It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

Hello, everyone.  I've promised my friends, family, and readers I would start blogging regularly again in September.  It's September.  Yesterday was also Wednesday, my best day, schedule-wise, for blogging.  Problem was, I didn't feel like writing.  About anything.

I got my first inklings something was up on Sunday morning, when I woke up groggy, head hurting, and ravenous.  Determined to beat the PMDD blues, I ate a bowl of Cheerios (quick acting carbs) and went back to sleep for an hour and a half.  The next time I woke up, I felt better, more on an even keel thanks to the carbs and an extra sleep cycle, and so I vowed to not let my PMDD ruin *my* day.

And it didn't.  Not that day or the next.  Almost nothing could get me down, although at the oddest times, I found myself looking off into the distance and just wanting to cry.

Tuesday I embarked on a project that would challenge anyone's ability to concentrate.  For hours I sifted through airline websites and travel reservation matrixes, trying to find the best dates, flight times, and price for two seats to Europe.  The print function on my computer wouldn't cooperate, so I had to hold all the information in my head from screen to screen to screen.  My desk was littered with sticky notes on which I'd scribbled the names of potential destinations, airlines, and prices.

I also learned something about redeeming rewards points with a certain airline that makes a big fuss about their rewards miles program, but shall go unnamed at this point.  If you have one person paying with mileage rewards points, and another paying full fare...at least when you're headed to Europe...it's almost impossible to get on the same flights.  They offer one set of flight choices for the rewards points flyer, and another set of choices for the paying customer.  I could get us on the same flight leaving, but getting us on the same flight coming home was like finding a needle in a haystack. 
I thought I had done it, but four hours later, when all was said and done, I had chosen outgoing flights that were ten minutes apart.  One said 10:30 a.m., the other said 10:40 a.m.  (This was while my print function was still working.)

So I started all over, this time coming at it from a different angle.  My partner's rewards points with his credit card company.  Success!!  Or so I thought.  Once I hit Select Flight, the price, advertised as 20% less than the going rate, rose exponentially.  Like to the tune of double the going rate.

It was cheaper to go with Orbitz and pay full fare for both tickets, rewards points be damned.  Some reward.  They like you to earn those points, but apparently aren't all that keen on helping you to redeem them.

So...flights chosen, I'm now filling out the information.  Here's something new.  I need to input the names of who will be traveling exactly as they appear on the identification we will be using -- in this case our passports.  I call my partner.  He doesn't know what his passport says.  He says he will check and call me back in less than an hour.

He gets busy and forgets.

My day takes a nosedive.  By the time he arrives to spend the evening together, I'm not speaking to him.

It's that simple.

I busted my brain on the computer for several hours, trying to do what *he* suggested.  In the end I found out it was almost impossible.  Sure, I could have managed one rewards ticket and one paid fare if I wanted to change planes twice and spend 19 or more hours getting home on a flight that takes 8 and a half hours non-stop.

In the end I got both tickets for $300 more than we would have paid had we gone with one free ticket from my tightfisted airline miles company, but we're on that nonstop return flight...together.  When it's time to come home, we're coming straight home.  No missed connections or lost luggage for us, baby.

But I digress.

He forgets to call.  I am furious.  Just that fast.  And there is nothing he can do to make it right.  And I mean no-thing.  I am in the mood for a fight.  And I don't care who I fight with.  My son makes an equally available target.  He disappears into his room as I start sniping at both of them.  Sharp tones and snide comments left and right.  I know I am doing it, and I don't care.  I feel unloved, unappreciated, unheard, unhappy, unhealthy, unfit, un-everything.  You name it.  No one understands me.  No one cares.  No one appreciates the things I do around here.

"I see the weekend is over," my partner says quietly.

We had an amazing weekend.  Truly amazing.  Went to church, went for a sunset walk, went to a festival, met all sorts of interesting people, played miniature golf, went for a drive in the country, cooked a couple of fantastic dinners, slow danced...he even presented me with a 30 minute DVD of  a slide show of my recent trip to Alaska, set to soothing music.  It was my birthday and it was beautiful.

But all of that was gone in my PMDD mind.  All that mattered to me right then and there was he didn't call me back, he didn't appreciate my time, my work, or me.

His quiet words were my cue that I had crossed the line.

I apologized.  Sincerely.  Because I knew I was wrong.  He kissed me good night and we parted on good terms, with him saying he understood.  I went to bed and again, just wanted to cry.

Yesterday morning I didn't want to wake up.  All morning I couldn't concentrate, couldn't stay focused on any one task.  Couldn't even contemplate writing a blog post.  By afternoon, my brain literally hurt, like it was inflamed or something, and I found myself reaching for my PMDD foods....almonds, oranges, cottage cheese, and chocolate.

By evening I knew why.

My period had arrived.

PMDD and the Trip of a Lifetime

This time last week I was in Alaska with six girlfriends.  You’d think, since it was the trip of a lifetime, one I had been wanting to go on for over twenty years, one I had been  planning and saving for and working toward for over a year and a half, that I would be having the time of my life. 

I would have been, if my PMDD hadn’t decided to come along. 

The warning signs started over two weeks ago, with the second day on the cruise ship.  I awoke, went to breakfast, went to a nature talk on what we could expect to see in Alaska, and could not stay awake to save myself.  After the lecture, I bailed on my friends, went back to the cabin, and slept soundly until I met up with everyone again for lunch.

