What Real Love Looks Like

Since February is the month for relationships, I've linked to a post by fellow author, blogger, and women's health and wellness advocate Tara Mandarano, written about relationships.  It's not PMDD specific, but the wisdom in it applies all the same...  

A real relationship is two flawed people refusing to give up on each other. It's encountering everyday obstacles and unexpected hurdles and finding a way through them together.

It's talking it out when you'd rather give each other the silent treatment. It's listening to the other side of the story when you believe yours is the only valid perspective.

It's holding hands and hugging it out after an argument. It's hanging on for dear life when you go through emotional hell and feel totally beside yourself.

It's finding time for each other at the end of the day, when you're feeling fraught and spent and just want to read a book or scroll through your phone.

It's putting away your phone.

It's not hiding things on your phone.

It's being together in the same room even when you feel galaxies apart. It's building a bridge between hurt feelings and new beginnings even though it's so, so hard.

To read more, please go here.

Tara is also the author of an essay in the newly released BIG: Stories about Life in Plus-Sized Bodies.  

My First Memory of Having PMDD

It’s hard to pinpoint my first true memory of having PMDD. I think I struggled against my PMDD for so long, denying that I had a problem, that it manifested long before I admitted there was something wrong with me. No one else I knew went through these struggles, or if they did, they didn’t talk about it. They managed, they coped…why couldn’t I? What was wrong with me that I was fine one day, and could barely get out of bed the next? I think I blamed it on everything and anything else but me, sources outside myself, school, work, friends, family, whoever I was in a relationship with at the time--because I was young and healthy and mental-type problems only happened to other people.

The first episode I can remember which I would now attribute to PMDD was a two-week period in my freshman year of college, toward the end of the semester and year, when I simply didn’t get out of bed except to go to class. I was doing well in my classes, not having any problems to speak of, and then suddenly this period of total sadness and hopelessness and lethargy hit, and I had no motivation to do anything or go anywhere. Then just as suddenly it lifted, and for the remaining weeks of the semester I raced around like a madwoman, trying to catch up and make sure my grades didn’t suffer.  I was eighteen years old.

Now, looking back, I can see countless repetitions of this scenario, where I’m sailing along, and life is fine, and then suddenly...it isn’t. When all indications are that I should be happy beyond measure--having achieved every goal I’d set for myself to that date--but I wasn’t. I used to think there was just something inside of me that liked to make life a little more challenging. Something that liked to let me fall behind, just so I could prove that I could catch up and still come out ahead. Now I realize it was the PMDD dragging me down. Now I think about how much I could have accomplished, had I known what was happening and learned to manage my PMDD, like I eventually did.

But I don’t dwell on those thoughts, because those opportunities have come and gone, and negative thoughts will bring anybody down, not just a woman with PMDD. There’s no sense in feeding the fire. What’s come and gone has done just that…come and gone. The only moment we can do anything about is the moment we’re in right now. And right now, I know that most, if all negative thoughts I have stem from my PMDD and I’m just not going to give them any more air time. I’m still as stubborn as I was as a teenager, still as determined not to let the sadness and negativity get me down, only this time I know what I’m dealing with. Now I’m able to separate the two, my usual self and my PMDD self, and when my PMDD hits, I’m able to label my self-defeating thoughts as PMDD thoughts and just set them on a mental shelf to be dealt with later.

The beauty of this tactic? When later comes, those thoughts are no longer relevant. Mostly because they weren’t true to start with. On PMDD days now I rest and take it easy. I find something positive and uplifting to read or watch or listen to, and focus on small, sometimes mindless tasks that I know need to be done and have been saving up for just such a day. Organizing receipts or CDs or books on a shelf. Folding the laundry. Nothing heavy, nothing demanding either physically, mentally, or emotionally. For instance, sorting through old photographs probably wouldn’t be a good job for a PMDD day. The emotions they dredge up might not be positive, might make you miss someone or someplace or stir up regrets. Or they might remind you of a happier time, and instead of making you smile, might make you feel like you’ll never be happy again. That’s the PMDD brain talking, not you. And whatever it is saying is certainly not coming from God.

