The Voices of PMDD: Tough on Relationships

Anyone with experience can tell you, PMDD is tough on relationships. By the time I was 25, it was certainly getting tough on my parents and sisters, and then my first husband. This was before I knew anything about PMDD. I thought it was just PMS, but no one else with “just PMS” seemed to be going through what I was. When I would try and explain to confidants, I would be warned off blaming everything on hormones. Yet once a month, like clockwork, I would dread interacting; I could feel my personality morphing. I would cancel plans, back out of things, even leave vacations to go home! I would have massive flip-outs. Family thought I was just a moody, selfish and spoiled brat. In truth, I was being ruled by my hormones. I hated it as much as they did. It made it so hard to make plans or get excited about anything. And since it was cyclical, it seemed like “just who I was”.

I’m married for the second time now, and it seems I decide to divorce my husband pretty much every month. For nearly a year, I’ve been pulling my luggage out of storage and packing my bags only to put it all away again a week or so later when my cycle shifts again.

Maybe I had no business getting married in the first place, but we had to. We lived in separate countries, and it was the only way to be together. As much as I may have wanted to live abroad, I quickly realized I didn’t have it in me to deal with the culture shock, language shock, new roommate shock, etc. and all of the loss…of home, work, friends, family, belongings, car, etc. I had no idea the impact of moving overseas and all it entailed would have on PMDD!

Over the first two years of our relationship, the stress I endured was enough to give me PTSD and a whole new level of experience with PMDD, which by the way, I had only learned about half-way through our marriage, as I desperately looked for answers about why I was suddenly such a full-on raging lunatic every month. When I read about it, it was like a string of lights lit up in my DNA. When I started tracking my symptoms, I had all the evidence I needed. I hadn’t been imagining this plague! It was only in hindsight I was able to piece together aspects of my history that pointed toward PMDD and that those pieces of a near life-long puzzle started snapping into place.

In this marriage, our problems have centered around my PMDD. It’s an easy target. Once I knew what it was, we’d talk about it on the good days; I’d try to explain it and tell him what I needed from him. He’d listen and nod and say he understood. But for some reason, month after month, he just couldn’t deliver. Was it me? I thought so. I really, honestly blamed myself. Maybe I was asking for too much space. Maybe I was demanding too much help. Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough!

Our marriage passed through a very difficult season of intense arguments, usually when I was in the throes of PMDD. These arguments only served to further impair my already affected mental state and merely re-traumatize me in all the ways I’d lived with growing up. It was becoming unbearably painful. Again, I blamed myself. If only I didn’t have this disorder. If only I wasn’t so needy, so messed up, so controlling, so…me. Of course, I blamed him too. If only he’d clean up, do what he promised, give me space, be…someone else!

Then one day, after an excruciating and emotionally abusive exchange between us, a genuine turning point arrived. I realized this endless struggle simply wasn’t what I wanted for my life. If I had a disorder that made relationships challenging, then I had to decide whether my marriage was a help or hindrance to my healing. I realized it had become a hindrance. Yes, I had my issues, AND my husband had his own issues, and all of it was creating a mess I couldn’t bear. We weren’t being “good for each other”. It was plain and simple reality, regardless of fault. That’s when I knew it was really over. I told him I wanted out, for real this time.

I started to focus on my own healing (or refocus, truth be told). I got into positive psychology, started taking B-12, Magnesium, and Ashwaganda for my blown-out adrenals, and hired a counselor, too. I learned to focus my mind out of hormone-created mental “shit storms”, and on the days I couldn’t, I treated myself gently. I began to process all the changes and losses of the past couple of years. I thought about what I still valued in life and took notes. I also realized that I had to at least try and communicate with my husband what I was going through, if just for my own experience. It didn’t matter if he got it or not; I just had to learn to communicate it. I began to want to understand what it was like for him too. I wanted to know all the ways I had been unskillful in our marriage so that if I ever got into another one, it would be better. It was really painful work, digging in the underbelly of so much suffering, much of it self-created. It was also difficult letting go of all the things I simply couldn’t control…like certain symptoms of PMDD or my husband’s perception, understanding, or lack thereof.

