hormones

What it’s like to Love Someone with PMDD: Two Sides of the Same Coin.

April 10, 2023 — Leave a comment 
Trigger warning ⚠️ contains references to suicidal ideation. Severe mental health health and Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.

‘I used to shout at times of frustration, ask him what the fuck he’s playing at, but this new level of suppression required to stop me exploding in front of my kids, often leads to tears instead.’

Me

We’re supposed to be going out. I don’t really feel like it, actually that’s an understatement, I don’t feel at all like it. I’m trying to put on a brave face for them. It’s futile. I’m waiting for him to get our youngest child dressed but it feels slow, as though he’s not doing it fast enough, on purpose, maybe to annoy me. So the tears prick the back of my eyes and before I know it, I’m shaking with sobs. I used to shout at times of frustration, ask him what the fuck he’s playing at, but this new level of suppression required to stop me exploding in front of my kids, often leads to tears instead. Deep down I know this is irrational behaviour. I even say aloud “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m like this.” But they’re just words aren’t they? I’m still like it.

It’s not his fault, and it’s certainly not the children’s fault. Some would argue it isn’t even my fault, because Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder is physiological. It’s not a behavioural choice. I don’t choose to want to run the-fuck-away or open the flood gates to save myself from screaming the house down every-time I feel overwhelmed.

Some would also argue that there lies the choice. But there’s a stigma attached to a woman’s reproductive system that fuels societal norms and tells me I should be able to control this. I wish people didn’t really believe that. Sadly, many do.

I can feel my senses screaming, the hair on my scalp feels sore, the streams of noise I can hear, the kids to-ing and fro-ing around the house, collectively chattering, the sound of toys clattering and zips being pulled on coats, all feels as though it’s taking place inside of my head. The sounds are amplified and terrifying, because it doesn’t feel normal. I wonder if maybe I’ve finally reached a level of mentally ill that is beyond reparation. But even if that was true, what would I do?

I think about suicide and the perfect ideal of disappearing into an anonymous abyss. I think about not blowing up my life on a two week roster. I think about it against my will. I think about not disappointing more of my loved ones. I think about it, but I can’t do anything with the thoughts, because doing so would harm them irreparably too, and then I wouldn’t even be here to say I’m sorry. And I am sorry. I’m so sorry they have to put up with this. With me.

‘I’m frustrated, yes. Who wouldn’t be. I’m frustrated with the situation.’

Him

Of course I’m sick of walking on eggshells. I know she’s going to kick off in a minute and it’ll be my fault. It’s always my fault. The octaves are increasing and I can sense her anguish. I’m frustrated, yes. Who wouldn’t be. I’m frustrated with the situation. It’s definitely gotten worse since the second pregnancy, and the birth of our son. Or maybe I was just more able to tolerate it before we had two kids. Having children makes the situation harder. I’m running around back and forth trying to get the kids ready and make sure she’s ok. I can’t do everything. I know she’s spoiling for a row. I can feel her distress and it’s grating, because it’s really tough not to take it personally. I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she’s hurting. I don’t put up with this shit for the sake of it. I put up with it because I know her, and this isn’t her.

I try to preempt stressful situations and get ahead of them. Sometimes I don’t listen to the nagging, if I’m honest I don’t always listen to how bad she feels. It’s not because I don’t care, I think we all (men) do this to some degree. We’re just trying to keep our head above water too. Trying to fix it. I hate seeing her in pain. I know it’s real, but I don’t know how to help.

‘I know I’m useless. I guess this need to be useless alone makes me feel noble.’

Me

He’s going to leave me soon. I push him away cyclically because I think it’ll be easier, easier for him, not for me. I know I’m useless. I guess this need to be useless alone makes me feel noble. If I am not around to hurt them with my lack of energy, my anger or my tears, surely that’ll make me a better person? I’ll disappear for them.

Who would want to put up with a hormonal, angry, anxious, and constantly unwell, wife? I’m the mother of his kids but I’m not a great one, am I? How could I be when I can barely keep up with our children? I struggle to walk very far, I’m always tired and I dare say, my pelvic floor ain’t what it used to be. I’m overweight because I’m pumped full of hormones, and I crave sugar in the middle of the night. I’m not the woman he fell in love with. I know that much. I was a skinnier, funner, possibly sexier, but still angry, bitch back then.

I often wonder how we’ll survive this. How we keep coming back from it every month.

Him

I love her. We get through it because the good days keep us going. She is a great mum. I know she doesn’t think she is but I’m proud of her, and I trust her parenting implicitly. Our kids are kind because she’s taught them to be. I know she worries about our daughter picking up on things, but the way I see it is different. I see her doing her best. Our kids are lucky they have what they need, and we have fun. Yes it’s hard, but it’s not just hard. It’s amazing too.

Me

I know everyone fucks their kids up a little bit. With the best intentions our actions impact them. I worry. No, worry isn’t a strong enough word. I am petrified that my kids will remember my dysfunction and forget all the times I tried. Equally, I don’t want them to shoulder the burden of believing I fought only for them. I want to find the strength to do it for me, but it’s hard. I’ve been doing it for too long. I don’t sleep. My brain is a cacophony of clashing thoughts. For two weeks out of every four, I hold on white-knuckle, in an attempt to get to the next phase. It feels like a game of Street Fighter except for the fact that completing a level isn’t victorious. The end is never the end. When the mental torture subsides, I am left with acute physical symptoms. Pain that takes weeks to disappear. Debilitating migraine attacks, chronic and all encumbering fatigue. Dense brain fog, mouth ulcers, and chest pain. Even my face hurts. I might do a small task and need to sleep for the rest of the day. It’s a lot of pressure on him. A lot.

‘Sometimes I say the wrong thing, like “it’s in your head” but I don’t mean it’s not real.’

Him

She says I don’t communicate with her but sometimes it’s easier just to push through. Because there is an end. She sees it as forever, but it’s not all the time. I’m not making excuses for her, but I don’t see it as constant. Maybe I have more hope, but it’s life factors that make life hard, not just her illnesses. Life would be easier if we had more childcare, she got more rest, we had more money. Maybe if I could work less, and so on. Even if we had those things and the gift of hindsight, none of them would cure her health, or eliminate all of our problems, because there’s no such thing as no problems. Families aren’t perfect. Our bests’ might sometimes look different but we’re both doing the very best we can. Everybody I know is dealing with something, and I don’t say that to minimise how she feels, I say it because it’s true. I say it to reassure her, that whatever the problems are, nothing is so bad that I’d give up on her. We’re a family. I don’t dwell on things in the same way she does. I know from living with her that being able to not dwell is a luxury. She doesn’t switch off because she can’t. Sometimes I say the wrong thing, like “it’s in your head” but I don’t mean it’s not real. How she feels. I don’t mean I don’t believe it. I know it’s real. I just want her to know that I don’t worry about us in the same way she does, because I know we’ll be okay.

Chemical Menopause, My Journey: The First Update

March 18, 2023 — 1 Comment

The sensory disruption caused a visceral reaction in me and the tears fell. I tried to hide them from my daughter, my eldest, the one who sees all – but I knew she’d noticed.

TW⚠️ PMDD.

  • Cycle: day 17📆
  • Chemical Menopause: day 23💉
  • Mood: Hopeless. Ashamed. Overwhelmed.🥺🔄😭

I knew I was ‘on the turn’ I woke up from a nap last evening anxious and with a montage of intrusive thoughts running through my head.

I tried to shrug it off. I was exhausted from being awake the night before with stabbing pains in my right ovary. I did an ovulation test, mostly just to prove to myself, I know my body as well as I think I do. I am still ovulating.
Logic told me, if I knew it was coming perhaps I could get on top of it?

