A BAD PERIOD
One PMDD sufferer shares the mental toll of living with this condition
There used to be a clichéd refrain from family members whenever I had a meltdown: ‘Are you due on?’ But I wasn’t just snappy or bursting into tears over silly things, like so many of us do because of PMS. Instead, for over a decade, I suffered with depression, anxiety and disordered eating behaviour; I was completely out of control of my own life – no one seriously believed it was my period behind the wheel.
I’d always been a happy child, surrounded by a loving family. I was 12 when I started waking up with a dark cloud over my head and feelings of panic and foreboding, and I began to self-harm at 13. Then there were the physical symptoms: headaches, insomnia and lethargy that made my bones feel like they were made of concrete. My teenage years were dominated by a feeling of worthlessness. I was terrified of failure – my A-levels filled me with such extreme anxiety, I’d have panic attacks just thinking about them and would run out of class, hyperventilating. I visited doctor after doctor and was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome, then anxiety, depression and, eventually, anorexia – I was looking for control wherever I could find it.
When I got a place at the University of Southampton to study physiotherapy, I saw it as an escape. Although my problems weren’t rooted in my home life as such, I hoped that if I moved away, they might go away, too. But despite making friends and forcing myself to go to parties, I sank deeper into the darkness. One day, I found myself sitting on a park bench, deliberately overdosing. I didn’t want to die – I just wanted a break from the feelings of anxiety and worthlessness that plagued me. Overdosing became a regular pattern and eventually I was put under observation by the NHS crisis team, but this only made me more secretive, hiding it from those around me. Throughout my final year, I was admitted to hospital for overdosing another three times.
A few years after I graduated, my doctor noticed something during a routine visit: I always seemed to be at my worst the day before my period was due. She thought I could have a condition called premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD). A severe form of PMS, symptoms can include extreme anxiety, psychosis, depression and, at worst, wanting to harm yourself and others. It can be so debilitating that your work, social life and relationships may become impossible to manage. The cause isn’t yet clear, but it’s thought to affect 5.5% of women, driving around 30% of sufferers to attempt suicide.
At first, I thought the idea was silly: surely there was no way something as ordinary as a period could have such an impact. But over the years, I’d been tracking my menstrual cycle on a calendar and writing about my mental health on a blog. When I looked at the two side by side, I was floored: every time my period was due, my mental health plummeted. In 2016, aged 26, I was diagnosed with PMDD.
My doctor put me on a temporary chemically induced menopause, with replacement oestrogen to maintain my normal levels. This simulated what life would be like if I had a hysterectomy and my body stopped naturally producing oestrogen and progesterone. It was the
‘I was completely out of control of my own life, and no one knew why’
best three months of my life. I didn’t have a single down day. But this treatment regime wasn’t a long-term solution, so doctors told me I should consider having a full hysterectomy, removing my uterus, ovaries and fallopian tubes. The thought of not being able to have my own child was painful, but nothing compared to the misery PMDD caused me. After weighing up the options with my family and professionals, I decided to go through with it and the hysterectomy was booked for 7 May 2019. I woke up feeling strong that day, even though a seed of doubt niggled: what if it didn’t make a difference?
Of course, the hysterectomy can’t erase the hurt I’ve experienced. But it’s not an exaggeration to say that the surgery set me free – every single one of my PMDD symptoms has vanished. I no longer struggle with disordered eating and I haven’t selfharmed since my surgery. I’ll have hormone-replacement therapy for life, but it’s a small price to pay. Many women who suffer from PMDD take their own lives. I could have been one of them but, instead, I have my life back.