The tires squealed as I jerked the wheel. The slick pavement of the interstate fought against my instinct. Left…no right. Metal crushed loudly and for a moment, time stood still on that dark, rainy highway. “I don’t want to die.”
In the rear view mirror I saw death and it was a spotlight on the fact that I didn’t want to die. Not today. I’m not ready yet. Nevertheless, I’ve heard that voice inside my head tell me in fact I do want to die.
To some this may seem like a no brainer and a forethought conclusion. However, up until now I have struggled with depression and the dark thoughts it summons.
In all honesty, I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve thought of the easiest way to end it all. In fact, this car crash thing seemed like an option at one point. Yes, I’ve wanted to die. Or at least I thought I did.
It sounds dramatic and completely ridiculous when I say it out loud. It’s complicated and extremely exhausting when you fight these inner demons. After all, that inner voice sounds like my own.
Am I alone in this battle? It feels like. However, I know that millions of people suffer from depression and suicidal thoughts. Hell, I have 4 people in my house that have depression. Depression is everywhere, in every social economic situation, every race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation. It does not discriminate.
The want to live came for me in a car crash that with the opposite instinctual jerk of the wheel could’ve sent me to the morgue. The light shining in my tear view was a semi truck waiting to plow me straight into the ground.
All of this to say I want to live. Furthermore I want you to live. I don’t want that desire to live to be in a near fatal situation or in the last moment after it’s too late to choose. That voice isn’t you, it’s the enemy. We have to fight it and keep fighting it. Even when we feel like we have no fight left.
I know it’s easier said than done. I take my meds, I do the best I can too, but some days it feels like it’s all just too heavy. Let someone else take that wheel. Pick up the phone, send a text, hell, call me. Seriously.
If nothing else I want to document that I do, in fact, want to live. This way the next time my demons come to collect my desire to keep on keeping on I can remember that for whatever reason, or by chance that someone, somewhere took the wheel for me. Thanks mom. 😇 And, yes, I do want to live.
Real talk. On. Period. I’m broaching a taboo subject. It’s something we don’t seem to ever talk about. The dreaded “time of the month.” Even if I talk about the period, PMS or PMDD, most will still get theirs. If not, congratulations, you’ve graduated from this part of life, gave those reproductive organs their final farewell, or you might be expecting!
One way or another if you were born with a vaheen and the complete baby making factory, you have most likely been impacted by a visit from “Aunt Flo”. Let’s talk about PMS & PMDD. Real talk style. Thats on period.
PMDD & Me
30 years of experience qualifies me to speak on this subject we keep to the privacy of our porcelain thrones. It’s life. It’s just the more messy part. Add in 6 girls living in my house, <including me> and you’ve got a period every week of the month and then some. That’s a lot of emotional outbursts, PMS, and cramps to battle. Reminder: Buy stock in Tampax, Playtex, Divacup, Midol, and all the Always products available!
For some it’s easier to manage, but for others, it’s a bloody hell <pun intended> That’s just the truth. Personally, I fall on the latter side of that equation. I’m a raging, hormone fueled, emotional, overly sensitive, b!tch. In addition, it’s a 7-10 day event that rivals a crime scene. It’s overnight, heavy flow feminine products that make me feel anything but feminine. It’s cramps that feel like the worst case of food poisoning and back pain that silences me into submission.
Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder <PMDD> affects up to 9% of women today according to the American Psychological Association. PMDD is a more severe form of PMS. PMDD has increases symptoms with an increased impact on the daily life of the person that suffers from this disorder.
Symptoms of PMDD
Sleeping more often than usual
Lack of interest in normal activities
PMDD Or Something Else?
The difference between PMS, which is the normal affects of hormonal changes on the body, and PMDD are the severity of the symptoms displayed. PMDD symptoms will be much more pronounced and adversely affect the person’s ability to perform their normal daily activities.
The symptoms can also mimic those experience with Major Depressive Disorder <MDD> The main differentiation between PMDD and MDD is the cyclic occurence of the symptoms, when they present, and the duration of their presence. MDD is more unpredictable and is the symptoms do not resolve on their own.
PMDD is diagnosed <by a medical doctor> using cyclic tracking of symptoms, general exam, blood work to rule out deficiencies or thyroid issues, and by pelvic exam. However, it is mostly relied upon by the tracking of symptoms over a period of time.
