the Trenches -- A Partner Speaks Out

Hello. My wife is a survivor of PMDD and successfully had a hysterectomy last year.

Everybody's partner has their own unique perspective, story, and battle scars. However, I can only imagine what it is or was like for each and every woman that has battled uphill fighting PMDD. My story plays out in three segments: Pre-PMDD, PMDD in the trenches, and post-PMDD.  I'll present the first two here today.

Pre-PMDD: The Quiet Volcano

Before our daughter was born, my wife had fundamental characteristics, that looking back now could have somewhat prepared us for what was to be PMDD. However, I am not a doctor and I don't play one on TV and I am not the Amazing Kreskin, so in hindsight, it wasn't our fault that we were not able to predict the future. We had a wonderful courtship, engagement, and newlywed life; everything that you would want pre-children.

But bubbling under the surface was the volcano. I still somewhat to this day wished I had been a more cognizant partner. Maybe those fundamental characteristics could have prepared me to be on the lookout postpartum. I am a planner. I like to stick to schedules, show up on time, and live by the preparation sword. So you can imagine that when my wife and PMDD met; it was nothing you can prepare for.

No partner can gameplan to tackle PMDD head-on. Heck, 90% of the country hasn't even heard of it. Those of you who might be reading this as a partner, might feel the same way I did. I implore you to step back and give yourself some reprieve today and every day moving forward. Likely now you might be in the thick of it, or maybe you're in the [somewhat more peaceful] post-PMDD phase. All you can do [either way] is live in the present moment because there is no point--I promise you--in focusing on anything else [when you are in the throes of PMDD].

PMDD in the Trenches

I can honestly say there has never been a period in my life and during my married life that I felt the walls caving in like they were during "PMDD in the trenches." This is where all the battle scars happened, horrible words were thrown around, bombs dropped, and at the end of it all there were no winners. It was nearly a 5 year period of some of the most tumultuous scenes of my life played out for all to see sometimes, sometimes played out in a shroud of silence. Scenes that looked like they could have been on a Thursday Night Lifetime Movie event, or sometimes things that you see on the local news channel --Yeah, that bad. Remember, I'm a planner; I like things in order, I believe that all things have a place...I am a huge advocate for keeping my life as efficiently run as a possible. My wife having PMDD was the antithesis of all those things.

PMDD ran our life. It was a Gestapo, a real son of a bitch. My wife's life was controlled by a parasitic mind fuck over mind, body, and soul. It took everything out of her and undoubtedly took everything out of me. I wanted to quit. I wanted to run away. I wanted nothing more than to take my children away and never come back. I found solitude in imaginary places that existed far from my wife and far away from any PMDD.

For 2 weeks a month, we were at the mercy of PMDD. It had a massive effect on our lives. I lived by the theory of "hope." I continually held out hope that things would improve. Maybe this month she won't want to lock herself in the closet. Maybe this month she'll want to parent her children. Maybe this month she won't have a panic attack. Maybe this month she'll toughen up--Yes I was thinking that, sadly enough. I was desperate for truth...Desperate for answers....Desperate for normalcy.

I knew as much as she did. I knew probably as much as some of the doctors & therapists knew. What I knew more than anybody though is I still loved my wife through and through. I wasn't going to run, though I wanted to. I wasn't going to get divorced, though I wanted to. I just wanted PMDD to stop ruining our lives. I wanted my lovely wife healthy, happy, balanced, and present--no longer consumed by the heavy fog that is PMDD. I can honestly say we were both held as emotional hostages each and every month.  By a pair of ovaries.

Note from Liana:  A hysterectomy alone will not eliminate PMDD.  If you choose this treatment option, you  need to have the ovaries removed as well.  PMDD stems from something that starts in the ovaries.

I encourage you all today to hold out hope. Hope is all we have. Like Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption said to Red, "Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." I am glad I held out hope because, know this....there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is an end [to PMDD] and a post-PMDD world exists......

More on this next week.  

