PMDD, A Partner's Perspective: A Response

I'm aware that I haven't posted anything on PMDD or PCOS for a while - which is the entire point of my blog. I want to re-focus a little bit and write about what I made this website for. I didn't have to look far for something to write about. I follow a lovely and informative blog by a woman named Liana - she writes at Living on a Prayer with PMDD. She posts a lot of articles and helpful information on PMDD. Most recently, she posted an article written by a man married to a woman with PMDD. You can find the article, "PMDD: A Partner's Perspective" here. To give you the gist of it, a man writes his own personal experience of being married to a woman with PMDD. (For a while, I have wanted Michael to do the same thing - and now I have even more reason to ask him to do so!)

This husband who wrote the article writes of torturous episodes every month where his wife becomes another person. Episodes of rage, brutal attacks on his character and their relationship, suicidal thoughts and threats, feeling hated and rejected every month. My heart breaks for this man and his wife. I know the pain of PMDD all too well. And Michael and I have absolutely had months like this, where for the 2 weeks before I get my period, I become another person. I am angry about everything, depressed about everything, and threaten to take my own life. Somehow Michael gets the brunt of it every time, even though he is not my husband. He is my safe person - and so I take it all out on him. But perhaps I have been lucky in that this is not every single month for us.

As I said, my heart breaks for this man, and I'm so sorry for his own painful experiences with PMDD. I'm also grateful for his vulnerability in sharing his experiences.

However, this article just made me feel sad because it just seemed so hopeless and helpless. He says near the end of the article:

"So what have I learned?
Probably the most important thing is to put up and shut up during the PMDD zone." 

And finally, he ends with:

"Do I feel hated and rejected each month? Yes, I do. Do I wish I wasn't? Absolutely.
Do I wish my partner didn't suffer PMDD? Yes. But she does."

Now this is what really breaks my heart. The truth is, the best thing that ever happened to me was Michael coming into my life and calling me out on the way I treated him when I was PMDDing. I knew I didn't have control over it, but during my "PMDD hangover" (realizing how awful you were when you were PMDDing) I was always so contrite, heart-broken, even sorrowful over the way I treated the man I love. So we started looking for answers. Michael pushed and pushed and made me call doctors and make appointments and do everything in my power to get this under control. He was not satisfied with putting up and shutting up and simply wishing that I didn't have PMDD.

I have met with so many doctors, so many OB/GYNs, tried many different medications, even had surgery to remove polyps they found in my uterus that were greatly affecting my cycle. And let me tell you, my life and PMDD have changed. Has my PMDD gone away? Absolutely not. I still struggle for those 2 weeks before my period.

HOWEVER, (yes, this is a big however)

My PMDD is so close to PMS now that I can barely tell the difference. And this is because of a few things.

• I take 37.5 mg of Effexor every single day, even when I am not PMDDing. This is also because I struggle with depression regardless of PMDD, but I know Effexor helps me during this time period.
• I take Vitamins B & D every single day. These help IMMENSELY with my energy and feeling like I have a clear mind to realize that I am PMDDing.
• I try to regulate my diet as much as possible - low blood sugar is a recipe for disaster with me.
• I sleep. As much as possible. Take naps. Sleep for 10 hours overnight. Exhaustion is the worst when you are PMDDing, and the more you sleep, the less you are awake to PMDD. When I'm having an episode and nothing can calm me down, I go right to bed now. No more conversation, no more fighting, no more tears. Just sleep.
• I went to OB/GYNs and fought for myself. It wasn't until my 3rd OB/GYN that they discovered the multiple masses in my uterus and got me into surgery right away. There could be other things going on besides PMDD that if undiagnosed or undiscovered could be causing much of the problem, or could potentially be dangerous in other ways.
• I was in therapy every. single. week. for almost a year. I don't feel the need to go anymore, but he is only a phone call away. Having someone else to cry to helped me so immensely. And it helped to be super-aware of my own behaviors, tendencies, and habits during my PMDD time. 
• I of course track my period and receive an email 2 weeks prior so I know to be ready to PMDD. The therapy and self-awareness helped me the most during these times, and Michael and I would work hard on stopping difficult conversations at the beginning instead of after the damage had been done. Michael has had to get tougher on me: when I start to beat him up during a PMDD episode, he will tell me very sternly to stop and that I need to go to bed. He's gotten so much better at this, because of course I don't do it happily. But I listen. I try.