I have found this app I downloaded on my phone is the best way to easily track my symptoms and keep record of my cycles. It even generates reports, allows you to add symptoms not listed, track ovulation as well as sexual activity. However, there are average other out there. <Unpaid promotion>
First off, I must state that I am not giving medical advice and if you believe you are experiencing the extreme of the symptoms listed above, I strongly encourage you to reach out to your doctor, OBGYN, or treating physcian for guidance on how to best manage your symptoms.
Ovaries? Over IT!
There are many options available to help. The obvious is the support of your family, friends, and spouse. In addition, there are medical procedures, medication therapy, and hormone therapy that could be beneficial.
In more severe cases, surgery to remove reproductive organs, known as a hysterectomy, has become more accessible to most women via vaginally or laparoscopic with minimal impact compared to the one your grandmother told you horror stories about.
More Options for Treatment of PMDD
PMDD is not treated with a pamprin or midol. It is typically treated with medication therapy such as antidepressants, mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety medication, and analgesic medications for pain relief. However, there are options in addition to medication therapy.
Vitamin supplements such as B6, calcium, or magnesium
Is it REALLY THAT BAD?
As someone who has suffered from PMDD, I know it’s not just my “crazy” showing again that I need to cover up. I am thankful, however, that I have been able to find a non-surgical and non-narcotic approach to treat my symptoms. Though surgery will one day be required, but it is a bit more complicated <per usual> than I can handle at the moment.
First and foremost, it is my opinion that regardless of the root cause, diagnosis, or label, it is important to validate the personal experience of the individual. After all, perception is reality. <Different tangent!> Treat the human, not the illness specifically.
If you have a partner, friend, spouse, or colleague that speaks about their lady business and it’s adverse effects on their well-being, take them at their word. I promise “it’s that time of the month” is an acceptable explanation of increased anxiety, emotional instability, fatigue, and pain.
However, it’s easy to minimize the issues that affect our lives if we don’t speak about them. If you can’t talk about it and no one can see it, in turn, it doesn’t exist! Momma, it does! It’s hard, it sucks, and it’s OK to say that sometimes. We aren’t all blessed with 2-3 day light flow cycles and reproductive organs matched only by the goddesses of fertility!
Real Talk. On Period.
As a firm advocate for those who live life with mental illness and care for those living with mental illnesses, I stand behind the PMDD diagnosis as a legitimate and proven medical condition. However, as with all medical diagnoses, especially psychological, there is controversy. In addition, where mental health is a factor, stigma is attached.
All of this to say, I know that these issues affect many women. I’m not the only person that is finished with their life giving stage of life and feeling like they could rips their own reproductive organs out a large portion of the month. I also know how little that these topic are publicly broadcasted. It’s not cute, or on trend to talk about our bathroom business in such public ways, and for goodness sake we are ladies!
If you need support or help, reach out to your doctor. There are options for most women. Being a woman is hard, but it shouldn’t be miserable.
You ane me, we’ve got this! That’s on period. 🔴 ☮️❤️😊~M
Good Morning! 😘 I am leaning on the My Threefold tribe of mommas to get a little advice on my plan of action! Maybe I can gain some insight from the opinions of you guys! My kids are breaking me! I’m not just broke trying to support my boogie little beauties, I am B-ROKE. I’m attempting to sell the B off from the remainder of the word, kind of b-roke. 🤣🤣 However, I have a plan. I just need some feedback!