PMDD and Relationships - Buy with this link and the Gia Allemand Foundation gets a Donation

On sale now for Kindle at Amazon.  Click on the hyperlink below the cover in this post to take you to the link. Ebook versions are available at Smashwords as well.  Also available in print at Amazon.  A donation goes to the Gia Allemand Foundation for every Amazon sale when you sign in to Amazon Smile, and choose the Gia Allemand Foundation as your charity.  Doing so doesn't cost you a penny extra.  In return, you receive more than 220 pages of understanding what it's like to be in a relationship when you have PMDD, and how to make your relationships better.

Use this link for the Gia Allemand Foundation to get a donation

PMDD doesn't do normal, but every woman who lives the monthly nightmare that is Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder deserves to have strong, true, and lasting relationships, just like her non-PMDD enduring friends.  Based on the most-read posts in the blog Living on a Prayer, Living with PMDD, this book is for people in difficult relationships and focuses on how to deal with a loved one's PMDD.

Written with chapters for both the woman trying to cope with her PMDD, and her partner, PMDD and Relationships fills a need for understanding and hope.  Understanding of this often debilitating disorder that affects 3 - 8% of menstruating women, and hope for a normal life with friends and family.

Topics include how to develop a network of support and encouragement, and how to enjoy deep and abiding relationships in the midst of hormonal chaos.  You are not alone, and there is no reason for you to stay alone unless you choose to.  Even then, PMDD and Relationships can help you to deal with your PMDD and the world around you in a way that brings renewed joy into the life you were meant to live.

PMDD and Relationships

On sale now for Kindle at Amazon.  Click on the cover to take you to the link. Also available in print at Amazon. Over 220 pages of understanding what it's like to be in a relationship when you have PMDD.

PMDD doesn't do normal, but every woman who lives the monthly nightmare that is Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder deserves to have strong, true, and lasting relationships, just like her non-PMDD enduring friends.  Based on the most-read posts in the blog Living on a Prayer, Living with PMDD, this book is for people in difficult relationships and focuses on how to deal with a loved one's PMDD.

Written with chapters for both the woman trying to cope with her PMDD, and her partner, PMDD and Relationships fills a need for understanding and hope.  Understanding of this often debilitating disorder that affects 3 - 8% of menstruating women, and hope for a normal life with friends and family.

Topics include how to develop a network of support and encouragement, and how to enjoy deep and abiding relationships in the midst of hormonal chaos.  You are not alone, and there is no reason for you to stay alone unless you choose to.  Even then, PMDD and Relationships can help you to deal with your PMDD and the world around you in a way that brings renewed joy into the life you were meant to live.

PMDD Doesn't Do Normal

A guest post from a reader who understands her PMDD well, but didn't always...didn't understand it at all for more than two decades...  I am posting this because she could be any one of us...  Any one of us at all.  

Living amongst demons.…

I THOUGHT I suffered depression for years and the depression was like a rollercoaster sometimes out of control and sometimes more manageable but always there in the corner like an unwanted house guest. 

I THOUGHT I “just” had bad PMS and could get enraged at the drop of a hat.

I THOUGHT that was just my way of life now—I was unhappy in my marriage but accredited that to my issues with ‘depression’.

I THOUGHT about all the symptoms I had and how some didn’t quite fit in the depression tick list and how I couldn’t even fit depression correctly.

I THOUGHT pills were a way of life but why did they never really resolve anything?  I would up my dosage until I couldn’t anymore...only to find the rollercoaster was now an even wilder ride than before.

Then, just over 2 years ago, after receiving counselling for a childhood issue, I found the courage to leave my unhappy marriage. I spent some time alone and the plan going forward was to concentrate on me and my children and this ‘depression’ that had blighted my life…

...only life doesn’t go to plan and instead I ended up meeting and falling in love with the man who was to change my life in so many ways, including discovering PMDD.

The unveiling of a Monster….

Through a series of unrelated events I met my PMDD.

So here I was, deliriously happy, in love for the first time in what felt like an eternity…

An innocent joke made by a friend:  “You may be happy now but has he seen you at that time of the month, kicking cupboards, punching walls, and slapping him?  That love at first sight feeling may drain then, eh?”