I just got my period again for the first time after a few months of trying birth control and stopping at the end of March. More on that later. But the glory of it all was that I didn't PMDD. I PMSed, I cried, I struggled with a little bit of anxiety. But I did not rage, I did not think about suicide, I didn't get depressed, I didn't have any manic episodes. I just got a little sad once in a while. It is beautiful how far I have come. Thank GOD. 

There is hope. And there is help. That is why the hopelessness and helplessness of that article truly broke my heart. 

Fight for yourself. Fight for the right doctor, the right medication, the right dosage, the right therapist. 

Fight for your life.

It is worth it.

if grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

So yesterday, Michael and I got in a huge fight on my lunch break at work. I had already had an awful morning with my 8th grade and 6th grade classes, and he called me on my lunch break and gave me bad news. And I was so, so angry with him. We fought and fought and in all the fighting, I forgot to take my medication. I take all of my pills at 12:30 PM every day. But I was too busy fighting to remember. So I didn't. I took them at different times, I took them hours late, and my body got so confused. My brain got so confused. And I paid the price with a massive episode.

I think this episode was bad enough that maybe the details are too much for a blog post. I have no problems sharing, but my intention is not to throw a pity-party, to scare people, or to make people feel uncomfortable. So just know that it was a bad one, but I got through it.

So I'm okay today. Back on track and on time with my medication, reminded once and for all that my entire world needs to stop for 5 seconds every day at 12:30 PM so I can take my pills and be okay. I am okay.

So this is what I have to say today.

Life is so hard right now.

But yesterday, I played a game with my 1st graders that was so much fun I temporarily forgot that I was in the middle of a huge fight with my boyfriend. We walked back to their classroom singing a song we learned from Ghana, just because they loved it so much they couldn't stop singing it.

Yesterday, my co-workers listened to me as I shared with them how upset I was that my boyfriend and I were fighting. They listened and loved me so that I could get my head back on straight to teach my 1st graders.

Yesterday, my 5th graders saw that I was struggling and they behaved perfectly all afternoon. They saw my pain and they gave me the best gift that they could. Their quietness. Their calm. Their peace. Their joy.

Yesterday, my 8th graders needed a lot of discipline. But when I sat with them and spoke to them like adults, they listened. They really, really listened.

Yesterday, I danced like a lunatic in front of my choir class because I know it makes them giggle. Their giggles brighten up my day immensely.

Yesterday, my assistant at work listened and supported me like he always does. Oh, I am so grateful for that man and our friendship. I don't know what I would do without him. If only he was there all the time, instead of a few hours a week.

Yesterday, my roommate listened as I shared my heart and vented about my frustrating day. She listened and loved me and sent me a text message today encouraging me just the way I needed.

Yesterday, even though Michael and I got in a fight, as soon as I started having an episode (they start pretty much instantaneously), the fight was dropped and he loved me so hard and so deep and so true. He stayed on Skype with me all night, singing to me until I fell asleep. I love this man.

Yesterday, the only thing that brought me peace was Michael praying over me as I screamed and cried. I have not prayed in a long time. But in my madness and tears, I think I let God in for the first time in a long time.

So here I am, so tired today. But I see grace today. I have new eyes today. And I am trying to let God in and let His grace keep me afloat. Because His grace is everywhere. I just have to look for it.

And we are His portion, and He is our prize

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes

if His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest

 I don't have time to maintain these regrets

When I think about the way He loves us.

Oh, how He loves us.

my own currently

Linking up with Anna Kate and the girls at A Mama Collective like I do every Monday - only this time I'm not following format. So here it is. My "currently."

