Showing posts with label low self esteem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label low self esteem. Show all posts
Saturday, April 14, 2018
The Voices of PMDD: Sharing our Struggles
Today we have a guest post from a woman who has taken what I think is the very healthy step of naming her PMDD. Naming your PMDD helps to separate you from your disorder. You are not your PMDD and that is what we all need to remember when PMDD strikes. We are more than our PMDD, and better than our PMDD.
I call her Agatha.
Some
of you may have met her unknowingly. Her presence is noticed only by my
few nearest and dearest...and even most of them don’t understand her.
I’ve decided to talk about Agatha because I spend so much time as/with
her, I am tired of trying to explain myself, or feel guilty, or
desperately sad that things annoy me when they shouldn’t even make a
shadow.
Agatha
is my PMDD...or who I am for up to two weeks out of the month.
Yes...EVERY month. I have PMDD...Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder. Have you heard of PMT (or PMS if you’re American)? Well, PMDD also has to do with the
menstrual cycle, but is a million time worse. Maybe a billion...at least. After I have ovulated and the hormone levels
change, so do I. I become someone that has taken me years to recognise,
and more to understand. I describe it as having the ‘Dementor’s Kiss’;
Harry Potter fans will of course understand the reference. For the rest
of you, that is when all of the happiness you have ever felt,
experienced, or hoped for, is sucked out of your soul, leaving you with
no choice except to dwell on every bad thing that has ever happened to
you...in the deepest pit of despair.
I
now understand it has got worse the older I get, because I have more
experiences. So there’s more happy to be sucked away, and more pain to
be left with. PMDD doesn’t just mess with your mind and soul, it likes
to play with your body too. Any pre-existing conditions are highlighted
and heightened...luckily for me, I have a back condition, so usually I
am in considerable extra pain in the lead up to the bleed. I also get a
barely-controllable eczema outbreak, and permanent, draining headaches.
Then there’s being so tired, that I’m not sure if I’ve been to sleep.
And I’m pretty positive that the world tricks me by deciding to speak a
different language to me...because I haven’t got a clue how to
distinguish between words, let alone decipher what they are saying. It’s
all very confusing, and delays cause you to feel very silly; therefore,
it’s better not to talk to anyone.
Ah...but
wait! Why would anyone want to talk to you anyway? You are nothing, and
nobody. Your past experiences have shown you that, right? There’s no
hope for you, so stay put and don’t move, because nobody wants you. Your
children can’t stand you, you’re so irritable, and their noise hurts
your oversensitive ears. They also want you to come out of your dark,
safe hole - they want food, they want to talk to you, but they are far
too loud for you, and they would be better off without you...right?
You’re lucky your back is screwed, and your muscles are aching in every
area, because then you can’t drag your unwanted, pathetic self into the
road for some juggernaut to put the world out of its misery, fed up of
having to have your unworthy ass live in it....no one could possibly
want you around, and you should probably top yourself to do them a
favour. Everyone you know would have a greater life without you in it.
The
disillusionment of the world eats you up, the unfairness of “the
system” has you physically aching for the world to end. You dislike your
family, you don’t want to talk to your friends...and there is nothing
but pain and despair.
And
then one day, I wake up and something feels different. I have a harsh
stomach cramp, but that’s nothing compared to the aches and pains of the
previous week. I smile at my text messages, and I kiss my husband - it
feels nice. Everything feels nice, and everything looks nice. I go to
wake my children up with the biggest hugs and talk about upcoming plans
for fun things. Oh wow, I also need sex. Like NOW. I want sex ALL the
time (see, there is an up side to imbalanced hormones!) my mind and body
are depraved instead of in pain. It feels good. And I wake up the next
day feeling the same...and so on. I have a wonderful two weeks of coping
with everything and having big smiles, and then something happens that
will either irritate the crap out of me, or a loud noise hurts my ears,
or I wake up and can’t move because of back pain...so I check the
calendar - shit, it’s Agatha time.
I
gave the person I become a name, so I can fight myself, tell myself
‘it’s just Agatha, she’ll go soon, just hold on’. This is my most recent
tool for the battle - after exhausting diets, exercise, herbal
treatments, vitamins, finally giving in to my Doctor and attempting
anti-depressants. Nothing works. So it’s me against her.