I laughed, and said, “I never hit my ex—always punched objects or throwable items only.  Kicked a few doors through.ˮ

My friend realized I was being serious and asked, “Are you serious?”

“Yes.  Every woman does for a couple of weeks before their period, don't they?”

“Er, no.”

Silence.

Growing up, periods and “embarrassing” women’s problems were not talked about in my house.  At all. I wasn’t told what periods are. I instead have an horrifying memory of blood trickling down my leg in the school changing rooms and me sprinting all the way home, crying, thinking I was dying. My mother ran through a textbook version of This is why and don’t talk about it...

...So I didn’t.

Until a joke about periods made me wonder.

Isnʼt it NORMAL? Doesn’t every woman have extreme rage over silly things? And I don’t mean get a bit moody (although that is in abundance also) but no… rage, like a bubbling anger inside you, a pressure cooker just waiting to explode at the most unexpected time?

Isnʼt it NORMAL?  Doesn’t everyone bleed so a packet of Always can be polished off in a day?  Doesn't everyone have to wear two pads at a time and it still ruins clothes and underwear?

Isnʼt it NORMAL? Doesn’t everyone have a migraine about two weeks before the big day? Not just any old migraine, but a crippling, debilitating, every-sound-is-magnified-and-echoes-around-your-head-like-tiny-hammers migraine, where your strongest painkiller that usually packs your headache away in minutes won’t touch this baby—in fact, it reduces you to tears every month?

Isn’t it NORMAL that your stomach swells to the size of three large melons for a couple of weeks a month, so that none of your clothes fit anymore?

Isn't it NORMAL that cravings take over, where every carbohydrate becomes your best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one?

Isn’t it NORMAL that anxiety reaches climaxes that debilitate you, where day-to-day tasks feel like a high endurance challenge you haven’t the energy to even think about, let alone complete? Where facing people in any situation makes your heart feel like it is going to pound out of your chest?

Isn’t it NORMAL that depression pushes you deep into a pit where you feel complete despair but don’t really understand why, and nothing positive can be included in your world right now because no positivity exists anymore and the world is a dark hell?

Isnʼt it NORMAL to experience so much pain during your period you feel you should be in a hospital, and not on a couch with a hot water bottle?

Isn’t it NORMAL to not be able to look in the mirror because you are so unhappy with this person vacantly staring back at you?

I started to suspect maybe not, maybe this isn’t NORMAL after all...

...then came the Eureka moment, the grand unveiling of my PMDD.

This came from being in so madly in love that one second away from this man made my heart ache…

then suddenly…

I am looking at this man and wondering Why am I with you?

I don’t fancy you.

I definitely don’t love you.

My man protests. “Whatʼs wrong?  You do love me, darling.  Look at all these texts, these photos, these little love videos we sent to each other!ˮ

And then he says:  “Why does this keep coming up every now and then? I don’t understand!ˮ

So I look at these texts, these videos, these photos of a happy couple—but it’s not real.  It isn’t me.  That can’t be me.  Not the real me.  I can’t just “imagineˮ all of these negative feelings I am feeling now, in this moment, not to be real.

“No! Youʼre lying!ˮ

Now I am angry at you.  “Don’t lie! I wouldn’t love you!ˮ

Now youʼre clicking my pressure cooker rage on. I DON’T FANCY YOU, NEVER HAVE, NEVER WILL, AND NEVER WILL LOVE YOU….

Then my period comes and I am awash with love for my man, my beautiful man.

I am now full of another feeling—guilt—guilt that I have treated my beloved like a stranger, and an incompetent, unattractive, unlovable stranger at that. I feel like I was featured in an episode of Supernatural and was being possessed by a demon.

I could see what the demon was doing but had no control until the period exorcised it from my body and mind.