It would seem that my children, like most, don’t have a concept of how much money they receive each week for these items. Somehow, it’s never enough. I get calls saying “Momma, I need ….” A text request for my drive home from work, and empty promises filled with cleaning fairy dust and the return of the bowls from the burial ground under the beds in their room. Girls, are gross too, my friends, so freaking gross! 🤢🤮🤢
I am scared to see the results, but for the next week I am going to track exactly how much my kids spend on “luxury” items. I’m not talking about toilet paper or laundry detergent I’m talking about extra lunch/snack money for school, the fast food, requests for makeup, spending money, etc. All the crap they think they need to live their lives to the fullest, like Spotify premium or the unlimited data with 5g LTE, wifi, and the other seemingly priceless items some magical money fairy bestowed on our family of freeloaders! 🙄🙄
Once I show them how much they spent on their personal requests, I intend to show them how much it requires to provide the basic necessities like shelter, electricity, and those 30 minute blood of the dragon showers. The umpteen rolls of toilet paper that I feel are wadded around their hands in cast like fashion to protect their hands from the germs down under. I mean we do have soap, and ya know after you go around twice with Charmin it’s just a blanket you are using to soak up the pee! 💩💩💩 have no doubt that their cost of living is no where near the number they believe it is. They think they don’t have enough, but I see excess and moreover, wastefulness. I’m sure they aren’t intentional in their lackadaisical attitude surrounding their spending habits, just oblivious teenagers. 😒😒
My next step will be to show them how many hours I must work to provide them each the lifestyle they have grown accustomed to living at home. It’s time they see that money isn’t just waiting around for good use. In fact, it is very much earned by my hardworking, blood, sweat, tears, and my time away from them.
I am NOT trying to shame my kids for wanting more, but teach them that the price of tea and fine china 🥄🥄🥄 come with more than just a price to my financial account, but also to my physical and emotional bank account. 🤪😴🤑 The intent is to instill the value of a dollar earned. As a result, I hope they learn to be grateful, less entitled and more appreciative of the work that I put in to meet all of their needs. I don’t ask for much on return. I want respect, both of myself as their sugar momma, and of the property in which I have worked to acquire. Honestly, I think cleaning your room, keeping your own messes cleaned up, and completing one task that contributes to the household per day isn’t a BIG request. 🤔
How do you handle/did you handle chores, allowance, and get the compliance of your family? I don’t like to fight, I won’t argue or beg. I’m to the point, do it or don’t, but when you come asking I’ll mirror what decision I saw you make when I asked for your help. 😤🥱😫Mommin’ aint easy, but together, me and you, we’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M #makeitcount #moneymoves #keepingupwiththejoneses #mybrokebougiebrats #helpamommaout #mythreefold #broke
At my darkest and loneliest times, she is there. In the silence of the night, she is there. When I’m at my weakest, she is there. She is with me when I walk into an uncomfortable situation. After a heartbreak and in my grief, she never leaves me. When I’m on cloud nine, and hopeful she shows up. When I’m anxious and unsure, she is talking to me. When I’m hurt and angry, she supports my feelings. She validates my actions. She gives me the option to run away. She remembers everything I’ve ever said. She knows my past. She knows my weaknesses. She takes pictures, so I remember what we’ve done together and all of our experiences. She is the one who hasn’t ever abandoned me, and the one never stops showing up.
I’m sure you’re wondering who this is. Maybe a mother, a daughter, a sister, a lover, or a friend. She is none of these and all of these. She isn’t anything and she is everything. She is the voice inside my head that I fight to silence every day.
You may think that you know her, but let me explain. She isn’t there supporting me or empowering me to keep going. She wants me to stay this way so she can thrive while I struggle to merely survive.
Who Are You?
You won’t meet her, but im sure you know someone just like her. You can’t see her, but her voice is always there. You probably aren’t a fan if by chance you know her as intimately as I do. Consider this your proper introduction. However, I don’t know if you will understand.
She steals the spotlight, demands to be heard, and aims to hurt anyone who dares to silence her. She is the one who tells me that I’m never going to be enough. She shows me the worst parts of the people around me. She drives them away, then tells me “see they don’t love you. Otherwise, they would stay.” She manipulates my feelings and twists my words. She tells me the worst-case scenarios and keeps me fearful of my every move.
Where Did She Come From?
Sometimes, she sounds like my mother, telling me I will never be pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, good enough, or just enough. Other times, she sounds like my abusers who made me believe I was always to blame. In my head, she can make anyone sound like a hurt from my past. She has pictures and videos she can play to remind me of every hurt I’ve ever endured. She holds the buttons to my triggers. She is persistent and doesn’t care about the consequences.
I know she is made up of the broken pieces of my past. She is the child who felt unwanted. She is the teenager dying to fit in. She is the young mother looking for a way out. She is the abuse survivor. She is a traumatized woman. She is bleeding in the shower. High in the bathroom. A thief. A covert narcissist. An abandoned young adult. A lonely wife. The mother who was too scared to fight back and save her children. She is the addict. She is the worst part of me. That’s who she is. She is the version of myself I’m scared to become and equally terrified she is the real version I keep hiding from the world.