She’s
getting stronger, and I can feel her on her way. I’m not ready, I’m
still not over last month’s visit. I want to keep smiling...but no, time
to batten down the hatches, because she will be here by the weekend; I
will be forced to face every demon I have ever encountered, and I’m
scared.
Can’t
give up though, I have to keep fighting. I can now differentiate
between who I am, and what is caused by her. It’s me against her....
.....c’mon then bitch.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
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
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
Monday, October 6, 2014
PMDD and Making Hard Choices, a Guest Post by Kit
In my Voices of PMDD series, we spent the summer of 2014 hearing from women with PMDD and their partners, through blogposts describing the struggles and challenges they face monthly. Going into fall, I'd like to focus on some solutions various women with PMDD have found. Since every woman's PMDD is different in the symptoms she feels and the severity of those symptoms, not every suggestion regarding relief will work, but I offer these posts in the hopes that something will strike a chord somewhere, and at least put you on the path to lessening your PMDD pain, be it physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual.
Today's guest post is written by Kit, and comes filled with great wisdom, and several positive choices for feeling better. That said, here's Kit:
Apart from feeling a little tense/dramatic during ovulation weekend and a little teary the day before my period began, this month has been so easy. My symptoms have been getting better over the last two years. When I look back to how badly PMDD used to affect me (3 out of 4 weeks), chronically suicidal most months, I just can't believe how it is now...
Here is how I choose to live now compared to before.
BEFORE
Chose boyfriends who didn't understand, sympathise, and had their own crazy issues going on — boyfriends I chose, so I'd feel less F'd up and—ironically—more equal.
Had friends that took from me and drained me because PMDD makes it hard to create continuity of self and therefore friendships can be tricky. So when they took, drained, and crossed boundaries ... I rolled with it—thinking I should be grateful for their friendship.
Thought of myself as having this big secret from the world that I couldn't control and was ashamed of. I spent a fair amount of time thinking about what others would think, especially when I was ill.
Shut myself away for weeks on end to protect the life I had just spent weeks building again.
Tried hormonal medications, anti-depressants, and supplements, all of which gave me side effects and changed the flavour of the PMDD to the point of not being worth it.
Worked 9-5 in a high-powered job, with a boss with questionable ethics, which made me ill via the ethical distress and stress of my workload, while spending 4 weeks a month trying to be the same person every day.
Generally believed I couldn't make a change from any of these because it would be impossible. How could I maintain my relationships, jobs, family, etc. if I tried to change all the above?
NOW
I chose a partner with understanding, tolerance and, most importantly the willingness to co-manage my PMDD with me—what a difference that one makes!
I chose a partner who is as self-aware as I am when it comes to his own journey.
My attitude is : I am a good catch; if I get ill, I am ill, if my partner started to be unsupportive I would wait until I was in my good time, and then talk from a point of grounded logic, explaining that I need someone who can give me support and understanding and that's what I deserve and if that's not him, he can leave now.
I now offer Zero Tolerance to anyone who's going to risk making me ill by their own silliness.
I now only have friends who respect my boundaries; I phased out those that didn't. It wasn't easy but, wow, has it made a difference in my life and in my PMDD.
I no longer have a 'secret' but I don't choose to tell others unless we're close ... I tell them what PMDD is but don't go into details. I don't care what others think. I know what I have, I know it is real. I do not need to communicate it, or hear their acceptance to accept myself. I have worked hard on accepting myself as I am, PMDD and ADHD warts and all, using the Strong Notes app.
I am still careful about planning social occasions around my bad times. I don't feel badly about saying 'No' — it's what I have to do to be kind to myself. Unnecessary stress that you choose to opt out of, no matter what others may think, can reduce your PMDD symptoms.
I am on Methylphenidate for my ADHD, and so far taking a really low amount, but it works wonders with my ADHD and could be having an effect on my PMDD, too. I would love for others to try it and see how it quiets the inner thoughts and mind tumble dryers we all get stuck in during PMDD mode.
Using an app called Strong Notes, I send myself accepting/loving messages from my 'well self' to read on my bad days, feeding my strength back to myself on days I can't access it from within.
