(Yes, another post about monthly lady issues, but as it has become increasingly worse and impacts my precarious mental states, I find it necessary and relevant to tracking my altered moods and recording how it robs me of basic functionality…Plus, if someone else out there stumbles on this and has the same symptoms…well, they can at least know it’s not all in their head and they’re not alone.
Limbo, as in ‘how low can you go?’ The extreme ups and downs I am experiencing this past week are driving me mad. Mostly lows and total loss of motivation and functionality. I do the bare minimum and still feel like I’ve been awake for days lifting heavy machinery. I know it’s hormones but it really is mind boggling how much PMS/PMDD can impact one’s mental and physical state. I used to be willing to roll with all the standard bitchy PMS jokes. Now…after having my daughter my condition has gotten so much worse, there’s no laughter or joking area for me.
I think this may have been why I was so fired up for the doctor to raise my Cymbalta. Because whether I like it or not, every month this stuff comes and alters my mental state and robs me of even basic enjoyment. (One of my old shrinks actually LISTENED to me and would give me like 7 days of low dose Prozac to at least help ward off the monthly symptoms but yeah, he left and the current revolving door regime has zero interest in listening.) Like stopping at a yard sale, even if I’ve only got a quarter in my pocket, and just browsing. Participating in life, in things I enjoy. Housework is my bane of existence but right now,it’s so low on the priority list even if I wince when I see all the fuzz on the carpet. Using the vacuum is just too much trouble, lugging two seperate pieces room to room and it spits out more than it sucks up. (Yeah, my dad’s idea of an upgrade from my old vac, which did the same damn thing.) For some people, getting up and active helps with at least the physical pain involved in PMS/PMDD symptoms. For me, it just leaves me feeling more beaten up and bruised and exhausted.
So I try not to overtax myself physically and do battle with my wonky mental state which of course, makes my mental state worse.
Three nights straight I’ve perked up when the pain lessened and did the “I am gonna do this and this and that tomorrow, better get some sleep”…And for the third straight morning, I’ve wakened to feel the same shitty way. And it’s not lack of determination. I purposely went without melatonin last night so I wouldn’t be too groggy to wake up this morning. Unfortunatly, I was still awake at 2:30 a.m. Woke up at 3:30 a.m. 5 a.m. 7:30 a.m.
By my set upon ‘get moving’ alarm…I pulled the cover back over my head. Finally got up at 9:50, which with my kid at grandma’s, is indeed a rare treat. I said I’d pick her up around noon ‘after’ I ran the necessary errands. It’s 11:30 now and I’ve done nothing but get sucked into watching Special Victims Unit. Because sitting still and zoning out to a TV screen is the only thing I can do with minimal discomfort and exhaustion. That and the fact my sinuses are draining and my allergies have kicked in so I am drowning and gagging here.
I am pretty healthy person, physically. Rarely see a doctor, rarely get sick, rarely take even OTC pain killers unless I’ve tried riding out a migraine or cramps for hours to no avail. I’m not much of a talker (you’d never know that from the volume of my purge writing, would you>) so I don’t really complain to others no matter how bad I am feeling. I have had a couple of bad reactions to medications that resulted in locked up muscles so I could barely move and I kept plugging away.So I am not some whiney snowflake taken out by the first sign of physical discomfort. This PMS/PMDD shit is for real. It stems from my paternal grandmother’s side, she used to be bedridden for a week at a time, her symptoms were so bad. And this is a way from the depression years who was subservient to her husband and pushed like a work mule by him and her own parents from an early age. She was of hardy stock, taught not to complain and just get shit done. So when she confided to me and my sister that our monthly conditions are hereditary from her side and it took her down so far…I realized this isn’t whiney snowflake territory. Sadly, genetic validation doesn’t make it any easier to handle.
Point is, I’m not prone to voicing every minor or major complaint and expecting sympathy. If this impacts me enough to keep posting about it, it’s debilitating.
So I guess I will pick up my kid whenever unless they call and say otherwise. Forget errands, not going to happen today, either. I am not giving up, I am just…taking a step back. Maybe later my give a damn will propel me into action. Ibuprofen probably wouldn’t hurt but I despise taking more pills than need be, the psych meds are bad enough.
I read or heard someone describing depression as sinking in quicksand and fighting it makes it worse.And sometimes this is such a dead on description…Right now the quicksand is up to my waist and I’m gonna stop fighting it. It will release me later. Which I’ve been saying for days now but this is the monthly limbo dance.
I suck at the limbo.