No. This morning (18.03.23) might have gone differently if I’d had Shaun home, but he had to work and I was alone with both kids.

I told myself we needed to get outside. I called my mum to see if she wanted to come. She was busy but I told her not to worry about me. I was going to be fine.

I wasn’t fine.

I got both kids dressed ready to go out. On our way out of the door I realised I didn’t have my car keys, only to then notice the car wasn’t in the driveway. I’d forgotten that Shaun had it because his is in the garage.

No bother, we’d walk to the park.
I got the kid’s coats and shoes on, put K in the buggy then opened the front door to a thundery downpour.

Tears pricked my eyes and I could tell C was upset we weren’t going to the park after all. I got K back out of the buggy, he started screaming. The sensory disruption caused a visceral reaction in me and the tears fell. I tried to hide them from my daughter, my eldest, the one who sees all – but I knew she’d noticed.
I wanted to explain why I was crying, but doing so just made me cry more.

I don’t want to be this person, desperate to hold it together, but I am her. I’ve spent a lifetime acting impulsively. Acting on my emotions is normal for me.
Just because I’m aware of it now, doesn’t make emotional regulation easier.

I needed help.
I called Shaun to come home, but in doing that I felt an overwhelming sense of shame.
Why can’t I cope?
I was fine yesterday.
Why am I such a useless mother?
They deserve better than this.
Why can’t I stop feeling like a crazy person?
I should be able to control this by now.

Thus the shame cycle continues.

“Being told we can do anything we put our minds to, when in fact we feel utterly incapable when in crisis, perpetuates stigma”

I know it’s going to take time, not just to shut down my ovaries, but to learn new ways to channel the feelings I’m so used to acting on. Self awareness is crucial, but it isn’t a cure all solution. It doesn’t automatically give you a surefire way to break decades of habitual behaviours.

Asking for help, admitting that you don’t feel capable or able to function, parent, be rational, isn’t easy. In fact it can be an excruciatingly painful process and one of the reasons many people don’t reach out. Saying ‘I can’t’ is something we’ve been told for generations is just an excuse.

I remember as a kid hearing words like: ‘There’s no such thing as can’t’

‘You could if you wanted to’

Being told we can do anything we put our minds to, when in fact we feel utterly incapable when in crisis, perpetuates stigma. We’ve heard about toxic positivity right? I won’t dwell here, but I’m sure you get where I’m coming from when I say, I want to and I’m trying but somedays I really can’t…. Giving myself permission to admit this and trying to free myself from a cycle of shame is not instantaneous.

My solution, I’m realising, is an evolving journey of small changes, with setbacks, determination, and a whole lot of hope.

I believe in hope, because I know without it I probably wouldn’t be here.

I’ll update again after my second implant.

Teal Tuesdays – The Fundraiser You Need to Get Behind this April, and Why.

March 15, 2023 — Leave a comment

I’m going to be presumptuous and assume that the majority of you that follow me know, I have PMDD.

Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder is a severe negative reaction in the brain to the natural rise and fall of estrogen and progesterone. It’s suspected this reaction arises from a cellular disorder in the brain. Symptoms can worsen over time and or around reproductive events such as menarche (the first menstrual cycle), pregnancy, birth, miscarriage, and perimenopause. Three weeks ago I chose to turn off my ovaries. A subcutaneous implant of GNRH Analogue was placed under the skin of my abdomen to shut down ovarian function. This process is called Chemical Menopause or medically induced menopause. It should (if it works) put my body into a reversible menopausal state. If this works well and symptoms subside I’ll hopefully be added to the waiting list to have my ovaries removed. This isn’t a first line treatment, nor is it an easy one to endure but for the sake of my health specifically my mental health I felt I had no choice but to utilise this option.

So why the fundraising and what’s this about Teal Tuesdays?

April is PMD awareness month. A whole month dedicated to raising awareness for those of us living with a premenstrual disorder. And this year IAPMD the charity that facilitate awareness month are making Teal Tuesdays their big fundraiser.

How do I get involved? That’s the easy part. Below is a simple step by step guide to taking part.

Why do you need donations? Donations help IAPMD continue to provide vital spaces and educational resources for patients, healthcare providers, and researchers. A donation of just US $25 can fund a 1:1 peer support session for those in need. Funds raised also help IAPMD to further research Premenstrual Disorders and support their mission to create a world where those with a PMD can not only survive – but thrive!

Can I host an event or do my own sponsored thing? Yes absolutely. IAPMD have curated a list of ideas to make it easy and fun to participate.

Image used with permission

Why Teal? The official ribbon colours for PMDD are teal into black and like many charities have a colour that represents them, IAPMD wanted theirs to be a signature colour for those who fundraise for them. Plus, it’s a great colour and IAPMD can’t wait to see what you do with it!

Can I buy something to wear? Yes! Bristol based designer and fellow PMDD patient, my mate, Amy Steel of One Tuff Muvva has donated some super fun designs that you can purchase on T-shirts and a variety of other items. Find them here.

Note from me: PMDD is a debilitating chronic illness that is widely misrepresented and dismissed. It takes a person on average 12 years to get an accurate diagnosis and many women are misdiagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. This charity has not only helped me understand my condition better with their comprehensive resources, their groups have answered many of my questions. Though international IAPMD have a small team and each one of them work tirelessly to make Premenstrual Disorders visible. Their mission is to create a world where those with a PMD can not only survive; but thrive. If you are someone who was assigned female at birth, a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister – I urge you consider making IAPMD a cause you get behind. PMDD & PME can and does ruin the lives of those living with it. Without information and awareness sufferers will continue to be misdiagnosed and incorrectly treated. It can occur at any age and worsen over time. IAPMD is the only charity of its kind providing international support to PMD sufferers worldwide.

If you’re able, please help!

HRT to treat PMDD week 19

November 27, 2022 — Leave a comment

Can’t believe it’s been 9 weeks since I last wrote an update on my HRT journey. A journey is exactly one of the words I’d use to describe it. There’s so much in the media at the moment about the use of hormone replacement therapy, and often strong opinions both for and against. I’d say for me, I’m still pretty on the fence.

So what are the three words I’d use to describe this most recent cycle? Improved, unusual, and you guessed it (a) journey.

Improved. Because, for the first time since commencing treatment I felt a really significant improvement in psychiatric PMDD symptoms last month. The level of anxiety was what I consider bearable (no anxiety is nice, but when you’ve felt close to the edge every month for decades, bearable is considered good!)

Unusual. This one is a weird one. I can’t work out why my symptoms were reduced. I’ve been using ovulation strips when I think I’m ovulating to confirm that I’m still cycling, and unfortunately- I am. So it’s not as if there was some kind of ovarian wipe out that can be thanked for the minimal mental turmoil. But we celebrate small wins here. And it’s nice to report feeling less tormented, for once.

The Journey is ongoing. In fact, I’m certain it always will be. Whether that be post op – or continuing with my reproductive system ‘in tact.’ I know this, because trauma and our experiences of it never really leave, so even in the absence of horrific PMDD my mind is still naturally searching for worse case scenarios. It can pluck them so easily from seemingly thin air!

Observations

I feel I need less oestrogen around ovulation and more straight after it. A steady dose of high supplementation is not always the missing jigsaw piece. I am not medical in any way, but I know my body, probably better than I know anything. If I have too much on the lead up to ovulation, I become anxious in follicular. This is less than ideal because this should be my ‘good’ week. So I am going to talk to my gynaecologist about tweaking dose and admission around this time, and see if it results in a positive change.

I’ve started planning my life around PMDD again. I used to do this around my period specifically, but now I focus solely on my moods and when they’re likely to turn. It’s not ideal, but it is necessary to get the best out of my days.

