Parenting with PMDD

So. Parenting is hard. You know what else is hard? Getting a period. Trying not to take that shit out on your spouse and your kids because it’s not their fault. Trying to be a normal human being during this time is sometimes a challenge.

I have PMDD. It is said to be a severe extension of PMS. It can sometimes be disabling. So as I understand most women have mood swings and get irrational for a few days under normal circumstances.

I’ll walk you through it, okay? This PMDD thing is rough. It’s not pretty. At some point, usually more than a week before actually getting a period, I start getting a headache. I pretty much always have a headache but this headache is hell. Alongside of that headache I am bone tired. I have no energy. I have no patience. I have no desire to go on with my daily tasks and something as simple as washing dishes can bring tears to my eyes. Irritable and irrational and so super sensitive. Everything makes me cry. Did I mention the headache?

The demands of children are tough. PMDD is basically a severely depressed state in which I have to truck the fuck on to ensure my little people are given what they are asking for 537299 times a day. Changing diapers. Getting fresh water because there is a crumb in their cup. Trying to stay on top of the house. Trying to make sure the chickens have fresh water so they don’t kill each other and food so again they don’t kill each other. Laundry. Dishes. More dishes. Snacks and more snacks and fighting about snacks and more water because there’s another crumb. Dogs in my face who need water or to go out or to just pant. Trying to get socks on a kid who currently hates them. Trying to get a kid down for a nap who is overtired and takes too long to settle and now is crying because she wants to sleep but the baby is screaming. Trying not to break because the baby is screaming. Trying not to break because I haven’t been able to eat all day and I’m ravenous. Trying not to break because the baby wants to nurse every hour because on top of all of the emotions the supply drops and he’s fucking growing and needs his nourishment. Then I have to make dinner which everyone will complain about and then I will stuff my face and wonder why everyone hates me. While I try not to cry.

You know what helps PMDD? Birth Control! How simple. Except it’s not. Because anxiety. Constant fucking anxiety. Birth control is also evil.

So. PMDD sufferers. I feel you. This shit sucks. I just want to be a good mom and a good wife and a good person. Once the PMDD is done with being an asshole the cramps and other fun things start. You know how many weeks are in a month? I spend half of that in a rut because of something I can’t take control of.

It’s all too much. People always think taking a break is what I need but I can’t escape it. It’s in my head, my heart, my soul. It’s who I am. I can’t escape myself. I want to during those times but it’s impossible. I know the suggestion is always meant with my wellbeing in mind. But my being isn’t well and no amount of time away from my family will fix that.

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