Today they told me I have PMDD.
It was no surprise really. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or distressed. Would knowing make me feel these emotions more intensely? Sometimes being less self-aware might be a blessing, but the truth is, I’m the opposite. I feel everything around me; within me. I can feel my ovaries every month as the cysts start to form. I can feel the swelling, the cells as they grow, the warmth that radiates from them – not the nice kind of warmth, the scary warmth. The warmth that brings a flood of emotions, of heat, of powerlessness. This is pain.
It’s watching from the outside as my hands type the hurtful message, the words speak a truth that doesn’t exist, my tongue spits fire at something that is not deserving. This is the dysphoria they spoke of.
I sit and wonder how long have I suffered this? It’s hard to know what was related to menstruation and cysts, and what was related to my perceived hellish childhood? Was it even that bad or did I just make it up? God I can see how this gets confused with bipolar disorder. I want to paint about it, write about it, cry about it. I wish I could draw what I feel right now because a picture could paint a thousand more words than I could ever type.
When did this all start? My earliest memories of this painful instability were for sure at around 12. I couldn’t sit at the dinner table with my family. My dad had left. It wasn’t right. I missed him so, so deeply. It felt like my heart had run away from me. I would excuse myself from the table to sit in my room with my dinner plate, crying and crying and crying, unsure of why. I hated those days. The anxiety filled my heart so deeply that it shook me to my core. The night terrors stopped me sleeping. The anxiety made me a recluse. My mum told me to visit the nurse next door. She gave me Restavit to help me sleep. Maybe this was the precursor to my lingering struggle with drugs as a young adult…who knows. Maybe it was the date rape. Maybe it was the abusive ex. Could have been the sister I lost to cancer. Could these be precursors to a brain that can no longer deal with hormones? I don’t know, but it’s a dark place. And it’s hit me hardest at a time when things had finally slowed down.
All of these issues had been neatly tucked away, no need to ruffle any feathers. Dream job, dream boyfriend, dream life. And now this. Darkness for no reason. At least back then I had an excuse to cry. I don’t know that I even really care, show me this in a week and I’ll refuse to read it. It doesn’t sound like me at all, ask my work colleagues. I am the life of the party, I am always laughing, always seeing the light in dark places.
I sure hope that I see the light again soon. If someone could just bring it to me…just pop it down next to my glass of wine…right there.
Great, thank you, and goodnight.
About The Warrior:
Recent diagnosis of PMDD… Trying to navigate a life with what feels like 2 versions of myself… Currently looking for alternative treatments.