I bring God into this because my faith was and is a big part of my experience with PMDD. Without faith in something bigger than myself, I never would have come to have faith in myself. I can’t tell you how many times I thought there has to be a way to make this madness stop. The first book I picked up was Prayer, Faith and Healing: Cure Your Body, Heal Your Mind, and Restore Your Soul. I’d tried everything else. Maybe it was time to give prayer a chance. And so I started. With baby steps. One by one, one day at a time, learning how to listen to something positive outside myself for a change, until I learned that God was inside of me, too, and I could go within for the answers I needed. They didn’t have to come from outside sources.

The stronger I became on the inside, the more those negative external voices dimmed to background noise. Such as well-meaning friends and family with unsolicited advice, and not-so-well-meaning friends and family with selfish needs and demands.  Not to mention well-crafted advertisements pointing out all the areas in which I was lacking in my life, or organizations with agendas on how I needed to live my life, and countless books, magazines, radio and television programs telling me I could have it all, while at the same time measuring me by artificial standards no one person could ever hope to attain.

It’s hard enough navigating life with all your faculties intact. But when you’re a woman with PMDD, operating on half power or less half the time or more, life gets really challenging. So don’t beat yourself up. The world is more than happy to do that for you. Accept that you’re not perfect and you’re never going to get there, then relax and enjoy your life. When you’re feeling good, take on all you want to, and when you’re not—take time out to take care of you.

If you take nothing else from this post, take this: Don’t spend another day beating yourself up for something you have no control over. Do start listening to your body, and giving it--and yourself--the respect you deserve. If you don’t know how to do that, if you’re scratching your head at the very thought of it,  like I once was, then check out my blog, my Living with PMDD Facebook page, or my book, PMDD and Relationships, for more information on how to better manage your PMDD, as well as support, encouragement, and tips on how to be a better you…all month long.

The Voices of PMDD -- The Rising and Passing Storm

Today I am honored to be able to share the work and insight of guest author Julie Peavey, who initially wrote this essay about her PMDD for an English class.  I believe it will strike a chord in many hearts, and says things that have been left unspoken for far too long.  Millions of women the world over are losing precious days and weeks of our lives due to this menstrual disorder, with no real relief in sight.  

How much longer must we suffer like this?  

How do I effectively describe what I go through each month?  How do I compare who I really am to the ugly beast that raises its head, without sounding like someone who is insane?  Every month, because of Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, or PMDD, I temporarily become someone other than myself as I enter a storm that I cannot control and must wait for it to pass.

            I can feel the PMDD approaching, hovering, waiting.  It feels like a another presence, a shadow, that lives inside of 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 for a little while, but I can’t stop it and it slowly creeps forward, closer than it was before.  I try to prepare for the inevitable, knowing that I can never really prepare myself for what is about to come.

Darkness, despair, and swirling thoughts descend upon me.  There is a part of me that wants to give up.  I could easily spend hours lying in silence, trapped with my own thoughts in my head.  I question my existence and purpose.  “Why am I here?  Do I really matter?”  My thoughts jump from one to another so quickly that I can’t even fully register them.  Except for one.  One thought keeps coming back over and over again no matter how hard I try to push it away or change it.  That is the thought of being alone and wishing that I had someone I could connect with at that moment, someone who would really understand me for who I am and what I’m going through.  I feel the loneliness in the pit of my stomach and the tears start to flow.  I am unable to stop the emotions once they start, which only leads to frustration at my inability to control the crying.  The tears flow heavier.  I beat myself up for my lack of self-control.  In my head I am yelling at myself to stop crying, to suck it up.  It doesn’t help.  I cry harder, I wail like an infant who yearns for her mother’s embrace, because I too, am in need of a comforting touch to ease the pain of loneliness.  My mind lies to me as I’m not truly alone, but I can’t comprehend that, I believe the lies.

            The loneliness and sadness overpower me.  As a tornado twists and turns and destroys everything in its path, so do those two emotions.  They swirl inside of me destroying any rational thoughts and creating turmoil.  I feel as if I am wrapped in a heavy cloak of loneliness.  Its weight is present in my every thought and action.  My desire to reach out for help is shattered by the false realization that there isn’t anyone I can turn to for even a moment of comfort.  I have no need to share my cloak; all I need is to feel a small amount of weight lifted by the simple connection with a positive soul. 