I have separated my 'well self' from my 'ill self' in my mind so I don't brand the 'true well me' with an ill tarnish. It helps to be sympathetic to my 'ill self' when well, and remember my 'well self' when ill.
This is so important : I now identify when ill that how I'm feeling is real and not just my imagination.
I quit my ego stroking 9-5, 4 weeks a month job to pursue another working model that allows me to be ill when ill and kick ass when well.
I sought help from a mental health charity that supports people trying to make life work for them while struggling with a mental health problem. Successfully got a government business loan to start a business. I was honest about the PMDD and it was never even brought up as an issue.
I now believe that I am worth drastically changing my life for. I don't put myself in situations where I am stressed, and in turn my PMDD is at rest rather than flared up. I still know it's there but it's controllable.
I've read and live by Eckhart Tolle's book The Power of Now.
I eat foods with high nutrients but also still eat crap (sugar, etc.) when I want to, and for me it makes no difference. Food diets aren't ever as impactful as emotional diets in my opinion.
Signed up for all business/mental health support organisations to have mentors to keep me on track and to keep reminding myself that I am worth the hassle.
This is all just one story but I thought I would share it with you in case any of you are feeling ready to go on an emotional diet, too, or should I call it a MIND DETOX. I stayed in bad situations, feeling like a victim, for too long. I missed out on my teens and twenties for sure, but I am no longer going to be a victim to society's views, or the acceptance of others.
I have PMDD. It means I must live accordingly. I choose to make my life better by taking the actions needed to protect and progress myself.
Love to you all. I know we know each other's darkness all too well. I hope some of this helps.
K xxx
Friday, July 4, 2014
Chemical Sensitivities and PMDD
Over the years I've become increasingly more
sensitive to chemicals, fragrances, and any kind of scented products, be they
cat litter, candles, or cosmetics. If a
product has a petroleum base and a name that is clearly made up--such as Ocean
Breeze or Home Made Apple Pie--I need to stay as far away from it as possible. I first discovered this over twenty years ago
when a woman walked into the office where I worked and offered to sell me knock-off
versions of expensive perfumes and proceeded to spritz them all over the
place. She left without a sale as I instantly
developed a massive headache that lasted the rest of the afternoon.
My list of substances to avoid grew from there. Wood smoke, treated lumber, paraffin candles,
any kind of scented candles or room deodorizers, home cleaning products, paints
and stains, body lotions, soaps, shampoos, deodorants, and eventually, even the
real brands of premium perfume. I now can't go to the mall, pet store,
electronics store, furniture store, home improvement store or beauty shop
without taking a Benadryl. I need to
stay out of the cleaning products, pet supplies, paint, tire, shoe, furniture, and
home accents aisles in discount and department stores.
As for seasonal items like the Christmas aisle with
its scented pine cones and stuff? Forget
it. Neither can I visit used book stores
anymore, without succumbing to the smell of mold and must.
Recently, we uncovered water damage to a house we
bought three months ago and have yet to move into. My husband wants to strip the wallpaper, re-paint
and re-carpet the house, then air it out before I move in. The last house I moved into eight years ago
was new. I moved in early February and by
mid-April was so sick I collapsed. It
took another two months to recover, once I discovered problem: off gasses from the building materials such
as my carpet, vinyl, and laminate flooring (didn't help that this was winter
and my floors are heated), paint, kitchen counters and cabinetry. I thought I was just getting older. I did a lot of the move myself, moving one
mile down the road from my previous house, one carload at a time. Eventually I was sleeping all the time, but
unable to get any rest. My mind became
so foggy I couldn't get much of anything right.
I recall my boss asking, "Liana, what is wrong with you?"
A recovering perfectionist, I rarely made mistakes,
and suddenly I was making them all the time.
I was sitting at my desk, staring dumbly at no doubt my latest mistake
on the computer screen, and I remember telling her, speaking very slowly
because it was hard to form the words in my mind, "I...don't...know...all
I want...to do...is sleep." I called
the builder to ask if there could be a reason I was so tired and fuzzy-minded
all the time, and he suggested it was because I had no curtains and was getting
too much light in the house. Turned out all
I needed to do was open the windows. My
super energy efficient house was trapping all these off-gasses inside with me,
and I was breathing them over and over and over again. Within a week the house was cleared out, and
I was on the road to recovery.
