TWs: depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, body dysmorphia
I don’t think I’ve mentioned before that I have premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD). In essence, it is like PMS on steroids. For me, it starts when I ovulate and then builds to a miserable crescendo right before the start of my next period. Typically, about two weeks later. PMDD can be debilitating. It can even make a person suicidal. For me, I become hyper-sensitive, anxious, and above all, ANGRY. I am not good at expressing anger, it generally just makes me cry. But when it’s PMDD rage, I seethe.
I was diagnosed with PMDD in 2020. I had previously had diagnoses of depression and anxiety. I was 15 the first time I was prescribed a benzodiazepine (temazepam/Restoril). My moods have always been cyclical, and worse at certain times of the year – there is certainly some element of seasonal affective disorder at play here, too. For a time, I wondered whether I was bipolar. My mood swings were so dramatic, and so frequent. Certain forms of birth control exacerbated things enormously, including one that lived inside my body for a full six years.
Neither I, nor my doctors or therapists, ever linked my cyclical mood pattern to my menstrual cycle. Until three years ago, when I heard about PMDD. The more I read, the more I thought ‘this is what is happening to me’. I spoke to my doctor, explained the patterns I’ve seen, he agreed. He prescribed Lexapro (escitalopram) and instructed me to take it only from the day I ovulate, until the day I start my next period.
The first month that I took it, it was like night and day. I didn’t feel any of my usual low mood, or rage. I skipped through that month with a spring in my step and a song in my heart.
Unfortunately, I am terribly non-compliant when it comes to taking medications. I rarely remember to take anything unless I’m actively suffering. I almost never complete a full course of antibiotics. I’m terrible. And this month was no exception.
Another fun fact about my menstrual cycle, is that traveling to and from England completely fucks it up. Every. Single. Time. As of right now, my period is 12 days late. Which means 12 more days of PMDD building up than usual. Which means I am an absolute mess. So much fun. Oh, and no, I’m not pregnant.
A friend invited me on a night out this past Friday. When I answered her phone call I was at work, and in a good mood. The work day was almost over, it had been a fairly easy day, I felt pretty good. I told her yes, I would go out. But she didn’t have a plan. She wanted to go out in Tulsa, but I live 40 minutes from there. How would we get there and back? I had an early dentist appointment the next day, how late would we be out? Did we want to go to Tulsa or should we just go to the dive bar here in town? What time should we go? Anxiety started to kick in. I need a plan.
I began to get ready, but the thought of washing, drying, and styling my hair and then applying makeup was exhausting. I didn’t know what to wear. I didn’t like my body that day. I didn’t feel comfortable in my skin. No matter what I wore, I would just look like a big shapeless lump. I am bloated and uncomfortable and have cramps. My skin is bad. I’m tired. Occasionally, going out into the world as a fat person does require some courage. And I was tapped out.
My husband suggested I not worry about fixing myself up, just go as I am. He made the mistake of saying that it was okay if I just went out with friends and didn’t try to pick up a guy. RAGE. I have never picked up a guy in a bar, I don’t try to look nice for guys, I do it because it makes me feel good! I told him, as calmly as I could manage. I wanted to throw things. Break things. Scream. But I didn’t, I never do.
I became overwhelmed, I got into bed and pulled the covers up over my head. I texted my friend that I wasn’t going, I was staying home. She pleaded, I said no. She asked if she could come over so I could do her makeup. RAGE. How dare she! When did I ever say I would do that?! Now I know why she wanted me to go out, she just wants me to do things for her. Probably expects me to buy her drinks too! I ranted, unreasonably, to my husband.
I told her no. And then ignored my phone when she called and texted. I stayed in my duvet cocoon for hours. Eventually getting up to eat some crumpets, topped with delicious cheese, kindly sent to me by my friend Bill in Wisconsin, and watched some junk on TV. I fell asleep on the couch, not wanting to sleep in the bed with my husband, still angry with him for his thoughtless and sexist comment earlier.
Yesterday was better. Today is better. I’m still waiting for my period to hurry up and start, but I’m coping. Mostly by snuggling on the couch with my dogs, and eating chocolate creme pie and Pringles. Watching Japanese Tales of the Macabre on Netflix. If it works, it works.
Fat and Slutty 