Shortly after I took on this mending, a miracle happened. We started really talking again and meeting each other in a different playing field. We both got more skillful. We accepted what we’d been resisting and/or taking personally. We found our love for each other again. We were finding our way to being “good for each other” again.

We are definitely a work-in-progress. Believe me, we still piss each other off, but now, we know when to back off and give each other space, and we know and understand a little better the ways we are either too different or too much alike to help one another. There’s more respect between us.

 So, despite hiring a divorce lawyer, we’re still married and going on three years now. Will we make it to four? It’s possible now, though it had gotten to a point where it wasn’t. There are still times of the month when my cycle shifts gears that I see through the eyes of judgment instead of love, when I just want to get the hell out of here, and when fear tries to take a hold and make me see only problems. Yeah, yeah.

Whatever, dragon!

When I try too hard to understand it all, I often don’t know what to believe. Do I believe the judgments that say he’s a total jerk, agonize over the crumbs and spills in the kitchen, and ruminate on stories about how everything is so terribly wrong? Or do I put my faith in the days when I’m overjoyed to see him, love his hugs and kisses, laugh with him, and feel grateful for his presence in my life and all the ways he blesses it? I know now that for the most part, both heaven and hell are inside me, and no matter where I go, I’ll take them with me. It all boils down to where I place my focus! 

Liana's note:  The above guest post was written by the blogger Cheekyminx. With her permission, several of her posts about PMDD are featured on this blog. In the meantime, to find out more about her work as a PMDD Advocate, please visit her Facebook page, PMDD Life Support.

PMDD Awareness Month Ends, But the Struggle Continues

Today wraps up the end of PMDD Awareness Month.  I've spent the month sharing on Facebook and Twitter several posts from my Voices of PMDD series, where women with PMDD and their partners have shared their stories.  The quotes that follow come from Hormone Hell, the personal journey blog of a fellow PMDD Advocate, Jarrah, who asked her readers to describe what PMDD feels like to them.  I've chosen several responses that I fear we can all relate to in some way.  Please read on, and, if nothing else, know that you are far from alone in your struggles with the demon that is PMDD.  Perhaps one or more of these descriptions will help you to put into words for a loved one what it's like for you, each and every month, and raise awareness in your own way.

On my bad days it feels like my nerves are on the outside, that everything hurts, and there’s a heavy blanket on me that I can’t get out from.

It feels like nails in my brain that prevent me from thinking correctly. The nails stay in my skull for about 2 weeks and then they finally go away and I can think again.

Your brain feels like mush, your memory is poor. You're actually scared that one day you’re going to wake up and forget who you are. Your digestive system is going crazy, you’re constipated one minute, rushing to the toilet the next. Your bladder needs to empty itself 6 times in a single hour. You're hot, no you’re cold, umm, you’re hot again. You love your husband one minute and consider filing for divorce the next. If one more person chews, breathes or coughs, there will be bloodshed.

I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m laughing…now I’m crying. My joints ache. I am only 29 but I feel 99. My hair is thinning; it’s so dry it feels like straw. I have permanent dark circles under my eyes. My skin is so dry it’s flaking.

You’re so tired but no matter how much sleep you get, you still wake feeling tired. You’re hungry one minute, you’re nauseous the next. You can’t breathe; your heart races and you can’t stop sweating. You don’t want to be touched, you feel suffocated if someone sits close to you.

Overthinking is an everyday occurrence and often your head is swimming with thoughts that leave you feeling terribly anxious. You no longer look forward to anything, as each day is just a matter of survival. You have no passion and no longer think about the future. You hate this empty person you have become.

You start daydreaming about dying. Deep down, you know there’s a part of you that definitely does not want to die. You know that, logically, things are fine and you will be okay. But you can’t FEEL that. All you feel is despair, hopelessness, and a suddenly strong urge to leave this world.

Worthless. Empty. Angry. Bloated. Exhausted. Sometimes I just wish I could disappear…just lay down in the grass and get absorbed in to the earth somehow. Oh yeah, and Crazy. I know what I feel isn’t normal, but I can’t change it…at least until my period comes and then I’m right as rain.

Anticipation for hell week becomes a hell week in itself. I can’t control the choking wave of anxiety or the rage of this demon but I have changed my outlook. It will not own me.  I will not let it drown me.  I will swim and swim until I come up for air. Until the next storm. There have been a few hell weeks where no matter how hard I swam I could not escape the urge to let it pull me under and take me in its entirety. Those days and those times I don’t know how anyone makes it out alive.  