I’m about to ovulate again any day now and my usual body aches, shingles pain and mouth ulcers are creeping back in, as they do every month around this time. So it’ll be after next week that I’ll tell if I had a one off better cycle last month, or if HRT can indeed finally be thanked for the decrease in negative mood fluctuations. It’s a rollercoaster that’s for sure, but anything, any scrap of positivity is better than PMDD itself. So like with most minor improvements in my life, I cling to them with fervour and hope for the best.

Because in the end, despite science and medical intervention, hope is what keeps me going. ❤️

Ask Me About PMDD

August 26, 2022 — 2 Comments

Earlier this week I shared the below image to my Instagram stories and gave you the opportunity to ask me any questions you might have about PMDD.

Image used with permission from IAPMD

Having suffered with this illness for more than 20 years I feel I am equipped to answer questions relating to the condition and as a result of my own experience. However, it’s important to note I am not a medical professional and all answers are my own words, with no association to any organisations that are linked in this article. Relevant links are included so that you are able to corroborate mentioned treatment options and use diagnostic tools.

How did you obtain diagnosis?

This question came up several times, with many of you saying you had tried and failed to have PMDD accurately represented when speaking to GP’s and medical staff. In my experience from discussing PMDD within the online community I have come across similar tales and it’s one that follows a similar trajectory to that of my own experience. I first suffered from mental illness at aged 13, suicidal ideation, attempts and thoughts occurred, followed by bouts of extreme rage, panic attacks and enduring anxiety. It wasn’t until some years later I had made the connection between my feelings and my menstrual cycle. I remember seeing a GP aged around 19 when I said I believed I was suffering from a hormonal imbalance. I didn’t know at this stage that PMDD is a reaction to normal hormone fluctuations, an imbalance was my assumed interpretation. She told me all women suffered ‘some PMS symptoms’ and that there was no diagnostic blood tests that would give insight into my mental health and it’s correlation with my cycle. Since then I have seen the GP and several gynaecologists in excess of 100 times for the same problem. When I finally began to be taken seriously around age 23, my GP still referred to my condition as severe PMS. Last year aged 33, I became so unwell during pregnancy and after the birth of my son that I was hospitalised and it was only then, under psychiatric care that a psychiatrist referred to my illness as Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. More recently this year when seeking further intervention privately, the Gynaecologist (whom is also head of his department in an NHS hospital) again confirmed a PMDD diagnosis.

Diagnosis is a huge relief, it allows us to stop gaslighting ourselves into believing we are raging hypochondriacs. BUT clinical diagnosis is not necessary for treatment of the condition. Your GP can advise, and treat PMDD symptoms even whilst still referring to it as PMS. If these early treatments such as lifestyle changes, hormonal birth control and SSRI’s work for you, you may never need a formal PMDD diagnosis. That’s not to say you won’t want one for your own clarity. If this is important to you, I suggest keeping on at your GP for specialist referral. If you are struggling to get a diagnosis and believe you have PMDD please head over to IAPMD for help and information on diagnostic criteria and talking to your doctor. They have an array of tools to help you cycle track and a glossary of terms that will help you explain exactly how your condition affects you see: Iapmd toolkit.

You also have fibromyalgia, do symptoms of both conditions overlap?

In short, yes. In detail, a higher percentage of fibromyalgia sufferers are women. A symptom of the condition in women can include painful and heavy periods dysmenorrhea. It’s also known that many persons living with fibromyalgia will suffer mental health problems, so it’s my opinion and personal experience that it’s fair to say symptoms overlap. PMDD can trigger a flare up in fibromyalgia pain, more prominent and prolonged fatigue, as well as sensory overload, brain fog and migraine attacks. The key difference between the two is that PMDD only occurs during the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle, which occurs between ovulation and menstruation. Instead, fibromyalgia symptoms can and do occur at any time during the menstrual cycle. I am often alerted to the arrival of PMDD by waves of crippling anxiety and intrusive thoughts that disappear when my period arrives. However some physical symptoms that might be triggered by PMDD end up lasting long after it’s end and will alert me to a Fibro flare up. Also with my experience of fibromyalgia, pain doesn’t ever disappear entirely. I always have some form of baseline pain. Many people also report joint pain with PMDD along with migraine attacks, these are present premenstrually as a result of PMDD and can occur and worsen at any time with fibromyalgia.

Can PMDD come on at any time in life?

Yes, it absolutely can. Some people find their PMDD starts or worsens with a reproductive event, such as menarche (which is when mine started) after pregnancy/birth or miscarriage (when mine worsened) or with the onset of perimenopause. For some it will seemingly come from nowhere. It is believed that PMDD can also be linked to genetics, childhood trauma and depression.

Is PMDD a disability?

Here in the UK, you are covered under the Equalities Act and therefore thought to have a disability if you have an impairment that is either, physical or mental and the impairment has a substantial, adverse and long term effect on your normal daily activities. Depending on the severity of your symptoms you could be covered under the act with a PMDD diagnosis. When explaining PMDD to my employer I advised how it affects me, for example: I suffer menstrual migraine attacks that leave me bed bound for days, along side extreme fatigue and joint pain. As well as this I also suffering debilitating anxiety, intrusive and suicidal thoughts and panic attacks, which make carrying out daily activities impossible. Cognitive impairment such as brain fog and an exacerbation of any underlying symptoms are also worsened with the onset of PMDD. The fact these symptoms occur every month, and last for 2 weeks makes this a long term condition with substantial impact on my life and ability to function.

Why do doctors prescribe SSRI’s for PMDD if it’s hormonal?

After diet and lifestyle changes SSRI’s are a treatment option to help manage the mood and anxiety symptoms that are present with PMDD. Whilst you may feel you aren’t depressed, some women (myself included) have found benefit in taking SSRI’s, both month round and only or double dosing during the luteal phase of your menstrual cycle.

Are palpitations a symptom of PMDD?

PMDD has many, varying symptoms. They range from severe mood alterations, to debilitating physical symptoms. I personally do experience palpitations during both ovulation and the luteal phase. I’m also extra sensitive to stimulants such as alcohol, sugar and caffeine during this time. All of which make palpitations worse and more noticeable. If palpitations are persistent it’s always best to get them checked out to rule out other possible causes, though I know many people experience them alongside profound anxiety, so if this is one of your PMDD symptoms it could also be exacerbating your palpitations.

Summary

  • PMDD is a chronic and debilitating condition with a range of symptoms that vary in severity.
  • There are a range of treatments used to treat PMDD and their effectiveness is very individual.
  • PMDD can and does exacerbate underlying conditions, this is sometimes referred to as PME (premenstrual exacerbation)
  • PMDD can occur at any time during a person’s menstruating life.

I hope this information is helpful. For more detailed and expert advice head to IAPMD where you’ll find everything you need to learn more about PMDD.

HRT to treat PMDD – Week 3

August 3, 2022 — Leave a comment

If I could sum up the last three weeks in three words they’d be INSOMNIA, ANXIETY, and HOPE.

Insomnia

So let’s start by telling you about the insomnia. I’m not going to sugar coat it, it’s been horrific. It began almost as soon as I started using Oestrogel and unfortunately it remains. If you’re reading this, you’re probably a HRT user yourself, menopausal, someone who thinks they may have PMDD or a PMDD sufferer. Or maybe you’re none of the above and have no previous insight into hormone replacement therapy at all… I know it can be confusing when deciding whether or not to try a new treatment, especially with how the media portray HRT as either a wonder drug (and for many it is) or a carcinogenic. But like with anything we put into our bodies, there are side effects to consider. For me, insomnia has been one of the most problematic. As a mother and someone whom lives with chronic fatigue and on occasion hypersomnia, I have found this particular symptom difficult to navigate. Mainly because, if you’ve ever lived with insomnia you’ll be aware of how it can feed into anxiety. Just how dark the depths of the night can become when sleep is evading you.

