The second I heard the huge crash coming from my 13-year-old daughter’s room, I ran upstairs with my heart thumping out of my chest. When I swung open the door to Avianna’s bedroom, I found her sobbing on the floor, clutching her hand. Glancing at the wall, I saw the plasterboard had been ripped apart with sudden force. It was clear she’d put her fist straight through it.
As I begged her to tell me what happened, my sweet little girl just looked up at me with tear-soaked eyes. She told me she was angry – and she had no idea why. It was then that my heart sank. I could have been looking at myself 30 years earlier. Avianna may not have understood why her emotions were doing this, but I certainly did. I gently asked her if she was on her period. When she confirmed she was, I felt tears spring to my eyes. I have suffered from Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) since I was a teenager.
It’s a condition that has left me on the verge of suicide multiple times. For two weeks a month, just before, during and after my period, for every month of every year, my world effectively ended as I plummeted into a hole so dark, I was convinced there was no way out.
It was my biggest fear that my daughter would one day inherit this evil curse, and yet here she was. Curled up in a ball, a fist imprinted in her wall, sobbing, all because of her menstrual cycle. I felt horrendously guilty. This was the first time she’d really acted out so violently. It raised alarm bells straight away.
It all started when I got my first period at the age of 14. From that moment on, my life spiralled into a tumultuous journey filled with mood swings and angry outbursts.
Every month I would plan my own death. I wanted to die because the emotional pain was so terrible. While driving, I would feel an overwhelming urge to crash my car, even closing my eyes for a moment, battling with the struggle of just being alive and alone in my own mind; thoughts of hanging myself and ending the darkness loomed over me.
I remember once being a split second away from swerving into a tree. I was able to snap out of the trance quickly when I almost lost control of the car, feeling both exhilarated and terrified by what could have happened.
Months went by as I searched for life insurance that would provide for my children, Avianna and Alex, nine, even in the event of suicide. I wanted to ensure they would be taken care of, potentially receiving a significant sum – around a million pounds.
During those dark cycles, I worried that one day I might not have the strength to keep fighting. But as soon as I emerged from those depths, it was like a dark cloud had lifted. I felt joyful and couldn’t even fathom the idea of ending my life. That realisation helped me understand that those thoughts weren’t real; I needed to manage them and not let them defeat me.
My beautiful kids were the ones who kept me going, though. How could I ever leave them behind to suffer because of my inability to cope? They were my motivation to fight through the pain.
Pushing people away
Sadly, as I got older, I realised PMDD was causing me to struggle in relationships. I began to push people away, feeling not only a deep hatred for myself during my menstrual cycle but also an overwhelming disdain for everything around me.
My marriage to my ex-wife was severely tested. I pushed her away, consumed by my struggles. There were nights when we just wouldn’t speak to each other, eating dinner in silence, my hormones raging, leaving me brooding and fuming. Our sex life dwindled into nothing as intimacy slowly and sadly became a thing of the past.
During my marriage, we often talked about what I thought was just bad PMS. I had never heard of PMDD, so I was left feeling like a terrible person grappling with emotions I didn’t fully understand. We visited the doctor multiple times, but each appointment only deepened my uncertainty about what was really happening to me.
I tried various birth control methods, such as the Depo-Provera injection and the Microgynon 30 pill and even explored herbal remedies like Vitamin B6, evening primrose oil and Bio-Balance Gummies, but nothing seemed to help.
Making a change
One day, while watching a daytime programme, I saw a woman sharing her story about the same symptoms I faced. She spoke about how they were destroying her career, her life, and her relationships. Hearing this actually uplifted me. I realised I wasn’t alone. It finally clicked; I wasn’t just a victim of my emotions – I was dealing with something that had a name.
Determined to make a change, I quickly scheduled an appointment with my GP and laid out all my symptoms. Seeing a female doctor for the first time, she listened to me with understanding. I was finally diagnosed and prescribed antidepressants. I took them for 12 years.
They helped to some degree with my anger and mood swings, but I still felt suicidal during my cycles. While the medication provided only mild relief, it came at a price: it numbed my emotions, making it difficult to form any meaningful connections with others. One wonderful relationship ended because of her understandable frustration towards my condition, breaking my heart.
Another, with a great woman called Deb, who remains my best friend, could have worked, but I struggled too much with my own issues.
I realised I couldn’t forge any new relationships without properly addressing my PMDD. I wasn’t willing to keep taking antidepressants when I wasn’t a depressive person. I needed someone to take my condition seriously, so I began demanding more help and answers.
Six months ago, I was referred to a specialist who inserted a Mirena coil, which was a game-changer. It not only stopped my periods but also helped balance my hormones. Alongside the coil, I was prescribed Evorel patches for Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) to address my oestrogen deficiency. This combination made a significant difference in managing my PMDD. I was even able to come off the antidepressants.
Now, my hormones are managed, and my symptoms are comparable to what other women experience with regular PMS. I live in hope the same treatment will help Avianna, too. This shift has made my body and mind feel so much healthier. I’ve even written a book, pouring all my emotions from a life of pain into a fictional novel called The Best Death.
While I still can’t wait for menopause to hurry up, things are more manageable now, and life seems much brighter. It’s just a shame it took me so long.
If you’ve been affected by any of the issues in this story you can contact Samaritans in the UK and Ireland on freephone 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie.