            Then the depression starts and I go in the opposite direction and want to avoid contact with people.  I write in my journal “Go ahead, lock me up and put me away.  Help me escape this existence called life.  Medicate me until I can no longer remember my name or feel this pain.  Isolate me from the world and allow me to create voices in my head.  At least they will understand me.  Take from me what I do not want and give me peaceful bliss instead.” 

I stay home from work and spend hours wrapped in my blankets thinking that this will somehow help.  I finally pull myself out of bed only to sit in front of the television and numb the emotions with food and hours of watching Netflix.  This is only a temporary fix and somehow I finally garner the strength to reach out to an online community, a family of understanding souls who also suffer every month.  The support comes; words of encouragement and wisdom are given with empathy and compassion.  We know better than anyone else what each other goes through and because of that we are there for each other if only we ask.  “This too shall pass” is shared with me, one of our favorites, because we all know that this eventually will pass.

            And it does pass; the storm ends and the waves of depression subside as the beast settles down to rest until my body decides to send the chemicals needed to wake her from her sleep once again.  The sadness and loneliness are gone and the heavy cloak is replaced with a veil of happiness.  Life has meaning again and I laugh easily and freely. I feel peaceful and calm as I rise early to watch the sun crest the horizon and wash away the darkness.  There is light in my soul again and I stroll in the sunlight and witness nature’s glory all around me.  I experience delight and appreciation in each passing moment, basking in the joy of life.  Like the butterfly that emerges from its cocoon transformed, so too, have I emerged from the storm transformed back into my true self.  I reconnect with my friends and family and vow to always treasure the love and close bonds that we share.  I re-visit the online community and this time, I am one of those offering support and words of encouragement, because I understand exactly what they are going through and wish to ease their suffering if I can.

            The days move forward and I search for a remedy from this madness called PMDD.  I am hopeful that with the help of my doctors I will eventually find a solution that will lessen if not eliminate these symptoms.  I am temporarily free, and yet I can’t help starting the countdown until the next battle begins, and I hope, I hope and pray for the strength and courage to make it through the storm one more time.

To find out more about PMDD and what is being done (and what needs to be done) to help women with this disorder, please visit the National Association for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder/Gia Allemand Foundation, or the NAPMDD Facebook page.  

Also, until midnight October 26, 2016 NAPMDD is participating in the Love Is On Revlon challenge in an effort to raise One Million Dollars for PMDD Research.  We are currently in the top 12 of 150 competitors.  With your help, we could reach number one.  For more information, go here. 

A Special PMDD Quote of the Week for Easter

I love this quote and am sharing it not because it shows that there's something lacking in us.  It's not about us not being whole...It's about us being strong and fierce in our will to follow our dreams and live every day the best we can despite having a thorn stuck in our side.  It's an ode to every one of us for waking up, despite wanting to never open our eyes again.  It does make us more complete than ever... Having to deal with something we never asked for has certainly changed us and I want to believe that we have changed for the better or at least try to, every single day. ~Neha Rajawat

I thought this an especially appropriate quote for Easter, a time that is almost as busy and stressful for women with PMDD and their families as Christmas. Therefore I wish you a moment to yourself, the strength to dig deep down and survive the weekend no matter what you are facing, be it chaos or isolation, and the certain knowledge that many, many others who have PMDD know and understand what you are going through. You are not alone in your struggles on this, or any other day. ~Liana 

PMDD, the Holidays, and Relationships

Going into the holiday season, often a time of stress in general, but especially so for PMDD women, who often can not predict how we will feel or how much energy or motivation we will have from day to day, I thought I'd revisit a few posts on relationships to remind us of what's important, what's not, and what we can do about it.

Here are the links to my series of posts about all sorts of relationships, because between now and when life settles down again in January, we'll most likely be dealing with more people than we do the rest of the year combined. So feel free to bookmark this page, and refer to it as needed :)

Relationships Begin With You

Learning to Treat Yourself Like a Friend

HOW to be a Friend to Yourself

Choosing Your Friends Wisely

Choosing Your Family

How to Survive Family Gatherings

It's Not Personal, It's Just Your PMDD

Finding the Right Partner

Dealing with PMDD - Advice for Men

and, as a gentle reminder,

They Only See Our Failures

Take care, God Bless, and may your holidays be happy.

The Voices of PMDD, A Guest Post by Alice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Voices of PMDD, The Bigger Bitch, by Michelle

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I can’t give in. 

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

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

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

Today it worked.

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

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