Change Her, Break Her, Abolish Her
I have tried to allow her visitation and then quickly see her out. However, she is relentless. At times, she is the only one who validates the unfairness of this life. She allows me to be not okay. It’s oddly comforting to be able to wallow and grieve a life I didn’t live. However, she aggravates those wounds I am trying so hard to heal. She breaks them back open and makes them bleed.
The past suddenly becomes present, and she revels in the power to overtake me. She feeds on my pain. It is as if my own mind is going to destroy me slowly. She holds me hostage. I struggle to break free. No matter how hard I try, I haven’t found a way to rid myself of her.
Fighting to be Free
You may think I’m just negative or that I’m weak. I’m the exact opposite. I am strong because I fight this voice that prays on my downfall each day. I’m successful in defeating her, but she knows when to strike. She pulls me to the darkness and holds me captive to her cruel onslaught of verbal blows.
I’m unsure if others fight off this toxic voice made up of their past. However, I know it’s lonely when it’s her and I. Maybe another person wont feel alone with no one who understands that the voice inside your head is sometimes hardest to silence. Even now, years into healing I still struggle to find my healthy escape from her torture.
Now you’ve had an introduction. If sometimes you see me cloaked in fear, paranoia, resentment, anger, or anxiety, please know I did not choose this for myself. I don’t need your attention, but meet me with compassion instead of judgment. I’m broken, and this is what repeated trauma has left behind for me.
It’s not easy. Sometimes, it’s the hardest battle I fight in a day. It is a battle of dismissing my past negative and limiting beliefs. I try now to remind myself of the 3 years of work I’ve put into my healing. However, I fight every day for the future I want, not to stay prisoner to the past, I escaped. I hope you, too, can find healing, and one day, I hope there is comfort in silence instead of her voice telling me how I will never fully overcome the trauma of my past. You and me, we’ve got this! ☮️ ❤️😊~M
I’m screaming. Why am I screaming? I know it’s not going to help. However, nothing I’ve done to this point has helped either. Here we are again. I’m sitting reading and re-reading the suicide note from my 14 year old daughter. Asking myself again, how we got here, what did I miss, and why she doesn’t want to be in this world anymore. I just want to stop the insanity.
Missing the Signs
I missed the Signs? AGAIN. She didn’t confide in me. AGAIN. I’m calling the crisis hot line.https://www.samhsa.gov › find-help 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline | SAMHSA I’m calling the psychiatrist. I’m calling out at work. She is bleeding. Inside and out. She is hoarding medication. Planning her suicide. AGAIN. She is deciphering if jumping off a cliff or overdosing would be a quicker way to end her existence. I’m lost. I’m confused. I’m angry.
I’m so incredibly angry. I’m not sure where to place my anger. Who can I blame? Why is this happening to her? To us? I choose to place blame on everyone, especially myself. I blame her, too, which isn’t fair. I bought the act. I handed her the weapon. I chose, yet again, to believe the pretty picture she had painted to cover her pain. I wanted so much to believe it. However, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? We’ve been through this before.
I Should’ve Known
I should’ve learned how to catch on quicker to the cover up. The first hospitalization in 2020 taught me to take it more seriously. The hospitalization in 2021, that lasted 18 weeks, should’ve been enough for me to understand the gravity of it all. After the hospitalizations earlier this year, I should’ve known that she would hide the hurt until it was nearly too late. Now, here I sit asking myself, what are we going to do this time?
Another hospitalization, more medication changes, intensive therapy, inpatient, residential, intensive outpatient, or something else? There is no cure, that’s what she told me just last week. I know. I wish there was. In conclusion, I’m lost, but I’m thankful that I haven’t lost her to this battle.
Regardless, what the statistics say, I won’t stop fighting. No amount of money or time is going to stop me from finding her the treatment she needs. I’ll keep fighting her demons, and my own, for as long as I live. I’m not giving up. I’m never going to surrender even while I scream how unfair this is for us. My pain is no match to the pain she is living with. Pray for us all. Pray for #2. Pray for my threefold. Pray for this mom who is trying to mom mental illness. Together, we’ve got this. ☮️❤️😊~M