Oh, how I wish I could sit down and just write a beautiful and inspiring blog post today.

But, oh, I am struggling.

Struggling to see past my current reality. Struggling to feel hope. Struggling to feel like I'm not drowning. Struggling to breathe.

I have been unhappy for quite a while. Really unhappy. I will never stop living in gratitude, and choosing thanksgiving over wallowing in self-pity, but I am not doing well.

After my surgery in November, I was so hopeful that that was the answer. Once we realized my uterus was full of polyps and my hormones were going crazy, we removed them and life was going to be different. My PMDD would start to regulate itself - maybe I would only have one period a month instead of two and my moods would change!

And don't get me wrong - things have been better. I have not had a single manic episode since my surgery, I have not threatened or wanted to hurt myself, I have not blacked out and failed to remember my own words and behavior the night before. And for this I am beyond grateful. But I think maybe a part of me had hoped I would be all better. The joyful, radiant, vibrant girl that I know myself to be would magically return.

But I'm not her. At least not yet. I'm suffering, and I am unhappy, and I couldn't tell you why.

Maybe it's the fact that all I want is to be married and a mother and that is still months and years away. Maybe it's the fact that I really feel trapped in my job. Maybe it's the fact that I don't like my current living situation. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so alone where I live - no community, no friends - only my TV and my job. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so overworked and exhausted all. the. time.

And I am so far from God. I have isolated myself from my friends and from Him. In December, I asked Him for help for the first time in a long time. I lied on my bedroom floor night after night in hysterical tears, screaming at Him, begging for help. And it never came. So I stopped asking. And I'm having a really, really hard time asking again. I know I'm not supposed to do it alone, but when you ask and He just turns away, what then? What next?

Everyone has been saying this is my dark night of the soul. So I bought myself the book Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross. I am ready to pick it up, I know I need to. I have also been told repeatedly by priests in confession to ask for the intercession of Mother Teresa. I know this is not a coincidence. Every priest I go to talks to me about Mother Teresa. She didn't experience any consolation or sense of God's presence for most of her life - and she never stopped praying or doing God's work. I ask for her prayers constantly, but I am certainly no Mother Teresa. I feel so selfish, like such a failure - like I am being so childish, just wanting God to make me feel better. But I'm telling you,  I can't do this anymore.

My therapist today has suggested I see my doctor again and change my anti-depressants or change the dosage again. My mom wants me to see my OB/GYN again and go on birth control finally. Both scare me a little. Is all of this because I am imbalanced? Am I depressed? Or am I supposed to make life changes that will make me happy? Am I inherently unhappy and chemically not ok or is it life situations that are just making me feel unhappy? With mental illness, it's so hard sometimes to see the difference between true, genuine sadness versus your brain just keeping you from being happy and maintaining itself in a state of depression. It's so much to go through in my mind and my heart, that I just feel like sitting still. I don't even feel like walking forward anymore. How much can one girl take?

This week, I've gotten my first speeding ticket, I've gotten into my first car accident, and my debit card was reproduced and money was stolen from my bank account. It's almost funny... in a sad, ironic way. How am I supposed to look at all of that on top of everything else and just keep walking? I've been feeling like life is one big blizzard and I've been taking one step at a time with my head down, just making it through one step at a time. I'm just starting to feel like the blizzard is too big. The snow is too deep. I want to just stand here and freeze.

But I know myself.

I will not give up. Even if I want to. I don't think I know how to give up.

So I will keep walking. And I will keep trying to let God in, even if I don't know how to anymore.

moving forward

I've been so stuck on editing my past drafts that I haven't posted yet, that I haven't been able to move forward and keep writing. So I am going to let them go. Moving on.

A few months ago I posted about a few health problems I was worried about. I had two periods a month for three months. I was quite worried about what was going on with my body, but my PCP didn't seem to have any thoughts. I had many girlfriends send me info for OB/GYNs because I shared I didn't have one I liked. Unfortunately, none of them were near me or took my health insurance. So the search began.