Anxiety

Since beginning HRT I’ve had loads more energy – which to some would be deemed a positive side effect. However, for me it’s not been so good, because the energy I seem to now have in surplus, is creating a quagmire of anxiety and ‘nervous tension.’ In short – I can’t relax. I’m feeling often keyed up and on edge.

A few other notable side effects have been:

  • Hot flashes
  • Nausea
  • Breakthrough bleeding – though this could be attributed to the recent mirena coil I now have in situ.

Hope

But I’m still hopeful…. Mainly because what else have we got if there’s no hope? And also because it’s very early days and adding in additional hormones was always likely to cause some symptoms particularly when you’re adding them to treat a hormone sensitivity and not necessarily a depletion as you would in menopause.

I’ve also just finished reading I BLAME THE HORMONES by Caroline Suzi Church and that gave me hope. It’s something I want to review on its own blog post, because the similarities between mine and Caroline’s PMDD trajectory are so similar, it’s more than I can possibly squeeze into a paragraph on this blog, but if you have PMDD you absolutely need to read it! Not only is it scarily accurate, a whole half of it is dedicated to treatment and self help. It really is a wonder of a book with so much insight into reproductive mental illness.

Positive changes

Finally, I need to finish by saying there have been some positive side effects, though fewer, it’s important for me to be transparent. Many people have great results using HRT and as mentioned above I am still really hopeful that I too, will get to experience more of these going forward. One positive change I’ve noticed is a reduction in the severity of my overall joint pain. Which is pretty huge considering I’m in pain almost all of the time. I’m not pain free now by any means, but my joints are beginning to allow more range of movement and I can only attribute this change to coinciding with my use of HRT. Another thing that’s improved is the horrific intrusive thoughts I was having. They are not gone altogether, but when it comes to feeling out of my mind I’ll take every single win (however small) I can get and this is one that suggests HRT could be the right direction for me.

PMDD Awareness Challenge: Day 24. Dear Younger Self

April 24, 2022 — Leave a comment

Oh Little You. What if you had known that this journey of menstrual hell, poor health, psychological trauma and self sabotage would eventually lead you to finding your best, most compassionate self? If you had known this would you have been kinder to you? I wish that you had, it may have made the road here easier. The paths you walked were often the wrong ones, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. You have an illness, several actually. A brain that absorbs too much and erupts like a volcano every few weeks. I wish you had believed in more holistic methods like therapy and diet much sooner as they may have helped you earlier. I wish you’d given yourself more opportunities and grasped life with less fear. I also wish you’d known that PMDD was lying to you. People didn’t always hate you, some did, and some didn’t know how to handle you, but I wish you hadn’t let PMDD convince you it was always your fault. That you were just some fucked up kid that there was little hope for, because that wasn’t true. I wish you had believed in your creative self sooner and found better ways to self soothe.

Right now in the present day, you are managing a lot, but you have the experience now that Little You didn’t have. The lessons you have learned and the life you have led, have not been easy. Without those lessons and life choices though, you may have never made it to this point. I wish you had known that when you felt as though you were fighting against the wind, that storms come and go. That it never stays dark forever, that believing your life is inherently terrible will only leave you feeling, terrible! PMDD has kept you stuck, on a loop of misery that left you feeling inadequate, wrong, and misunderstood. It didn’t tell you that one day you would be proud of your journey. That when you felt suicidal you didn’t want to die, but instead for the way you felt in those moments to die. For it to stop.

Little You should know, that you’ll also learn a lot from PMDD. You’ll learn that better days come. That somethings are out of your control. That life is a marathon and not a sprint and that deep down you are not some angry, misunderstood teenager. You’re a person that will grow, heal and learn.

I wish you knew how much you’d live to overcome.

PMDD Lightbulb Moments

April 2, 2022 — Leave a comment

This month is premenstrual disorder awareness month and I have teamed up with The International Association Of Premenstrual Disorders as a PMD Awareness Champion. Over the course of the month I’ll be sharing my personal experience of living with PMDD, as well as catching up with other PMDD warriors. This year’s theme is Connect The Dots and I talked to several women I’ve connected with via Instagram to find out how they connected the dots, between their hormones and their mental health. 

I asked these brave women three questions which were: 

1. When was your ‘light bulb’ moment?
2. How did you connect the dots?
3. Do you feel as though you’ve found a manageable treatment and if so, would you mind sharing what that is?

I’ve included my own answers below too.

Me, Steph:

I can’t tell you exactly when I knew it was PMDD because hormonal changes have affected me my whole life.

If I look back now I can see how the most traumatic experiences in my life were either in relation to my menstrual cycle or my reaction to such experiences was exacerbated by my hormones and their fluctuating.

For me, I was quite aware of the fact that hormones played a big role in my life and on both my physical health and mood, from a young age. In childhood I had a hormone condition called Premature Adrenarche. PA is diagnosed when your adrenal glands over produce sex hormones. Adrenarche can happen in both male and females, but obviously for females and AFAB individuals, puberty means periods. A lot of my dot connecting came down to PMD’s running in my family, thus having knowledge of them from other sufferers. Since menarche my moods have been severe during luteal, so bad that I was diagnosed with clinical depression at 13 years old and prescribed antidepressants. I also attempted suicide. It wasn’t until some almost ten years later, and I got my first iPhone, that I started cycle tracking using an app. Along with my mum’s knowledge of my symptoms and their severity, we pieced it all together and it became apparent that my symptoms were very obviously cyclical.

Over the years I have had many successes followed by, ultimate failures with treatment. Many treatment options have worked for a limited amount of time, until 𝐏𝐌𝐃𝐃 comes back with a vengeance. For example I’ve tried countless antidepressants and birth control and they have all helped for a period, until they don’t anymore. I can also say it’s definitely worsened in severity and duration since having children. Symptoms have also increased, such as allergies. I’m now allergic to the hair dye I’ve been using for a decade and silver. Migraine is relentless and an attack lasts for days. Treatment wise, I have biweekly B12 injections, try to manage my sugar intake, take SSRI’s month round and use progesterone only contraception – The latter has limited success in the treatment of PMDD, but combined with other methods works ok for me at the moment. What I have found really useful is, since the birth of my son 9 months ago, I have been having intense Dialectal Behavioural Therapy. DBT involves learning distress tolerance skills, and how to dial down the intensity of emotions. Skills include using holistic treatments too such as cold therapy. I really feel DBT has been invaluable in treating symptoms of PMDD particularly.

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Lori:

After giving birth I began mapping how I was feeling along side some cbt for PTSD due to a traumatic birth experience and I started to realise every cycle I was physically and emotionally not well

Research, research, research

CBD oils have been amazing, I live with chronic pain which worsens around my cycle and impacts sleep so these help me get into a deeper sleep, SSRI’s all month too. And lastly, the fitbit app tracking my cycle to rationalise why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling (I can pretty much tell exactly when I’m about to ovulate or bleed based on my emotional state)

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Amy:

For me, it was when I stumbled across the PMDD Information page on the Mind website.

After years of various tests and being told by the doctor that I’m ‘fine’ this was huge. I ticked every single box for PMDD symptoms and I just knew that this was what I was going through each month.

I went back to the doctor armed with this new knowledge plus a symptom diary that i’d been keeping for the previous 6 months and they agreed that the diagnosis was PMDD.

Yes. But it’s just sticking to it that’s the problem! My go to treatments are regular B12 injections, keeping on top of my SSRI intake, Ice hats, pain medication, plus loads of water and trying to cut down on sugar and fatty foods (even though this can seem like the most impossible task in the universe, during hell week!)

