Pre-Menstrual What??? I'm Only One Pill Away From Crazy!

I don't know how many people in the world suffer from depression at any given point in time . . . I don't think anyone really knows.  Sure, scientists can throw statistical calculations out there and come up with an estimated number of people who are depressed, but when it really comes down to it, it is still a guess.  I am one of those statistics and learning to live with depression is a life-long quest that at times provides me with humorous outcomes and other times dark ones.

For years I suffered from "migraines" that made any little noise make my head feel like it would explode and even small amounts of light would burn through my eyes and pierce my brain like an ice pick. I put the word migraines in quotes because that was what my doctor diagnosed me with when I told him about the issues I was having with being angry and unhappy, how I would yell at my husband and children for stupid reasons, cry because I was overwhelmed, and get headaches that made me vomit.  He also diagnosed me as being under stress - at the time I had two very demanding jobs, two young children, a husband, and lots of bills to pay (like most of the population). I think it was easier for my doctor to focus on the words "overwhelmed" and "headaches" and tie all of my issues to stress induced  "migraines".  I did suffer from migraines and I did have stress, however, the other symptoms were kind of ignored and I didn't pursue further treatment because I now had a diagnosis.  I had decided in my own mind that the stress and migraines were the cause of all my other symptoms just like my doctor thought.  It was easy enough to think this way because my symptoms were not constant.  They would come and go, usually coincided with my migraines.

During the "bad" days, I hated my husband and resented my children.  I felt like I did everything and they all just wanted me around to be their maid.  I wanted to quit my job and move far away because I just knew life would be better somewhere else. Besides, nobody appreciated anything I did and nobody would miss me anyway.  I became over sensitive about the most menial issues and would scream like a banshee at my family over stupid things like "walking too loud".  Seriously? Who walks too loud? I cried at television commercials, I became more compulsive than normal, and I ate . . . boy, did I eat!  I could sit down and consume thousands of calories in one sitting - I would justify it by telling myself that nobody cared if I got fat and died.  I ate because at the time the tastes and textures running across my tongue provided a euphoric feeling that made me forget about every other issue that plagued me. I had thoughts of killing myself and came up with multiple plans that could be carried out at any time - I thank God that my base religious upbringing had me believing suicide was sin that resulted in a direct path to Hell. That alone is the only reason I am here to writing this today.

Then, the "bad" days would just disappear like someone turned off a switch and life was good again . . . for a while.

Eventually I became convinced I was truly crazy and that I was turning into (gasp) my mother. It really wasn't too far fetched to believe I was going crazy - I have quite an extensive family history of mental illness and the crazy train had finally stopped at my house.  At the time I didn't know that I suffered from a specific form of depression and one day God, fate, or something stepped in and changed my life path.

My doctor is a very busy General Practitioner and often patients need to call and schedule a couple months in advance to get an appointment.  I tried to schedule my yearly physical in advance but at the time the receptionist stated my doctor's new schedule wasn't available yet. I was asked to call back in a few weeks to schedule my appointment.  "Sure, I could do that".  So, four weeks later I called back to schedule my physical and was told that there were no openings until two months later than what I needed.  What? "I was calling two months before I actually needed to be seen and had to wait over four months?"  Whatever!  I was upset (I think I was having a migraine) and after doing some Internet research I decided to schedule an appointment with a Gynecologist at another branch of the clinic. I also thought that getting another opinion about a couple "female" things would be good.

The day of my appointment came and Dr. Anderson came in to the exam room and introduced herself.  Since I was a new patient and it was my first appointment with her she wanted to get a full history before the physical assessment.  I don't recall what question caused the dam to break while we were discussing my history, but all of a sudden the little Dutch boy pulled his finger out of the hole in the dam - words and emotions just started gushing out of me.  I sat there with tears streaming down my face, baring my soul to this doctor who sat calmly listening to me and asking the occasional question to draw more information out of me. I told her about the years of mental anguish, how I thought I was going crazy, and how sometimes I hated my life and other times I loved it.  I talked about how crappy I sometimes treated others but at the time I didn't care or couldn't seem to stop myself.  I explained how the guilt and shame associated with all of this made me have thoughts of wanting to die so I wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore. Then, after some time and many questions later she said these magic words - "You are not crazy, based on the information you provided, you have a disorder called pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), and we have medicine that can help you".  She finished the physical to make sure there was nothing else going on and then we talked more about PMDD and medication used to treat it. I left the office that day with something that had been missing in my life for a long time - HOPE!

As it turns out, the medication used to treat PMDD is taken based on a woman's menstrual cycle and the medication is taken for two weeks on and two weeks off (give or take some tweaking).  The treatment meant I had to track my monthly cycle, but calendars and phone apps helped with that process.  I started taking the medication right away and it worked within days. I felt like a miracle had happened in my life.  I was happy again, I didn't hate everyone, I loved my husband and children, I enjoyed my job, and life was good again.  My husband told me one day, "I feel like I have my wife back again".  He may have felt like he had his wife back, but I felt like I had my life back. I am so grateful that circumstances beyond my control led me down a path that allowed me to be back in control . . . of my life.

If you or anyone you know can relate to my story, I encourage you to talk with your doctor.  PMDD is a very real illness and often gets missed for a variety of reasons. If you want to know more about PMDD, the Mayo Clinic has information on its website: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/premenstrual-syndrome/expert-answers/pmdd/faq-20058315