But yesterday I took a trip down memory lane. Due to the water damage in our new home, my
husband and I had to go door shopping.
We also had an appointment to speak with a kitchen designer for a
remodeling project. To price doors, we
stopped at another builders supply store on the way. The salesman was wearing such strong cologne
I had to stand at least 15 feet away from him while he spoke with my
husband. As we left, I told my husband I
suddenly had the urge to eat anything and everything in sight, which is
something that happens when I get hormonal prior to my period. The thing was, we had just eaten breakfast
before leaving for the builders supply store, so I knew I wasn't hungry.
It was a combination of the man's cologne and the
smell of new building materials making me feel like I was starving.
We got to the second builders supply store, where we
had the appointment. Halfway through, my
husband said, "Your face and neck are turning bright red." The store was filled with carpet and flooring
samples, tiles, and kitchen and bathroom cabinetry. My husband left to get me a diet soda, which
for some reason I have yet to discern, always cuts my reaction to various substances.
When he returned, I took a Benadryl, which also helped to ease my symptoms
somewhat. But by the time we had been in
the store an hour and a half, even with taking the Benadryl and drinking the
diet soda--it has to be diet for this to work for me--my fingers started
swelling and tingling. By the time we
left, my wrists were tingling. It
usually moves up my arm and into my shoulders if I don't take a Benadryl and/or
remove myself from the situation. But
once it starts tingling, I know it will get painful very soon, as my insides will
swell up and press on the meridian nerves in my arms. I had this constantly when I was pregnant, so
much so that nightly I would sit in my rocking chair with my big belly and cry
from the sheer pain of it.
(Pop quiz. What happens when you are pregnant? You are an estrogen factory.)
So we wrapped up that appointment and headed for the
paint store, to get sample cards of the color we had chosen for the kitchen. I was not in the store three minutes before I
noticed I was firmly massaging my arms, something I do when my body gets
stressed from chemical exposure and starts to hurt. I didn't smell a thing, but then I don't need
to smell anything before my body reacts.
I discovered this one night when leading a faith sharing group at a
friend's house. She knew I couldn't be
around burning candles, but the moment I walked into her house, the words
"Something's wrong" blurted out of my mouth. No one heard me, and I took my regular seat
on the floor in front of the couch, as due to back problems I cannot sit on
soft furniture. I saw no candles in the room, but as the meeting progressed, my
head started to spin and pound and first my hands, then arms, then whole body
began to ache until the pain felt like it was deep in my bones and all I wanted
to do was curl up in a fetal position and cry.
If I hadn't been leading the meeting, I would have
left. Finally, I asked my hostess,
"Are you sure you didn't burn any candles in here before we came tonight?"
and she swore she hadn't. I said,
"Well something's wrong with me and I can't figure it out." Did you do any special cleaning for the
meeting? "No," she said, "all
I did was spray the couch with Febreeze."
The same couch I had been sitting on the floor leaning
up against all night.
My intuition knew something was wrong the moment I
entered the room. My mouth even blurted
it out. I didn't smell a thing, but my
body reacted instantly and painfully. To
this day I cannot be anywhere near Febreeze.
I wince just watching the commercials, people spraying it all over their
homes, laundry, and cars.
But back to our shopping trip. After the kitchen design appointment, my
husband stopped at two more building materials stores to check prices. I did not go inside. I was feeling a bit battered by then. After he came out of the first store, instead
of turning the car around and leaving, he made a circle by driving thorough the
warehouse, where contractors pick up loads of lumber. I groaned inside as the fan system in our air
conditioned car pulled in the scent of all that treated lumber. After we visited the second store, and then
the paint store, I announced, "We're going to get something to eat. Right now." We went to a sub shop, and I wolfed that baby
down so fast you would think I hadn't eaten in three days. Thank God it wasn't our first date or my
husband would have wondered about this woman who eats like a Doberman.
As soon as I finished my sub, my husband
says..."There she is. My wife is
back again." During the appointment
and shopping stops, I had become listless and withdrawn, my energy sapped. I could barely focus on the choices they
wanted me to make. I just wanted to get
out of there. I had chosen that store
because the woman and I had worked together before twice. We hadn't seen each other in nine years though,
and since then, I'd entered perimenopause.
