I’m not stabbing people. I think it means I’ve grown.

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I was going to write about the incredible trip with my best friends to Eureka Springs a few weeks ago — which was awesome. But it was a 4 day trip and that’s a lot of work and I just don’t feel like it, but I did start it. Then I was going to write about politics because I *totally* solved the problem of North Korea (you’re welcome, world).  But I wrote about half of it and realized that it was just making me mad, so I checked my email and found a company telling me how I could advertise for them (for free) because that’s apparently a thing they feel entitled to now and then I popped my knee and decided I hate everything and everything is stabby.

And then I remembered that I lose my mind sometimes, so I checked my calendar and, yeah, I’m crazy right now.

I was Dx’d with PMDD a few years ago and if anyone even hints that it’s PMS, I will find you and slap you, so shut up.  It is NOT PMS.  PMS is maybe you feel cranky and bloated and you have cramps and it sucks enough. PMDD means you lose your damn mind.

Seriously. I already knew I was crazy because I’ve dealt with depression most of my life.  But then I started taking medication for that and I was substantially less prone to kill myself most days.  But for a few weeks out of every month, I would lose my grip on rational thought, cry or rage (or both) over everything, including microwave directions, become convinced that life was absolutely HOPELESS and anyone who said differently was a liar and I hated them.

It was kind of like having the worst years of being a teen compressed and shoved into my brain through a convenient opening for maximum crazy.

It made me think I was beyond help because I was taking the medication for depression and it obviously wasn’t working, except when it did, but that didn’t count because it wasn’t working now. (If that made sense to you, you should probably see a psychiatrist.) Once I could convey that yes, I was taking my meds, but I was still flipping out every month, I had a doctor ask me if I’d heard about PMDD and I said I thought maybe it was something in one of those commercials that I never paid attention to because it made me homicidal.  She said that yeah, we should probably treat this before I became a felon.

So we did. And for the last couple of years, the meds I take mean that I experience something less like “batshit insanity” and something more like what I imagine bad PMS must be, what with the cramps and bloating and cranky-kind-of-emotional, but I don’t automatically assume that I’m responding absolutely logically and that the best thing for everybody is for me to die so the world can go on.

And while I’m writing this rather tongue-in-cheek, it’s not a tongue-in-cheek kind of topic.  PMDD is actually really serious. (And yeah, I’m dropping the smartass for a minute to say this).  If you find yourself flipping out and nothing in the world makes sense anymore but it all makes you angry or depressed, seek help. It can get better.

And maybe, some day, you can not stab people too.  We’ll not stab people in solidarity. But call me after you’re drugged because I don’t want to be that last person you stab before treatment. I love you, but there are limits. Also, if you want to read something by someone who isn’t currently blogging weird stuff and tweeting irrational hatred for stupid marketing moves by major corporations, you can click here. I hear these people have medical training and stuff. Show offs.

And here’s a picture to take your mind of stabbing things:

If this makes you feel stabby and you're not female, you might be a sociopath. Either way, I suggest you ask a professional. I'm a blogger. They're not the same.

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2 responses »

  1. I really relate to what you’re saying. I have dysthemia (chronic low-level depression), and it can really affect my thought patterns. I have to watch out for that on a daily basis.

    • Yeah, even now, years down the road there are still days when I have to remind myself: Yes, today sucks. But it sucks less than it would if I weren’t medicated and the occasional sucky day doesn’t mean that the meds aren’t working. Thanks for commenting; your comment originally got caught in the spam filter, but I think it’s hard to make a comment about depression/medication that doesn’t trip at least half of all internet spam filters. ^_^

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