Rage, anxiety, mind going crazy, all of those things attacking you all at once. You wish it was over and the sad thing is you have no control over it. You see yourself doing all these dumb things and you try and stop it but it’s so hard to control. But you keep fighting because you love your family and you love yourself too much to give up!

Like a tightness of the skull above the eyes, like my skin and hearing is super sensitive, so I have a headache and am easily overwhelmed. This coupled with lowered patience and attention span means I’m really short-tempered. Sometimes that results in a snappy comment and then unreasonable crying (e.g. about burnt pine nuts), but other times it’s disproportionate rage. Sometimes it’s just a brain fog, where I sit and stare at the work computer, trying to figure what I’m supposed to be doing, and how someone is paying me to sit and feel like my powers of logic and reason have been pulled out through my eye sockets.

It’s like a switch that is flicked inside me as soon as ovulation begins. From that point on I become the opposite of what I consider to be my “normal” self. I’m suddenly extremely anxious, paranoid, worried, irritable and I can snap at the smallest things. The rages are life-destroying. They hurt everyone I care for, and scare off anyone else. My period finally begins and within a day or two, my mood lifts. The anxiety goes away, the paranoia is no longer there. I can think rationally and logically. I have energy to do anything I want, and sadly most of that time is spent picking up the pieces of the storm that lives inside of me, and has--for now--disappeared.  

At the start depression starts to set in, aching body, foggy head, headaches, high anxiety, pains in the stomach, sweating, panic attacks when I go in public, hysterical crying, at my worst, thoughts of suicide. Then my period arrives...all those feelings and thoughts are gone just like that…I’m back, me again, I’m back to normal. I can go to work with ease (if I still have a job). I can go out anywhere with no panic attacks, anxiety (what anxiety?) I am fun, I enjoy being around people and they enjoy being around me. I wish I could be this person all the time, I hate knowing it is short lived and the devil lady will be back again soon.

Sensitivity to light and sound…my son talks and talks and I just want to curl in a ball to escape. That’s horrible to say…but I just can’t handle it.

I always wonder if this mental illness will kill me one day—I’m sure it will. The brightest days are good. I enjoy them. The darkest days however, seem like I won’t ever escape them. Each time it feels like maybe this could be it, the one that I don’t come back from. But somehow I make it through. PMDD is cruel. It’s like every month, sanity is dangled in front of me and I have to hold onto it. There’s a glimmer of hope that this month I’ll be cured, then suddenly it’s ripped away.

I was sitting in my seat watching a movie, my whole body was tense, I was clenching my teeth, my heart was racing, and I was swallowing back the nausea I felt…I tried to push all those feelings out of my head so I could try to enjoy the movie. As I sat there I couldn’t help but think…So this is what my life has come to? It’s a movie for goodness' sake and my body is acting like I need to be on alert just in case at any second someone might try and kill me.

I ended up going for a walk to try to clear my head. My legs would only carry me half way around the block, my whole body was so fatigued and I was so nauseous the symptoms reminded me of how I felt when I was in the first trimester of pregnancy.

PMDD….a war you’re constantly fighting that no one else can see.

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 Quote of the Week

~I can feel the PMDD approaching, hovering, waiting. It feels like another presence, a shadow, that lives inside me and it's slowly making its way to my mind where it can take over my thoughts and emotions. It's behind me where I can sense it but not see it. I'm aware of it there and can push it back a little, but I can't stop it and it slowly creeps forward closer and further than it was before. I try to prepare for the inevitable, knowing that I can never really prepare myself for what's to come.~ JP

PMDD Quote of the Week

~Just yesterday I could not stop eating.  It was like I was keeping myself from being dragged under.~

PMDD Quote of the Week

~I hate that none of my friends and family really know the demons I battle every month and that all my hard work during my good days barely seems to count because of my bad ones.~

PMDD Quote of the Week - A Doctor's View

April is PMDD Awareness month.  I can't begin to imagine how much further we would be along the path to health and healing if we only had more doctors like this.  This woman "gets" it.

What is PMDD?

