A day in the life of PMDD

 

I had a bad night. 

It was time to get Oscar to sleep. He was unsettled, in a happy to be alive excited kind of way. Which was awesome. he went to bed…. Eventually. Although it took a few times and a lot of support from James as I was giving myself permission to crash but trying to remain present enough to be in mum mode just in case. He got up a few times with an abundance of excuses as every 7 year old does sometimes. 

I asked James to play piano because I felt myself slipping and spiralling. Music, or light, unpressurised touch are good anchor points for me to cling onto reality.

PMDD is like having all the worst narratives circulating and spending a lot of mental energy batting them off. I’ve become quite good at it. It takes a great deal of awareness but I’m doing it. I actually thought, if I got good at that perhaps there wouldn’t be an issue. I thought if I took the prescribed drugs, I thought if I came off the prescribed drugs and took loads of supplements, i thought if I rested more, if I paced myself, if I had more boundaries, I expressed my needs more, reached out for help, I thought and thought and thought, for months and months to prevent the worst  and I still have bad nights…

Sometimes I know it’s because I over did it. Others times there’s no rhyme or reason. I guess things just come up during PMDD ? And I have no control over how and when they come up in that window. 

There are a lot of people — especially in trauma therapy, somatic therapy, bodywork, and PMDD communities — who feel that hormonal shifts can make old emotional material, body memories, and nervous-system patterns far more accessible or activated. It’s like every filter drops and everything unresolved becomes louder.

Last night I started to get a hot flush, the front part of my brain was throbbing, it felt staticky as did the rest of my body. My stomach was twisted, my arms ached. The best I can describe it is like a migraine, sometimes like a visual migraine but it’s a full body feeling, like the equivalent of the flue takes over. It hits like a wave and any extra sensory thing is enough to make me hide or explode. 

James offered to give me a foot rub, but that felt like it would be too much.

I lay covering my head in the fetal position and the pain got so bad even after pain killers that I cried. I went to the toilet, I returned to see the dog sitting outside my room and I crouched around him for any comfort I could get. He stayed solid for me to put my weight on him and that gave me some relief. I looked up to see James with his arms out and pure panic set in. I know it must be confusing for anyone but human touch is pressure. It’s weight on me, not weight off. Emotionally and physically. It feels trapping and restraining, not relieving. I was annoyed he didn’t get that. I felt guilty. All of this added to the pain of the experience in an already over loaded system. There is a thin line when I’m in that state where I can lean into becoming delirious and that’s frightening. if I have the ability to navigate the negative thoughts, I’m safe. But if I loose the ability to do that, then the paranoid thoughts become facts I believe.  

I went back into bed. I asked him to play piano and he did for an hour till I fell asleep. 

The next morning my arms ached like I’d been fighting off wolves all night. 

I felt a bit better though. I wrapped myself around James, grateful, relieved I had the capacity to touch him.

We dropped Oscar off to school. I decided to take some adhd meds to see if it would help. James did practically everything to help get Oscar ready for school. 

We got back, we cuddled on the sofa for a bit. Then gradually the wave started to hit again… I asked James for space again and more pain killers. I took more than I should. Which is rare. I don’t know why it’s worse this month. But right now, all I get is negative thoughts circulating, that somewhere along the lines I’ve failed to prevent this pain and now I’m a burden to everyone around me. 

So it’s better to observe the thoughts for what they are and let them pass… like tennis, batting them off as they come and letting them go. 

Clarity comes when I get my period. That’s where I can see what preventative measures I have been able to control and perhaps didn’t take to have prevented the level of pain I’m in. But in the mean time, James has ordered me a headset that’s supposed to help… it’s expensive. To rent it’s £180 for 3 months. To buy it’s £400. 

I’m so desperate though and so defeated. 

Doctors don’t know enough in regard to women’s health because there’s never been enough research. The sheer level of pain that we exist with and tolerate because there’s no cure for what many of us carry. 

When there are so many scientists and so much knowledge that could be easily gained but bureaucracy and patriarchy get in the way….

The foxglove flower. There’s a medicine used to treat the heart. Too much or too little can be fatal.

there’s always a risk that the treatment I receive from the doctor could make me feel worse. But that worse for me, could be fatal. Especially when paranoid thoughts could become facts if I slip into feeling delirious.  

It’s mad to think that in 2 weeks time I’m going to experience so much enthusiasm for life that I’ll be up till 2am rearranging kitchen cupboards and creating art and cleaning the whole house and being incredibly productive…