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Jaimie:

My lightbulb moment came when the doctors kept telling me I was ‘just’ depressed and giving me SSRI’s and the pill and wouldn’t listen that I only felt this way some of the time rather than fully. Hormonal contraceptives do not agree with me and I knew there was more to it than that but trusted them that they know what they’re doing.

It took a long time but I noticed that I felt immediately relieved and lighter as soon as my period started so good old google came to the rescue and I started reading about PMDD

I felt like for the first time what I had been going through was valid and real when no one seemed to believe me or understand.

I just don’t know how bad each cycle is going to be, however I did find an SSRI useful for a while, they’re not for everyone and I no longer take them. I’ve found that taking things easier/slowing down and planning things for the parts of my cycle where I know I’ll be more positive and less likely to cancel helps because I don’t then feel like I’m letting people down or being unreliable which is a big thing for me – getting outside whenever you can works wonders too even if you don’t feel like it or it’s raining being in nature does more good than people realise

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Maisie:

My light bulb moment was when I was with my ex partner and he called me a psychopath. I was so upset and angry that I punched a hole in the wall. I scared myself with how angry I got. I was so angry that he called me that, but it made me think about what I had done to warrant that, and I thought “shit, I’m not a psychopath, but I’m not myself either, somewhere in between maybe”. It was going round and round in my head, and for a few days every month leading up to my period, I was so deeply upset, I didn’t want to be here, and it was like a cycle that I couldn’t get out of. Why am I like this? This isn’t me. But in the moment, I couldn’t see it.

It wasn’t until I was out the other side of those few days that I could reflect on my behaviour and feelings and realise properly that it ISNT me! I spoke to my GP, who put it down to “bad periods”.

I told them this wasn’t just bad periods, bad periods don’t make you suicidal, aggressive, or run away. Bad periods are tummy cramps and a heavy flow.

I pushed for more help, tests, anything. I was advised to have therapy for my dark thoughts, and they prescribed me SSRI’s. After I gave birth, they changed me to ca different SRRI. But the main help for me is telling my close people “it’s coming” or “it’s happening”. I find myself apologising in advance. “I’m not going to be myself for the next few days and I’m sorry”. Which makes me even more frustrated. No one that I have met so far, has ever heard of PMDD. Except a few queens on Insta! I try to explain it to people by saying “it’s like the volume is turned up full blast on everything. My emotions, the hurt, the anger.” You could say something to me on a normal day and I’d brush it off. But say the same thing to me on those few days and my world comes crashing down. The best treatment I’ve found more than telling people, or medication, or therapy, is reminding myself that it’s all in my head. Sometimes that can be hard, and it doesn’t take the thoughts or sadness or anger away, but it makes them more bearable, knowing that I am ill, not crazy. My ex partner didn’t help, but now he’s gone it’s so much clearer to see. I’m poorly. I have been diagnosed with PMDD, it’s not just in my head but at the same time that’s all it is. Finding others who are going through the same thing and trying to raise awareness for PMDD to others as well as medical professionals helps too. I felt like I was going mad, because I was told I was, and felt like I was. But it was all in my head and that’s where it stays. Like you say (sic) Cunty Carol just comes to visit a few days a week, and where I used to be terrified of her unpredictability, now I can at least say “fuck off Carol, I know why you’re here and I’m okay with it, close the door on your way out”

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Subtle break-throughs

November 26, 2021 — Leave a comment

If you suffer from anxiety, or the feeling of impending doom and inexplicable terror that comes with panic attacks, the debilitating calamity that is intrusive thoughts, the unrelenting personality shift before your menstrual cycle because of PMDD? I hear you. I see you. I am you.

If you suffer from one or all of the mental illnesses mentioned above, you will know that logic is about as far away from fear as is possible. You may as well fly a rocket to Mars and you’d be no closer to logical thoughts during a panic attack. I’ve been having therapy for five months. The single longest stint I’ve ever managed to stick at anything relating to my mental health that doesn’t come in a blister pack. Full disclosure I take the pills too, I need them, but therapy is a different level of healing. It’s eye opening, confronting and real hard graft.

During these five months I have had breakdowns, many breakdowns. I have also experienced breakthroughs. These tend to be subtler, less outwardly monumental, but I can tell you from experience they are transcendent and quite awe-inspiring when you become aware of them.

I’m going to give you an example of one of my recent breakthroughs.

I am currently waiting for several hospital appointments, one of them may end up being quite life defining so it’s pretty important. With anything of importance for me, almost always comes anxiety. Throw in a self diagnosed terminal illness via Dr Google and we’re talking full blown life limiting panic attacks. But, not this time. I got my appointment letter a few days after the referral was made, though supposed to be seen within two weeks the NHS backlog means the clinic are running two weeks behind. Where as this kind of delay would usually lead to more panic, endless overthinking and probable sleepless nights, something has shifted in me and I feel different.

My logical brain has always known that there is little point in worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet, but regardless of my knowledge I have never been able to stop myself from said worry.

Worrying about tomorrow, steals today’s joy.

After going through what I have in the last five months, being scared of my own brain and constantly coming up against new challenges in trying to change the way I think, I decided right at the beginning of my recovery that I no longer wanted to live in fear. Of course simply not wanting something isn’t usually enough to stop it from happening. But with subtle changes and a keen desire to get better, engaging and working hard during therapy sessions and opening up fully to my mental health team, I have noticed a shift. I still feel anxiety around the appointment of course, but anxiety itself is a normal healthy human response. It only becomes problematic when it interferes with our everyday lives. And in this instance, relating to this appointment….I’m so happy to say it’s not doing that.

I don’t want to waste time worrying about an outcome that I cannot predict or influence. I don’t want to fear the worst only to find out when the time comes that it’s not the worst, then look back regretfully that I had wasted precious moments living in fear.

What if it isn’t a tiger in the long grass? What if it’s just a fluffy little kitten?

I won’t bullshit you, I know I’m not always going to be able to rationalise in this way. So many factors contribute to my own personal experience with anxiety and panic, that there will inevitably be times when I falter, and times when I fall. But what I’m doing right now, today, is I’m saying no to worrying about things that aren’t within my control. Isn’t anxiety itself a deep rooted need to control our fears and possible catastrophes?

How did I get here?

  • I took on board the offerings of tips my therapist suggested, such as grounding and breathing techniques and practised them even when I didn’t believe in them.
  • I reminded myself that if there’s a possibility that my world might fall apart, there’s also a possibility, it won’t.
  • I take prescribed medication religiously and stick with it for the recommended amount of time.
  • I’m trying, I say trying because I don’t always succeed, to implement healthier lifestyle changes, such as getting more exercise and eating healthier.
  • I write my feelings. It’s a personal favourite in helping me to process them.
  • I try to stay more in the present moment.
  • I have an amazing mental health team that I talk to regularly, even when I don’t think I have anything to say.

I know these things aren’t easy to do, I know this because it’s taken me twenty years to even begin to start really healing. But along with the above list, I also believe that celebrating small wins is a great way to remind ourselves that even when we are not where we want to be, we are further forward than we once were.

Me this week on a particularly bad day. Reminding myself it’s just a bad day not a bad life.
Also me this week on a better day

104 days postpartum

October 12, 2021 — Leave a comment

It’s funny how days are marked by our worst memories and our great ones, are often lost in mind with no clearly accessible date and time attached to them.

At 5am on the 11th October I woke up, eyes barely even open before I was thrust deep into a panic attack. My body wracked by the sensations, my mind reeling from the racing thoughts. To say I was devastated is an understatement, this is the first acute anxiety attack I’ve had in just under three weeks. Three weeks isn’t very long to most people, but it felt joyous to be able to think clearly for a while without the feeling of dread hanging over me. Without ruminating and catastrophizing. Without the pain in my teeth from my clenched jaw. Without the fatigue that hits you after yet another night of insomnia. Sleep when the baby sleeps… haha, if only.

