PMS or PMDD?

A banana skin just got a thrashing within an inch of its life as it landed in the recycling bin. “Stupid fucking banana skin” I mumble under my breath as I go to pick it up and launch in the correct bin (after slapping it against the wall a couple of times first). All of a sudden, I’m alerted to the fact that my period is well on the way and it was time to prepare. 

From a young age even pre childbirth, I’ve always struggled with my periods. I remember suffering from Aura type migraines and excruciating abdominal pain when I was at secondary school leading me to miss out on fun social activities like smoking bongs and shoplifting keyrings and scrunchies from Claire’s accessories. Bummer. I cursed myself and thought there was something wrong with me for being that friend who kept bailing all the time. none of my friends had these issues so Why me? 

More on “Why me” in my next post.

I’m 101percent sure I am a sufferer of PMDD (Premenstrual dysphoric disorder) however when I once mentioned this to a nurse at my local health clinic she looked at me like I’d got two tits on my head. See below for symptoms. 

They all seem pretty usual for anybody to experience before a period don’t they, except all are felt in the most extreme ways. The hot flashes are what led me to start looking for a second opinion (well, that was before corona took hold)

I can lose my shit over the tiniest things ranging from yellow fruits not landing in the bin properly to complete overreaction towards my other half asking me if I happen to know where his work clothes are. “AM I JUST A SLAVE TO YOU IN THIS HOUSE YOU FAT BASTARD?!” followed by the “escape” suitcase being brought down (again) from on top of the wardrobe and me throwing my things in angrily with no real plan of action of where I’m going or what the hell I’m doing really. 

Complete psychopath.

Originally I always put these mood swings down to the personality disorder but then I began tracking my periods using the “FLO” app (highly recommend) and quickly realised that the extreme rage and hot flashes tend to be viler the week before I’m on. They have been that extreme in the past that I’ve had to go and stay in a nearby hotel for a couple of nights for my poor partner and daughters verbal safety. Its bad guys. 

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It’s sad to me that it is not as widely recognised by health care professionals as it should be. The nurse I saw that said that I must mean PMS as she’d not heard of PMDD before. BIG sigh and eye-roll. 

Even without any other mental health issues, PMDD alone can cause severe distress to yourself and others around you. My closest run-ins with attempted suicide have been around the time I was due on and this is a problem. It is so important to SPEAK UP if you feel like your experiencing something more than just one would expect from PMS. If you wake up crying in the middle of the night wanting to do yourself in but have no idea why then somethings not right huns.

Speak up. Get a second opinion and follow my journey getting the correct diagnosis because I know it is in there somewhere! jeez, being a woman is hard sometimes.

Top tip – One natural remedy that can help to lessen the physical pain of periods is Evening Primrose oil.

I take this daily throughout the month and although it doesn’t completely cure the symptoms it does seem to calm the period demon ever so slightly, not to mention the silky smooth skin I now seem to have! winner winner chicken dinner I say.

Rita wants a bong.

I’m trying to work out whether my newest obsession with wanting to become a cannabis smoking hippy is just a phase or the start of a mid-life crisis? Hear me out.

For the past year, whilst mostly being in a happy, stable place I have a little naughty voice in the back of my head who is bored out of her mind and getting little to no stimulation. We’ll call her Rita. Rita Rush.

Poor little Rita lives in my brain riding the wave of life quietly satisfied by my regular poor decision making and erratic or risky behaviour but I’ve really backhanded her down lately. Sensible money decisions, not wanting to run off from my whole family and start a new life with the random man that winked at me in his van and even refraining from putting my newest business idea of starting “SHAMPOODLES” mobile dog groomers, to one side.

I just feel like I want to get high. Not like smacked off my tits high or ruin my life high but high enough to relax and think a little bit more freely.
You know the kind of high I mean right?

Back in my teenage years I probably gave myself a bit of brain damage from the number of bongs I’d puffed away on at such a young age. It all started when one of my more rowdy school friends asked me for a sleepover at hers and of course, being the attention-seeking, rebellious kid that I was, I had my bag packed before she even finished the sentence. Anyway, the long story short is that i puffed away on a buddha shaped bong in the family living room with my friend, her mum and brother like it was as normal as passing a Toblerone around. That was the start for me at the tender age of 13.
I continued smoking weed until I was about 17 and haven’t touched anything since. I never did any other drugs other than the one time in a bar when I dropped an “E” but in hindsight, I’m voting it was an out of date smint as all it did was make me drool and fall over a lot.

I was around drugs a lot growing up but never tempted, which is quite a feat considering my personality traits. I can only imagine my self-control in this area was because I was mainly too pissed to feel any need to add on to it. But my teenage drinking is a whole other post.
So Rita’s getting a little agitated, she needs some adrenaline-fuelled action and I can tell I’ve been keeping it from her too long.

So my question is.

Do I let her have a mini victory by getting a little pot to quieten Rita down (totally illegal in the UK by the way. BOOO) or do I ignore her in the hope she doesn’t make me regret it?
This is possibly the longest space of time I’ve been without having some sort of dramatic meltdown crescendo after a slowly built-up shower of shit. The longest I’ve not had the suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe with my “escape clothes” in and also the longest I’ve not gambled for. Its almost as if Rita knows I’m doing well and she can’t handle it.

That Bitch.

Social Anxiety or living your best life?

Somebody said to me the other day, “Jaz, it must be quite difficult for you at the moment going through all of this with a bit of a mental brain” (Her words, not mine). Thanks for the concern, hun, but you would be mistaken. The biggest excuse I ever used to get out of something was ignoring the whole situation, turning my phone on silent, and pretending I didn’t get the message. Suddenly, I don’t need to do that because nobody is doing anything! Covid-19 seems to have taken away all the stresses of stressing over social outings. Now, Covid-19 can be the reason for not letting somebody come into your house when it is not as clean as you would like and the reason you can just say NO to any type of social gathering. It can also be a fantastic excuse to sit consuming chocolatey treats and ..well, yourself. As great as it is, the amount of occasions that friends and family have mentioned all meeting up once all of ‘this is over is alarming. I’m actually preparing myself for accidentally-on-purpose lobbing my phone in the canal, so I don’t have to commit to such outings and socialisation.

Don’t get me wrong, when I’m in the mood for it, I am the life and soul! I’m like Pringles; once you pop, you just can’t stop! Get me in a room of 10 or more, and I’m a bloody jack-in-a-box. I irritate my partner because I can’t and won’t sit still. Does anybody need any help? Do I need the toilet? What’s in that room over there? It is bloody exhausting.

I once went on a day trip to London with my friend and her newborn son. She was slightly apprehensive understandably about tackling the tube with a pushchair and how the day would go in general. I took complete control. We were on and off that central line like shit off a stick. We walked miles, we talked for miles! it really was a fantastic, busy, chaotic but brilliant day out… I then didn’t leave the house for two whole days. I was overwhelmed and emotional from all the stimulation of the day before, like that of an overstimulated newborn. I could barely even parent that day. This is quite a typical scenario, and also why I turn down so many social invitations even if I want to go. I have to consider what I’m doing for the days after in case the day of fun puts me out of service… like a woozy, mental hangover without any alcohol.

I have a small group of friends who I seem to socialise more with as they understand my situation and laugh at me when I just HAVE to get home at 10 pm. They accept I don’t like to drink too much and just let me be me, however odd I am! I must say, though, it took me a long time to get to this point with people as I’m naturally a “people pleaser,” which has definitely got me into some sticky situations in the past.

So to summerise, Covid-19 has done me a massive favour. What about you?