"A reproductive disorder whereby women experience transient physical and emotional changes around the time of their period, PMDD is associated with a level of impairment that is similar to major depressive disorder and poorer quality of life compared with community norms, therefore it should be considered a serious health condition. PMDD can have adverse consequences on a woman's social functioning, relationships, work productivity and healthcare use..."

and

"Treatment generally continues for duration of a woman's reproductive life.  If one considers that a female typically menstruates 300 - 500 times during her lifetime, timely identification and initiation of appropriate treatment may prevent impairment.  This, together with support and TLC from loved ones or spouses, can go a long way in improving the quality of life of PMDD sufferers."

~Dr. Eileen Thomas, a specialist psychiatrist at Akeso Clinic, Milnerton (Cape Town, South Africa)

To read the full article, go here.

As Dr. Thomas so rightfully points out, a female can experience up to 500 menstrual cycles during her lifetime. I also mention this in my books, PMDD and Relationships, and PMDD:  A Handbook for Partners.  Below are a couple of sample excerpts:

Let’s do the math. The average age of female puberty is 12; the average age of menopause is 51. Round that off to 40 years of menstruation. Multiply that by 12; that gives you 480 months of periods if you never have children, less if you do. Let’s go with 450 periods for now. That gives you 900 weeks of pre-menstrual issues. Divide that by 52 weeks per year, and you get 17+ years that a woman can spend in the living hell that is PMDD.

Seventeen years, people!

and 

Seventeen years is a long time to feel and/or be out of control. Seventeen years is also a long time to be on medication, especially medication that studies now show doesn’t work more than half the time.

Listen, nobody knows for sure what causes PMDD. All scientists know is it is a biological event that manifests as emotional symptoms. What does that mean? It means PMDD is caused by something that happens in your body and shows/expresses itself in your moods. The closest science has come to defining what happens is that whatever happens, happens in concert with your menstrual cycle, and involves your hormones. The hormones they have looked at the most are estrogen, progesterone, and now a metabolite of progesterone, called allopregnanolone.

Some schools of thought are convinced it has something to do with the levels of these hormones in your body, and whether they are in the right balance or not. But you can’t detect PMDD with a blood test, and every estrogen/progesterone blood test I have taken has shown my levels to be perfectly normal, even when I was in the middle of a PMDD episode.

I think the best science has come up with so far is that yes, PMDD does have to do with your hormonal fluctuations, but it’s more that something goes awry in your brain when processing these normal and natural hormonal fluctuations in your body.

That’s right. Something goes wrong in your brain.

No news to us, right? We’ve known all along something wasn’t right with our brains, with our thinking processes, during an episode of PMDD. Why else would we say and do the things we say and do during an episode, but not during the rest of the month?

As part of PMDD Awareness month, I invite you to share in the comments section below any adverse consequences YOU have experienced in your social functioning, relationships, work productivity and/or healthcare use due to your PMDD.  Share to help make aware!

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.

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. 

The Other Side of PMDD, continued

Since I wrote that last post, and since I was PMDD-ing this week, I really paid attention to what was going on inside my head.   Thursday I was overwhelmed and angry.  Normally I love to feed people, take care of them, give them a hot meal and some home comforts.  But my partner, my son, and I had agreed it would be "fend for yourself" night on Thursday, due to different commitments.  I was therefore "supposed" to worry only about myself. 

But then they both showed up at dinnertime, hungry and neither one of them cooks.  So instead of just worrying about myself, I was suddenly in charge of a meal, and in no mood to graciously pull one together.  Instead I became like a drill sergeant...you, go set the table, you...chop those vegetables....you're in charge of the microwave....you, get us something to drink. 

Not my usual self at all, but I rose to the occasion and kept a lid on my resentments.

Even so, later on in the evening, after we'd come and gone to the Christmas show we were all trying to get to on time, I apologized to my partner for being so...well...bossy. 

He didn't mind.  He said, "You hardly ever get like that.  It's nice to see you're human."

Which got me to really thinking about PMDD and what's going on inside our heads when it happens.  Are we really screwing up, or is it our brain telling us we're screwing up when we are not, and that's what kicks off all the fights and relationship issues? 