What I’ve noticed though, in the fifty something days since I last updated my postpartum progress, is how hard I’ve tried to implement grounding techniques. How dedicated I have been to my recovery. I started a new contraception eight weeks ago to try and eliminate my periods, ergo reducing symptoms of PMDD. I’ve been on similar contraceptives in the past for the same reason. In this instance I have bled non stop for eight weeks. I am so run down I have ulcers in my mouth and reoccurring shingles pain, requiring more medication to combat. Around the same time I started the new contraception, I also switched my migraine medication for a slow release version and this has helped immensely with preventing attacks.

My son is now fifteen weeks old, he can hold a toy in his hand, chatter and laugh. but he rarely sleeps. His charming little face is one of the most beautiful I’ve seen, that is when it’s not screwed up like a tomato that’s past it’s safe to eat stage, wrinkly in places and as red as hell.

In the last one hundred and four days I have felt every emotion to ever exist. My days are now spent trying to wrestle a screaming baby into a car seat I’m unable to lift, and reading books about Biff and Chip with the big kid. I don’t get any opportunity to rest, which is hard when you have an illness that requires it. I’m mortified to admit some weeks it takes me three attempts before I manage a shower, and even then it’s hurried.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I find it much easier to remember all of the hard bits, the downs, the panic and the tears and I’m very good at choosing to ignore the successes. Deeming them unworthy in their minutiae. Such as; getting the baby down for a nap on the first attempt. Watching his sister cuddle up to him or gently bounce him in his bouncer with her foot, whilst idly watching yet another episode of Bluey. The beauty in the pumpkin patch photoshoot we’d had recently, a windy autumn day surrounded by orange and forest green, the memory of the rain pelting down on our clothes afterwards, and rushing home to drink hot chocolate.

Watching my son grow, though hard, has not been wholly clouded by my poor health. It’s been beautiful in so many ways, and I’ve enjoyed very much time spent with him. I can feel my confidence as a mother returning somewhat. I have my first night out coming up and I’m anxious. When my daughter was a baby I couldn’t wait to get out, feeling more than ever that I needed to let off steam. Now the only steam I’m interested in, is the steam coming from a freshly boiled kettle and the piping hot tea that comes after the boil.

My pelvis hasn’t healed, I am still struggling with walking as with any physical activity. Unfortunately, it does seem this is likely to be yet another long term problem, but we knew that was a possibility.

I use the word progress to explain how far I’ve come and it’s the reason I’m utterly disappointed when I come up against relapses like that earlier panic attack. Im devastated when Im unable to rationalise my intrusive thoughts. Yet in spite of relapses, hard days, long nights and tragically cold cups of PG tips, I’m grateful. Grateful for the support I’ve received from an amazing perinatal mental health team, from my family, and from those few close friends who selflessly and with conviction, care enough to remind me I’m doing ok.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and there are many people whom have contributed to my progress. Thank you. And here’s hoping for another 100 days of progress to follow.

54 Days postpartum

August 24, 2021 — Leave a comment
23.08.21

My daughter was on her way to bed last night when out of nowhere panic hit me full force. My son, lying in the crook of my arm, suddenly started to spit milk out from the sides of his slow flow teat, and I realised, the hand that was holding his bottle was shaking. I felt hot, from the feet up, like a flush, my brain scrambling for grounding thoughts that just couldn’t make their way to the forefront of my mind. It’s coming I thought, knowingly.

My husband comes when I call, and holds me tight. Our son, bewildered at why he’s suddenly had his bottle snatched from his mouth, our daughter, obliviously cleaning her teeth in the bathroom above our heads. Breathe Shaun tells me. Why am I like this???? I sob, trying to catch my breath. You’re not like anything, Steph. It’s a panic attack and it will pass. He reassures me, never letting me go.

It’s been 54 days since I gave birth. Our son will be 8 weeks old on Thursday 26th August.

This isn’t a birth story, because my birth story is too long, the trauma that surrounds my pregnancy will not shrink into an Instagram caption or a rushed blog post. This is a progress report.

When my son Kaiser was born, and during the days preceding, I was in a constant state of panic. I would have moments of calm, but they were fleeting and hard to grab onto. I’ve plateaued at a panic attack approximately once a week now. I know that a large part of their occurrence is directly linked to hormone sensitivity, yet that gives me no control or reassurance regarding their assault on my life.

I’m currently under the care of the most amazing perinatal mental health team, they are some of the best medical professionals I have ever come across in my entire life and I’ve met a few. Sadly this support was massively lacking during my pregnancy – but that is a story I’ve semi already told and one that would take up the duration of the rest of this blog. The point, is that I have some amazing people in my life at the moment helping me heal from acute anxiety, intrusive thoughts and various states of panic. I genuinely don’t believe without their consistent support during the postpartum period, that I would have gotten these bastard attacks down to once a week on my own.

The trouble is, I’m still very much in a state of fight or flight. During the periods of calm, I am logical. In fact I am probably calmer than I’ve ever been in my life and generally laid back (a term probably not often used to describe me as a person) but I can’t stay there, because as quick as I’m calm, a storm cloud opens up the heavens on my head and I am ready to flee the country as though I’m being chased by a hungry tiger.

However, during those moments of calm I have reflected. I have corrected, and I have made changes to my mindset. Living with chronic illnesses as I do, migraine, fibromyalgia, PMDD etc it’s easy to become all consumed by pain and suffering. The shift in my mindset has been that I don’t want to be consumed by this suffering anymore. I know I am going to suffer, bad days, sometimes bad weeks and maybe even bad months, but I don’t want it to consume me. I want change.

My community nurse said to me this week you have to do different to feel different and so I’m doing different. Every day I’m fighting tiny fires of fear. For example, I’m frightened of being alone with my kids in case I have a panic attack, but I’m staying alone with them anyway, because I know if I avoid this fear it will only grow.

I was absolutely distraught about Shaun returning to work after paternity leave, but I knew if he delayed that process I would be as scared, if not more so, when he eventually did.

I’ve been avoiding books and television that might be triggering or that contain storylines of anyone with mental illness, but very slowly I’m reintroducing those things into my life.

I’ve been too afraid to walk or drive anywhere on my own because of how much pain I’m in. What if I get stuck with the kids? And then what if whilst I’m stuck, I panic?

I’ve been too scared to enjoy days out for fear of repercussions on my body, or to go places more than half an hour away from my house in case I panic and need to flee, but slowly I am doing both.

I’m making this sound easy, and yet it’s been the hardest most hellish experience ever, doing things I’m so desperate to avoid goes against the grain. But I’m using these examples to measure my progress, because it’s so easy to feel as though I’m making absolutely no progress at all when anxiety strikes.

I want change. I want my life back. And I have to do different to feel different. I have to be open to the idea there are positive outcomes in life, because if I don’t open myself up to this possibility, I will forever be living half a life.

I think I’m failing but my kid still thinks I’m a superhero 🦸🏽‍♀️

March 4, 2021 — Leave a comment

It’s no secret that during pregnancy your hormones are all over the shop, one minute you’re chomping on cheese on toast and the next your crying into your cottage pie that your friend drove 25 miles to deliver. It’s a funny old game this growing a human malarkey.

Because my health has been on a steady decline since my daughter was born, this pregnancy though a lot like hers, has been overshadowed with worry and feeling unwell constantly. When I say constantly I mean it. It’s either not being able to walk, migraines, sickness, feeling faint, high blood pressure and the rest, it’s been bad, and not fun. Also those people who said you never get two the same, you were wrong.