And I found a doctor who has absolutely changed my life already.

My first appointment with him we sat down and discussed my history - which is really insane. It's really a lot. All my hormonal issues, depression, anxiety, etc.etc.etc. Now two periods a month. I asked him if he was overwhelmed, because let's face it, I wouldn't blame him. He looked me in the eye and said, "Of course not. This is what I love to do. Let's figure this out."

Wow.

I have never had a doctor say anything like that to me. My PCP is wonderful, and so is my therapist. But no one has looked at me and said we will find an answer. I felt such peace and even excitement - to think that after years, I truly think I found the doctor who is going to help me change my life.

Dr. Bender quickly decided I was going to need multiple blood tests and ultrasounds. We scheduled an appointment for that next week, and I was so anxious just to get it done.

My therapist, Dr. J, asked me if I was nervous at all about what I might find out. I told him, "The worst thing he could say to me is, 'I don't know.' I just want an answer. I'm ready for whatever it is."

So we did blood tests that confirmed my PCOS diagnosis, and then we did ultrasounds. Yep. My ovaries have cysts and follicles. No surprise there.

But then we sat down and needed to talk about the 1.3 cm mass he found. In my uterus. We needed to talk about my aunt who has uteran cancer right now. We needed to talk about my mom who is a breast cancer survivor. Okay. Let's talk.

"We need to get it out as soon as possible. You need surgery."

And all I felt was peace.

After begging and begging for an answer, I finally had one. I didn't care what it was.

"There's a 99% chance that it is only an endometrial polyp, but we won't know until we do pathology reports."

So we booked the surgery for two days before Thanksgiving. My amazing Michael flew out from Colorado to be with me. I wasn't scared, but he held my hand anyway and prayed over me and with me. I felt so safe and I knew God was in this, I knew He had led me here, and I knew no matter what happened, He is good and I will be okay.

A week later, we had a follow-up. Dr. B showed me photos of my uterus.

"You see that smooth spot?"

He pointed to the right side of the photo, a small area of smooth pink tissue. The rest of it was white and lumpy. I've never seen the inside of a uterus before - so I definitely didn't know what I was looking at.

"That's what your uterus is supposed to look like. You had more than one polyp. We removed every single one, including the tissue surrounding it. You had polyps in the tissue itself."

There were so many, I almost laughed. And then the only real question - of course -

"Were they benign?"
"Every single one was benign."

Praise God.

"Your period will hopefully regulate itself after this."
"What about my mood swings?"
"There's no way of knowing. Hopefully. We'll have to wait and see."

But the most beautiful part is, he and I had been discussing me going on birth control, just as a last-ditch attempt to regulate myself and find some stability. And I told him I think I want to hold off. I'd like to see what my body does on its own now that these have been removed. I have had so many OB/GYNs, and every single one of them would have said: "Fine. Suit yourself." He said: "I agree. Call me if you want to start them in a few months and we'll meet and talk about it."

Thank You, Jesus.  Thank You, Jesus, for an answer, for a doctor who is fighting for me. For a doctor who sees me and listens to me.

I am eager to see how my body will adjust now. But I am feeling a little glimmer of something I haven't felt in a long time.

Hope.

"Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in our hope of sharing the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

--Romans 5: 1-5

the feeling helpless days

last month, i started spotting a week (to the day) after my period. i didn't think much of it, until it lasted a week and it became heavy enough to be another light period. two periods in one month? not a fan. i figured it was no big deal.

until the same exact thing happened this month. two periods in one month two months in a row is a little disconcerting to me, especially with all my hormonal problems.

so i made an appointment to see my doctor (my PCP) to discuss this with him, as well as ask about increasing my dosage of anti-depressants. i'm on effexor 37.5 mg right now and my therapist and i agree that i might need to go up to 50-75 mg, because my current dosage, although in the beginning worked wonders, is now merely taking the edge off... and i need more than just taking the edge off.