So now it was clear… The reason it wasn’t crystal clear to me for the 20 years previously was my unhappy marriage.  It is easy to blame depression and complete lack of insight regarding a woman’s cycle, but now I have found my soul mate and for two weeks a month we have a relationship that people find sickeningly sweet, the kind where “You put the phone down first, I love you,ˮ “No, you, I love you more…” so WHY, WHY would that change?

EUREKA! 

PMDD!

So for the last two years I have been researching this demon, liaising with my doctors, checking, comparing, having ovulation tests, making notes, diary entries...

...and the conclusion is this monster lives in a closet in my head until it’s time for its centre stage moment.

What have I learned?

PMDD is like a chameleon that can adapt and change to capture its enemy and inflict the most damage.

For example: it goes for my relationship feelings, every month, but my partner is amazing.  We adapt better, we know when it is coming.  I get a mist, literally a mist, I look around and it is like the room has suddenly become foggy. This is my sign it is here, the monster has arrived....

So we don’t panic anymore. We go to PMDD mode.  I give the heads up to my partner.  Instead of sloppy love texts, just four words set in place a temporary change in our relationship.

“the mist has arrived”

From this moment on we are now buddies, just good friends, no attempt at affection because he knows I no longer love him, he knows when what he is saying or doing is setting the pressure cooker switch to on so he backs off, allows me to explode in a safe way or just allows the hurtful words to roll off him.

I am lucky. I have a partner who can help me get through another month, survive another cycle.

BUT…

PMDD is clever.  As I said, it adapts. So now it knows I am getting good at battling my demons. So now it changes... now it cranks my anxiety up to uncontrollable levels where I am panicking about everything and anything... I worry my children will fall down stairs, will choke when cleaning their teeth, my partner is going to be killed in a car crash, have an electric shock from the toaster… and bigger and bigger, more extreme thoughts, thoughts that don’t stop….

It throws me into a pit of depression where I can’t leave my bed for days. Everything anyone says around me sounds loud and doesn’t make sense. 

Why doesn’t anyone understand this hell I am in?

There is no way out… the world seems a dark place… I am broken….

So far I haven’t found anything that pulls me out of this pit of despair.  For now PMDD has won yet another round.  I will let it have its minor victory until I can adapt, until I can change, until I can throw up a quick ladder out of the pit, until I can press pause on the vortex of negative thoughts that engulf me…

And so it is… My cycles have now become rounds in a boxing match… Some I will lose, and some I will fight, and will come out battered…exhausted…bruised… and a little more clued up to this hidden enemy.

But for once, I fit a symptom tick list…

I now KNOW what I am dealing with.  And that PMDD is not NORMAL.

And that makes all the difference. 

Until the next round, PMDD.

I will be waiting.

~K

The Voices of PMDD, Bearing our Crosses

My marriage of 15 years is one in which my wife has only in the last five years realized that this "might be PMS," and only discovered the identity of PMDD in the last two years.  In hindsight, I can see elements of PMS or PMDD even in our dating relationship but over the years we both attributed those elements to something more akin to an assertive personality.

After the birth of our last child, a time that coincided with some family financial distress, she began losing her ability to hold on to reality.  Whatever the first cause, I am losing my ability to hang on too.

Her statements speak of great, deep darkness.  She can see no hope.  She speaks of a switch that goes off and on but she is often unable to identify that it is on PMDD for several days.  By then much damage has been done.

As honestly as I can assess the situation, I am not an "unsupportive" husband.  I have learned, however, that support is not usually offering solutions.  She mostly needs someone to listen and be present with her.  Being present, though, means reminding her by my mere presence of the multiplicity of faults and results in my being berated and hearing about how I have made everything hopeless. 

I try to serve but in these times everything is wrong including what I might choose to do to help.  I have gotten to the point where my mind is swimming and I cannot focus on anything much at all in or out of PMDD time.  She has a switch, I do not.  She goes back to normal and wonders why I am so moody.  In her better times, she is sympathetic and apologetic.

We are both working on it.  She is trying to find solutions; I am trying to stay close as long as possible and take as many blows as I can without crumbling.  We are both bearing our crosses.