That said the guilt of ‘wasting’ days in bed in an attempt to make the next one better and unable to do all of the things I want with my family has had a negative impact on my emotions. Team this with hormones and you have me, an unstable, anxious, dribbling mess.

This week said emotions have been on overdrive and I’ve spent countless hours in tears, I’m surprised there were any left after the first ten or so. My husband has looked at me with puppy dog eyes and a need to fix my broken spirit and my daughter has looked at me with longing and frustration. I haven’t been able to meet their demands, particularly those of the little person. She doesn’t get why mummy is always in bed and at one point I was worried she was going off the idea of having a brother because he’s been making her mum so poorly. It all hit a crescendo on Tuesday when Ciara wanted 5 things at once and I couldn’t even give her the simplest one, which was turn the volume up on the TV. I couldn’t do it because the bastard NowTV remote is a dodgy little fucker and it just would not work. Off she stomped whilst moaning at the dog and calling for her dad to come and fix the problem that mummy was incapable of rectifying.

Once I heard her footsteps on the stairs I burst into a fit of hysterics, threw the remote which bounced off the bed and smashed a photo on the bedroom wall. It wasn’t my finest moment because I couldn’t even roll myself off to pick up the glass before Shaun bursts in asking me WTF I was doing!?

Picture it, 5 month pregnant woman whose legs don’t work, rolling around on the bed with no bra on and crying inconsolably. It’s not a pretty image is it?

I don’t want to do this anymore I wailed, like an actual whale. To his credit, Shaun turns the tv off and shouts down to Ciara that they’re going to watch tele downstairs instead. I didn’t see them again that evening because I cried myself to sleep and woke up at 10pm and waddled into her room to give her a kiss goodnight, something I abhor to miss.

The next day I’m feeling full of shame and still in pain wondering how I’m going to get through the days for the next 4 months. But I needn’t of worried about the rest of the family because like clockwork they traipse in from school and work with smiles and cuddles for me and chat shit about their days as if the previous ones have been erased.

Ciara was pleased that I had finished colouring in her tiger costume with a sharpie for world book day and asked if she could come and snuggle in my bed.

This morning I got up at 7 after being awake from 2am with possibly the worst nerve pain ever. I say this because I can’t treat flare ups in the same way I would when I’m not pregnant ie with heavy drugs. The pain relief I’m taking at the moment just isn’t working to the same effect. Anyway up I get and by ‘up’ I mean sit up in my bed and paint my beautiful daughter’s face and send her off to school with a smile.

It doesn’t matter that I collapsed back in bed after and slept until lunchtime, because she was happy. When she got home she found me asleep in the bath because it’s the only place I don’t feel like my body is on fire and she poked me to tell me about her day. Including poo gate by another kid in class which we all found highly amusing.

I do feel like I’m failing life on the reg at the moment and somedays I can’t get on top of those crazy emotions and pretend I’m bossing it, because I’m not. But what I do know, with absolute clarity is that when it comes to my kids my best is good enough, and the need to be moving all the time and trying harder is born out of my own insecurities, not those of my five year old. She loves me on all of the days, even the really shitty ones. She loves me for all of the things I can do, not all of the things I can’t.

Pregnant and chronically ill.

January 11, 2021 — 6 Comments

Some of you might know my story already. I married my husband in January 2020, we did it just the two of us and it was amazing, but since our wedding, lockdown and covid-19 have presented challenges, as it has for everyone, I’m not naïve enough to believe I’m alone with that and I know there are people everywhere that have it a lot worse than I do.

For me though, my health deteriorated again and baby making was not on the cards for us during lockdown…. or so we thought.

We had a baby in 2016, and she’s a healthy, sassy four year old, but her start in life was hard, on her and on me.

My pregnancy was not an enjoyable experience, I didn’t feel well for a single day of it. I was debilitated by hormonal migraines and nausea throughout, and by 16 weeks I was on crutches diagnosed with Symphis Pubis Dysfunction- a condition that causes your pelvic ligaments to become stretchy and relaxed, making walking painful, the same condition had me in a wheelchair by 25 weeks completely disabled. Later I had preeclampsia, I was admitted to hospital and after several attempts a doctor finally managed to break my waters, my contractions were then hormonally induced. I often refer to labour as the easy part after 9 months of what felt like torture, but honestly, none of it was easy for me.

I was taking antidepressants throughout my pregnancy to manage my mental health, and as a result my daughter was born with Neo Natal Abstinence Syndrome.

A condition where babies are born withdrawing from drugs they’re exposed to in utero. I wasn’t warned about this, I was told the medication I was taking was safe for my baby. Withdrawal was something I assumed only illicit drug using mothers experienced, I was wrong.

She was in NICU for 10 days and then she screamed for 15 hours a day for almost 10 months. I’ve since spoken to people who were on similar medicines and they’ve had different experiences so it’s important to note, I’m not trying to scaremonger here. I believe in looking after your mental health, but there is no dressing up that it was a very traumatic time for us. I think the consensus is not to force mums to stop medication that keeps them well, and of course this makes a lot of sense, I just wish I had been armed with facts sooner. I was peri and postnatally depressed, suicidal at times, and it hurt. It massively effected my pregnancy and birth experience, my early bond with my daughter, and I don’t consider it a positive time to reminisce about.

Given the story so far you’ll have probably read/heard me freak the fuck out at the thought of baby no 2. Yet here we are, we got bored in lockdown. We ran out of things to do, we also ran out of condoms. (That was a joke btw don’t @me) Shaun always wanted baby number two, and for the last year Ciara has asked for a sibling, but the truth is I never wanted to be pregnant again.

But I am, kind of by accident, almost certainly by fate.

In truth, I’m petrified. I haven’t acted happy about it, because I’m not about being pregnant, not really. I know how ungrateful that must sound, and let me be clear, I want the baby, I love being a mother, it’s my life’s biggest achievement. What I don’t love are the effects pregnancy has on my health and well-being.

I battle with guilt daily about my dislike for pregnancy, because I know I’m lucky to be able to birth children.

In an ideal world I would have weaned off all of my medication before conception this time, but I have a chronic illness, one that takes over much of my life. I am constantly met with new symptoms, making it impossible to imagine a life without medical intervention. You know when people say ‘you’re pregnant not ill‘ – Well in my case I’m both. Most of the time giving things up in pregnancy is par for the course but what about when you’re giving up drugs that have kept you well for years.

So, I’m withdrawing from several different types of medication at the moment, but I’m still not medication free and I might not ever be. It’s hard on me mentally, to know I could go through the same thing twice with NAS and having a baby in NICU.

In my dreams this pregnancy would be totally different, I’d be fitter and healthier, mentally stronger.

Unfortunately it hasn’t worked out that way. I’m not going to miraculously become well whilst living with a chronic illness, (chronic = ongoing) if anything it worsens as the years progress. I haven’t gotten better, and I feel as awful as I did in my first pregnancy if not worse, because there’s more to worry about – a lot more.

Midwives have classed my pregnancy as ‘high risk’ for preeclampsia and SPD again (I’m already struggling with this just 14 weeks in), and for diabetes, and that’s without accounting for my illnesses and the cretin that is Coronavirus robbing us all of joy.

I feel like somedays, even before pregnancy, I was barely hanging on to my ability to cope as a functional human being, do the fundamentals like washing and cooking meals, and yet I’m putting my body through this again and it already feels hard.

So what happens if I can’t look after a new baby?

What if they cry for 15 hours a day again and I have a breakdown?

What if Shaun leaves me for our skinny neighbour with muscular thighs and perky tits?

What if, what if, what if…..

It’s a redundant question, because what if I got ran over by a bus tomorrow?