so he agreed to put me on 75 mg, but didn't have any thoughts on my two periods-a-month problem, except to go see an OB/GYN. he followed that by saying, "except what are they going to do for you? probably just put you back on birth control."

and i just started crying. it feels sometimes like i'm just running in circles. i'm trying so, so hard to break the circle, to find something that works, to get better. and it just feels like i'm back at the beginning: the birth control pill.

i don't want to get into details today about why i don't want to go on the pill. what is important is that it is not an option for me, and to many doctors it is the only option, which is so incredibly frustrating. it makes me so sad and feel so helpless that so many doctors won't look beyond the easy route. they won't invest in you as a person and understand why you don't want to go the easy way. the truth is, the birth control pill is the easy way, but it is not the best way. the truth is, the pill is only a band-aid and i want more than that. i want answers. i want to help my body from the inside out. i want to get to the root of it and fix it. the pill will not do that. it will only make everything seem better on the outside. no thank you.

so my doctor upped my dosage of effexor, which i'll try in a few days when i run out of my current dosage. i'll keep you posted on how that goes.

but in 3 weeks i turn 26, and i no longer have health insurance. what then?

how does a girl with so many health problems survive with no health insurance? and have i mentioned i'm broke? so even if health care all of a sudden becomes affordable, i can't even afford groceries right now, let alone any kind of health insurance.

so i'll be insurance-less. my doctor and i are trying to see if i can get a 90-day supply of my medication so i'm covered for a while, but he doesn't know if i'll be able to. and he still wants me to see an OB/GYN regardless, which i know is what i should do. however, i don't have an OB out here. i had one in denver that i loved. she was catholic like me and believed we could find answers outside of the pill. i have yet to find one like her out here. and i only have 3 weeks.

i left the doctor feeling so helpless and scared.

i just want to get off the roller coaster for one day. i want answers, i want to be better, i want to feel like there is hope.

and i know there is. i know Jesus is my hope, and my goodness have i learned to lean on Him through all of this. thank God for that. i know God is pouring grace over me. i know He is.

it's just days like today, it's hard to feel it. that's just the reality of it.

Jesus, be my hope. be my help.

edit:

and right after i posted this, i read this blog:

when your life feels like a little bit of a puzzle

with this quotation:

"depression isn't a cut that needs a bandage -- it's a cancer that needs a battleplan."

thank you to ann voskamp for these words that made me at least feel understood today.

the days you remember you're still sick (or) behold, I make all things new

I've been on Effexor (an anti-depressant) for a little over 2 months now, and it really has done wonders for me. It's one of those things that I want to write about -- medication, I mean -- but today my purpose in writing is just sharing my current reality with you.

Last night, I went out to get drinks with two very dear friends. My friend, Mark, shared with me his story of depression. I already knew of his struggle, but last night's conversation went very deep and tears were shed and love and understanding and compassion were shared. It was a beautiful moment for both of us -- to remember that we are not alone. Someone understands. I don't want anyone to understand this sort of sorrow. This sort of feeling of being in prison, in hell, being tortured by your own body and mind. And I wish I was being over-dramatic. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Ever. So to hear my friend share in this hell with me felt both like my heart was breaking for him and like I was looking in a mirror. So I wept, and he wept. I wept out of empathy, hurt, heartbreak, love, compassion, and to be honest, self-pity. I am so sorry for myself sometimes. (I think there are moments where that's a good thing and moments where that's a horrible trap. But that's for another time.) He wept because of his own pain, his own heartache, and after feeling so broken and so alone, someone could finally look him in the eye and say "I understand." 

I was able to understand and love him last night, and encourage him that everything was going to be okay. There were so many nights where all I wanted to do was die and here I am, on medication that is working for me and feeling like a healthier version of myself.

And then today I lost it.

There are days when I just feel like an utter failure. A total, complete failure. I want so badly to be "better". I want to be healthy, to be well, to be able to deal with life like a "normal" person. To be able to multi-task. Or remember things. Or be able to focus on more than one thing at time. To be able to not get overwhelmed to the point of wanting to die. I want to be a great girlfriend, the girlfriend who can be the encouraging, beautiful, supportive, gracious woman who I believe my boyfriend deserves. I catch glimpses of her sometimes. But when I am sick, when I am so overwhelmed and suffocated by lies and grief and sadness, I can't see her anymore.