Because you know when you're screwing up.  Everyone does.  We don't need people to tell us when we mess up.  Because we know it, inside, when we make a genuine mistake.  Pointing it out to us only makes things worse.  (And I am talking about humans here, not just PMDD women.)  We all get hurt and defensive and either go into withdrawal or denial--or come out fighting.

So here's my thought:  What if we're not really screwing up--we just think we are, and so we act accordingly...by coming out fighting?  The best defense is a good offense...that sort of thinking.

It's something to consider.  Because while I thought I was being overly bossy...he just thought I was trying to get everyone fed and out the door in time.

Fast forward to Saturday afternoon.  I am in a rage.  I know I am in a rage.  Thank goodness I am alone.  I think that is part of why I am in a rage.  I don't want to be alone.  I'm tired of working, and I want to take a break, do something fun.

But at the same time I know that if someone shows up...my partner or my son...that's not going to make me happy, either.  I know this, because in that moment, nothing can make me happy. 

So it was best that they each had something else to do for most of the day.

But meanwhile I stewed.  And anything and everything that didn't normally bother me, suddenly bothered me, big time.

By the time my partner arrived to go to church, I was angry and I. Just. Didn't. Care.

But I had spent the day "watching" myself, or practicing awareness, so I knew I was angry, and I knew there was no reason (aside from my hormones) for me to be angry, and I knew I was being irrational, and I knew I didn't want a fight.

So I asked him...Do you ever feel like you Just. Don't. Care?  You don't care whose feelings you hurt, or who you piss off, or what people think?  You've just had it, and you're just going to say and do what you want to say and do?

He said yes, he had felt like that.

I said, "Well, that's the way I feel right now."  Like I am going to say and do what I want to, and nobody better get in my way.

"I see," he said.

"I'm just warning you," I said.  "So that if I do or say something totally irrational, you don't sit there wondering 'What just happened?'"  I'm in that kind of mood."

Oh.  Okay.

And that was the extent of it.  There was no incident.  We had no argument.  We went to church, and then we rented a movie.  We had a perfectly pleasant evening. 

But I felt better letting him know what was going on inside of me, so that should I snap, he wasn't taken by surprise.

He appreciated knowing I was on the edge.  We settled into a quiet evening together.

"So you can control it?" he asked at one point.

Well...yes, and no.

I can control it up to a point.  But when the dam bursts, it bursts.  And at that point, I can't control it. 

My goal is to keep that dam from bursting.  To keep from snapping out on those closest to me. 

Because it is my goal, I am getting more and more successful at accomplishing it.

But I can tell you of a thousand times where I failed.

Try to imagine walking around with a totally irrational "Don't fuck with me" attitude going on inside your head.  Try to imagine this happening several days a month, like clockwork.  It switches on, it shuts off.  You have no control over when it does either.  All you can do is hang on and hope you (and your relationships) survive the ride.

For instance...take a totally normal exchange at the deli counter when you're in one of these moods. 

The clerk asks what I would like.  The clerk asks "sliced or shaved?".  This question totally pisses me off inside...I'm there every frigging week (not true) ordering the same damn thing (close, but also not true) so why can't they effing remember what I like?  (unreasonable expectation).    

Are you seeing how a PMDD mind works?

Meanwhile, I am smiling and politely answering, "sliced" like I do every time, and feeling like I want to punch the next person who crosses my path.

It's really not about you.  (Although it can be, so don't think you're completely off the hook).  It's about doing battle with thoughts that come out of nowhere and are sometimes voiced before you can stop them.  It's about hearing or seeing or doing something and placing the most negative context on it that you can possibly imagine.  It's about not knowing what you want or how to make it better. 

As I told my partner..."Don't even try to make me feel better right now because you literally can't.  You will not be able to win, no matter what you do."

But there are things we can do to keep it from getting worse.  Sit quietly together, watching a movie or maybe listening to music or napping or reading books.  Hug without talking.  Go for a walk.  Just be together in silence, or at least a peaceful atmosphere. 

For me, silence is best, so that I can concentrate on doing battle with the misperceptions going on inside my head.  So that I don't say something I will regret.

In short, when I am PMDD-ing, don't confuse me by asking questions, or by wanting something from me.  This is a time you either need to give to me (your love and understanding) or get the hell out of my way.

There's really no in-between.