I could cite an endless lists of what ifs, but to get hung up on them means I also need to think of the flip side, that being, what if things work out ok?

A pandemic is a big deal to the most hardened of us. So being pregnant with several illnesses and a penchant for going fucking mental at the first sign of a hormone shift feels ominous, but we’re doing it.

Baby 2.0 is coming!!

Aside from being terrified, feeling even more like shit than usual and eating everything in site, I’m optimistic, because despite ALL of that, this time I really do know it’s all worth it in the end.

I’m being seen by the maternal mental health team this time, an option I wasn’t (but definitely should have been) offered in my first pregnancy. And I have a plan for my physical health issues and medicines, it’s not a great plan, but it’s a plan that involves a lot of listening to my body.

On top of that, I have a family who have my back. We’re a team and we’ll get through it because we have each other and because we are lucky, and this, however hard it feels, is a blessing.

I wanted to write this, because there still feels much stigma around not loving every second of pregnancy and motherhood.

There is never a time when I feel unlucky in motherhood. But sometimes I feel unlucky in health, and pregnancy is hard on my health, it’s hard in general, as is parenting, at times, for all of us. And it’s ok to say that out loud.

Our journeys are different and we are forever a divided world on how to parent, because there’s no rule book and we all have our own unique way.

I wish I could flip a switch and love every tender second of motherhood, but my truth is, I don’t love pregnancy and my experience of newborns brings with it traumatic memories.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love being a mother, it just means it’s not straightforward. I didn’t want to announce my pregnancy without having explained how I feel because I’m sure there are other expectant mothers who feel similar to me that don’t have the confidence to say so aloud.

There’s so much pressure to say over and over again how much you love your kids, how blessed you are, and if god forbid you forget to mention that, obviously you don’t deserve to have them.

What I actually think is, all you can do in these times is YOUR best. There will always be people that are struggling for different reasons in every aspect of life.

When it comes to your baby though, I really feel, like your best is good enough and what works for you, what keeps you well and healthy is as important as protecting that newborn head.

We will delight in the birth of our second child as we did our first and we will get through the tough times because this time, we know they really don’t last forever and the long nights whiz by with painfully short years.

Motherhood is hands down the hardest, most rewarding job and my only goal is to be good at it (and to get to the end of this pregnancy with both of us in one piece)

NB: If you’re struggling with maternal mental health please visit Maternal Mental Health Alliance for support.

For fibromyalgia resources it’s FMAUK

And for migraines it’s Migraine Trust

Misophonia – What is it?

November 18, 2020 — Leave a comment

I am often overwhelmed by noise. It makes my skin prickle. I never used to feel like that. Not really. Then I had a kid who screamed for 15 hours a day every day for 9 months and I forgot what quiet felt like.

But that noise sensitivity did not end when she stopped screaming. I get increasing amounts of rage about noise. It could be listening to someone eat loudly whilst I’m trying to read. Having a husband who snores is a prime example of the rage I experience with repetitive sounds. If you have a husband/wife/partner who snores you will understand.

If Ciara is talking and someone else tries to speak to me, like I will literally tell them all to shut up and speak one at a time because I cannot cope with the pitchy sounds of their voices permeating my brain. Take zoom meetings for example, they boil my piss, because nobody knows when to talk and everyone talks at once. If I’m reading or working I have to do it in silence. If I’m eating and I can hear your chewing over mine I might tell you to stfu too.

It’s no surprise that the level of rage I feel increases during my luteal phase and sometimes I will literally (and ironically) scream for quiet when I’m due on my period. Or when I’m tired. Or when I’m in pain, and sometimes when I’m feeling perfectly ‘normal’ whatever that is.

Today I’ve been working from home and the dog, has been noisily gnawing at shit that isn’t food. My daughter came home from school with 25 tales about her day that she needed to tell me all at once, and she is currently downstairs learning letters and is speaking about 5 octaves too high in triumph of her achievements. I am seeking (unsuccessfully) the quiet my brain is desperate for in my room.

I know it’s a joke really, people with kids should know better than to get uptight about noise right? But I cannot zone out. My neighbours noisily run up and down their stairs every night between 9pm and 11pm I dunno what the fuck they’re up to but as soon as I hear it I cannot focus on anything else.

I know it’s not rational and I know I need help because losing my shit every time someone disrupts my quiet is not practical or productive. Give me silence and the sound of my own heart beating would probably still piss me off. So what is this random condition I seem to have acquired – I know what you’re thinking ‘another condition’ but ‘hear’ me out. This condition is called Misophonia, and it’s way more common than you might think.

The sound sensitivity is a real thing, and it’s most commonly found in females. Not everyone will experience the same reaction, for some it may be mild and for others complete extremes. We’ve established my default setting is extreme, as is my reaction.

It’s unknown what causes Misophonia and it isn’t suggested to be brought on by one specific event but can occur at anytime during our life cycle.

For me personally my go to emotive reaction to noise is always rage. It’s swiftly followed by the need to flee the scene. Sometimes I leave the culprit and take myself outside to gulp for air. No exaggeration. I once stood in a food queue with my husband (then boyfriend) and had to leave because the person in front of us did not stop talking in an animated pitch and I couldn’t for all my reasoning zone out. Sometimes it’s a background noise, sometimes it’s someone speaking and other times it’s a barely noticeable minuscule sound that my brain has sought out.

There isn’t much available in terms of treatment, definitely not in form of medication, but after research I’ve found there are some things I can do that might help. Like expose myself to specific sounds on repeat and try and convince my brain it doesn’t want to smash the house up in response.

I’ve decided to set myself some trials because let’s face it telling a customer to shut the fuck up for talking too loudly or too fast isn’t appropriate. Quieting your family when they have something to tell you, isn’t fair. And smashing the house up isn’t an affordable or constructive escapade. I’ll keep you informed with my findings but for now if you think you have misophonia check out this article on Web.md

Here we go again, sertraline.

October 27, 2020 — Leave a comment

When I recorded last months #PMDD diary I mentioned I’d started taking antidepressants again, but only during the luteal phase of my cycle. Unfortunately my symptoms have not improved greatly in the months since I decided I didn’t want to be here anymore (again).

When I say not improved, what I mean is not enough for me to do this on my own. So here I am again, where I’ve been for almost 20 years, trying to get a grip on my mental health with the help of antidepressants full time.

I am still here, so I’d be lying if I discredited their power in helping me get through dark days, but when you live on a cocktail of drugs for survival, it can make you feel like you’re never really moving forward, just treading water.

Antidepressants for breakfast, painkillers for lunch, more antidepressants for nerve pain at tea time, a side of beta blockers, followed by occasional benzos for supper.

I often feel like I’m failing by being so dependent on medication, but I weigh it up with my need to be able to function.

I’ve made many positive changes over the years for my mental health.

I very rarely drink alcohol anymore and have drank only 3 times in all of 2020. Though I feel no better for it really, I’ve not missed hangovers, and truthfully, I’m scared of it now.

I’m scared of doing ANYTHING that might trigger a migraine, a flare up, PEM. I’m scared of walking too far, or dancing too hard, or staying still too long. I’m scared of things I used to enjoy, and not enjoying, is depressing. I know I feel better if I don’t over plan, if I have a day in between activities and I know I feel better if I get enough sleep, but trying to implement that into a modern world where we have to work, and parent and show up for shit, is hard.

When I think about how hard it is I also try to think about how lucky I am.

Because if I don’t think about the good things I will be forced to believe there are no good things, and that is simply not true.

So how do I remind myself of everything that’s great when all I can see is what’s not? I look at my family. That’s it, I see them and I am reminded of my luck 💗 Though I don’t imagine they feel the same about being stuck with this bitch 🤣 This is your Tuesday night reminder, to TAKE YOUR MEDS💊