Today I couldn't see her.

After a beautiful night where I felt so sure, so grace-filled, so whole, so ready to encourage my friend and love him through the darkness, there I was in the darkness myself once again, not 12 hours later.

I just moved to another city after spending the last 4 months with my parents and siblings in order to let my heart heal in a safe place. I am so scared to not come home to my sweet brother every single night. I am so scared to spend so much time alone. Alone with my own thoughts, my lies, my fears. Alone with my TV, the thing I cling to so desperately to not get inundated with darkness sometimes.

I just started a new job. I am so scared to fail. I am scared of hating it. I am scared of doing everything wrong. I am scared of everyone hating me. I am scared of not being good enough.

My best friend is getting married, and I am her Maid of Honor. Michael's roommate is getting married, and Michael and I are doing the music for the wedding. My aunt is sick with cancer and we are going back east to go to both weddings and visit her and my family. I have so much to do to prepare for all of these things that it feels impossible.

Everything just feels impossible.

And I just crumbled. I cried and cried until there were at least 30 crumpled up Kleenex next to my bed. And Michael stayed on Skype with me and told me to look at him and told me everything is going to be okay. I didn't believe him. I am done with the episode now and I can look at it and know everything is going to be okay. Everything is always going to be okay.

But when you're in an episode and the world is spinning and your head wants to explode and your body just aches to not feel so desperately sad -- you just don't believe that it will be okay.

There is a depression, a sadness, that is so physically painful that it actually feels unbearable. These are the moments that I feel like dying. These are the moments when I think I legitimately can't handle feeling like this -- it is too big, too much, for my body.

And I cry and cry, just hoping that the tears will get out of my body and take the sadness with them.

And I just feel like I failed. I was doing so well. I was so happy. I was so stable. And here I am, having an episode again. I'm still sick.

The truth is that I will always be sick. I have struggled with depression for 10 years and this will be a battle I will fight for the rest of my life. And I can kick and scream and bang on the walls of the prison cell.

Or I can let it be. And I can rest.

I know that Jesus is near me. I know He is carrying me. I know that this is my cross for a reason.

It is so that I can share my heart. So that I can weep with the broken-hearted. So that I can hold someone's hand and look them in the eye and say "I understand" and mean it, from the bottom of my aching heart. So that I can pray for people who are depressed with an earnest heart. So that I can encourage people who have lost faith to pray. So that I can teach people to understand mental illness better. So that I can love more fully, more deeply, more genuinely. So that I can experience joy in a way that most people could never understand. So that I can, hopefully, glorify God in my suffering.

All I want is to love Him and to be loved by Him. I can kick and scream and cry and stay in this prison and wallow in self-pity. Or I can let Him come into this prison with me and hold me.

I had a vision in April when I first decided to move home. It was a vision of myself - my whole body was like shattered glass, big shards of glass that would fit together like a puzzle to make up my body. But the pieces were all separated an inch away from each other. And from the inside of this glass was this huge light -- a light bursting from the inside out, pouring through these shards of glass and shining bright through all the brokenness.

That is who I long to be. Broken in body, but bursting with light in spirit.

My body will always be sick. But my soul will rejoice in the Lord, knowing that He has blessed me with an illness that brings me closer to Him. It is the way He makes me holy if I let Him. It is the way He loves me the most when I let Him. It is the way I can glorify Him best by His grace.

And so my soul shall rest in the Lord, knowing that in Him there is peace. There is joy. There is love. There is comfort. There is light.

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and I heard a great voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; and he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.

And he who sat upon the throne said, 'Behold, I make all things new.' Also he said, 'Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.' And he said to me, 'It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water without price from the fountain of the water of life. 

...And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. 

And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine upon it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb."

--Revelation 21