I spent the afternoon feeling groggy, but okay.  Then we met for dinner (yes, you eat a lot on cruise ships – it’s part of the experience).  Somewhere in the middle of the meal, I literally felt something in my brain snap into place, like two pieces of a puzzle.  Like a connection that had come unplugged had suddenly been plugged back in.  I felt awake, energized, clear-headed.  Now I could get on with my cruise and have fun.  I  said as much to my companions.  We danced the night away.

Clearly, since that incident happened over two weeks ago, I was ovulating.

A few days later, the sleepiness returned, despite getting the best sleep of my life on the gently rocking ship.  On the tenth day of the trip my irritability arrived.  I snapped at my companions, and realized instantly I was having an episode.  I managed to hold my tongue for the rest of the day, but my inner thoughts ran rampant on every negative thing I could think of regarding the trip.  By evening I was in tears. 

I decided the best thing for everyone involved would be for me to go to bed early.  I did, and slept 14 hours.

The next day nothing, and I mean nothing could make me smile. 

Trip of a lifetime and I wanted to go home. 

I warned the ladies – Tomorrow I will be weeping.  They nodded in understanding.

It didn’t get that bad, fortunately.  Instead I mostly dragged through the day, sighing heavily, and privately wished I were home. 

Three days later I got my wish.  Once I was here, all I wanted to do was sleep.  (Well, I was awake for nearly 24 hours getting home.)  I took a nap every afternoon, claiming exhaustion from the trip.  But I knew I was hormonal, too, and warned those closest to me. 

My irritability returned, but again, after the first snap, I kept it inside…or at least I think I did.  My son did his best to make himself scarce, which only irritated me more.  Didn’t he miss me while I was gone?  He didn’t miss my PMDD self, that was for sure.  Still, I felt hurt and rejected.  I reached for the chocolate.

Monday comes…my work week begins.  I can’t get started.  I can’t get organized.  I wander around the house all morning, putting little things away, sorting this, filing that, clearing clutter, preparing myself to work, but doing no real work. 

That afternoon I take a 3-hour nap.  I awake ravenous and craving chocolate.  I am in full bore PMS mode (yes, you CAN have both PMS and PMDD) when that night and the next I make salty dinners.  Shrimp stir fry with Tamari the first night.  Tuna the second.  (I wanted tuna casserole, which is very salty, but somewhere in the day lost the motivation to make it, so settled for tuna salad and chocolate cake instead.)

My period is coming, but it’s not here yet. 

This morning I have brain fog.  I tried to pay bills.  Forgot to date one check, and forgot to include the credit card payment check in its envelope.  Par for the course with PMDD.  Small mistakes, but with big repercussions had I mailed them that way.  Instead, I ripped open the envelopes, made things right, and taped them up again.  At least I was still thinking clearly enough to catch my mistakes. 

At least I’m still thinking clearly enough to write.  That, too, may change in the next few hours.  Can you imagine how terrifying this loss of control is to a woman who does not know she has PMDD?  She has no idea what is happening to her.  All she knows is in the next few days, or even hours, she will lose her ability to both think clearly and control her emotions. 

And there’s absolutely nothing she can do to stop it.  Once that ship sets sail, it doesn’t stop until it wrecks.

Homes.  Families.  Relationships.

I am blessed in that I am in safe home, family, and relationship situations.  Those who are closest to me, those who spend the most time with me, are all understanding and supportive. 

But what if that wasn’t my situation?  What if I was in an abusive relationship?  Or living with someone who simply thought I was lazy and self-centered?  What if I lived with someone who called me crazy when this happened?  What if I lived with someone who didn’t want to be around me when it happened?  Who threatened to leave me if I didn't shape up?

What if I lived with someone who screamed and yelled at me, ordered me to snap out of it, called me names, and/or demanded, “What’s wrong with you?”

Self esteem takes a swan dive during a PMDD episode.  We feel unlovable to start with during this time.  Anything you say or do to make it worse will be magnified at least tenfold in our minds.  We are fragile and we don’t know why.  We need love and we want to be left alone.  It doesn’t make any sense to you, and it doesn’t make any sense to us.  We didn’t ask for this to happen, and in most cases it will be a long time (due to misdiagnoses and the hit or miss nature of treatments) before it stops happening.

And once an episode begins, nothing, nothing brings you joy…not even the trip of a lifetime.

So be patient with yourself, and be patient with your partner.  Finding the key to your individual situation will take time.  Look for answers from reputable sources.  Be wary of sources that claim to cure your PMDD.  Be cautious about anyone who stands to gain financially from your disorder.  Just like there are cheesy tourist traps when you go on vacation, there are those who only seek to profit from your PMDD misery.  Navigating the waters of PMDD products while searching for a solution can be choppy at best, and downright treacherous at times.  Hold on to the wheel (aka your sanity) with both hands, and if you have someone to help you when things get rough, be grateful for them and let them know it, no matter what ugly thoughts are going through your mind. 

Just keep mentally repeating, that’s my PMDD talking, not me, that’s my PMDD talking, not me.

Keep your mouth shut, and when the episode is over, thank them for being there for you.

The more you do this, the easier it gets.  And when you fail, see my post, They Only See Our Failures.

Take care, God Bless, and be proud of yourself.  Not every woman has the strength to wrestle with her PMDD, month after month after month.   But you are here, and looking for answers to yours.  That’s something worth recognizing and applauding.