She was tall and thin and stylishly dressed, while I was feeling fat and
puffy, dim-witted and inadequate. Afterward,
I determined (in my building-materials-chemical buzzed mind) that I was a
failure in life and wouldn't return to that store ever again because the
differences between us threw into stark relief her success and my failures.
Hello? I'm
now descending into a full-blown case of PMDD.
My insecurities are rising, and my mind is starting to go
irrational. By now every word my husband
speaks is starting to irritate me, so I withdraw even further into myself and
look out the window and keep my mouth shut, because I know if I open it, I will
explode with anger and resentment and he will get this shell shocked look on
his face.
We get home, and all I want to do is go to my
computer, where behind the veil of the internet, I can answer questions about
PMDD and help people to understand the disorder and feel like I am making a
difference in someone's life. I need
this feeling in this moment to feel any sense of self-worth.
This is how badly these building materials chemicals
have distorted my thinking processes.
Instead, I ask my husband if he wants to go for a
walk. Maybe the fresh air will clear my
head and make me feel better, because by now I ache all over and just want to
go to bed and curl up under the covers and cry.
Instead, we pass a few lawns freshly treated with
pesticide, and I come home feeling worse than ever.
The evening is a loss. The only option for me is to take another
Benadryl and go to bed.
Where it turns out I cannot sleep, my mind is so
agitated and upset. I can't stop
thinking about how insecure and inadequate I felt during my kitchen design
appointment. How overwhelmed I was by
the whole process. That is not me. I have
designed and built two houses and remodeled two others. I can do this stuff in my sleep. But inundated by the scent of building
materials, I lost my self-confidence and sense of self-worth, and in essence
brought on an episode of PMDD.
If I hadn't turned red and my husband hadn't noticed
it, I would never have known what happened.
If this had happened years ago (and maybe it did,
I've simply forgotten), I would never have known what happened. Instead, I would have spent a few hours
looking at building materials, chosen the cabinets, tile, flooring and paint
for what promises to be a beautiful kitchen, and come home feeling overwhelmed,
worthless, insecure, sad, angry, frustrated, combative, weepy, and ravenous,
and never understood why. That, in turn
would have made me wonder if I was crazy.
Here I am, getting everything I want, and yet all I want to do is snap
my husband's head off. I want to lash
out at him so badly I hurt from containing all my rage inside.
Or so I think.
In reality, my body is being chemically disrupted by what are called
xenoestrogens, and they are playing havoc with my hormones, and that is f*****g
with my brain.
So the next time you're out shopping and come home
feeling any of the above, or visit a friend's house who uses petroleum-based
cleaning products, candles and/or air fresheners and come home feeling weird
and moody--know that it is not you. It
is the chemicals in the air around you messing with your mood and mind. They may also be making you feel physically miserable,
which brings on that endless loop of negative thoughts we're all so familiar
with, which in turn makes us feel sad and/or angry.
Look around you.
Look in your home. Do you use
these sorts of petroleum-based products?
Are you unknowingly making yourself sick? Some women report that they feel like they
are in the PMDD zone all of the time.
Sometimes this is due to perimenopause, but it could also be due to what
you touch and breathe in all day. Do
you work in an auto parts store? A
furniture store where most of the items are made of particleboard? At the
mall? A lumber yard? A kitchen and bath store? An electronics store? Do you clean houses for a living? Are you a flight attendant? Did you just move your office into a new
building or remodel your home? Are you a
cashier and handle thermal paper receipts all day?
There are any number of options for how and where
you can be exposed to these xenoestrogens that wreak havoc on your
hormones. Awareness is the key.
But most of all, when you start acting all funky and
not like yourself at all...look around you for a possible reason. Did you just buy tires and sit in the waiting
room while they were put on? THINK about
this. Think about where you go and what you do.
I bet that suddenly a few things will start to make
a lot more sense.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
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.
Labels:
abuse,
anger,
anxiety,
courage,
demons,
depression,
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guest post,
guilt,
hope,
Living With PMDD,
low self esteem,
menstruation,
pain,
PMDD,
PMDD is a bully,
PMDD stories,
rage,
relationships,
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