About a month ago I start both Concerta for ADHD and Zoladex for PMDD/Endometriosis.
Gotta tell ya, this has been a trippy month...
Everything was fantastic. I was doing stuff, organised, I was just rocking round the clock...
Then I ovulated and all hell broke loose.
For those unfamiliar with the disorder you may want to Google PMDD. It's PMS - but instead of just moody or emotional you're psychotic (literally) and suicidal or violent. AKA clinically insane. Until you start to bleed.
The heaviest bleeding of my period has always been the day my partner and I know it's going to be ok again.
This month was different. I hope that means the meds are working.
It wasn't as bad as usual...but that was sorta worse from a certain perspective because I realise now I'm usually so far off the reservation I don't KNOW how bad it is.
Before all this I was flying high. I felt fantastic. Life without stimulants for my ADHD was HELL. Getting the meds I needed was liberating.
I was in a flawless routine. Up and at it by 8:30. I was eating, sleeping, working like a well adjusted adult for once. I was ticking off items on my task list so fast I was running out of to do's, a completely novel experience for me.
Then I ovulated.
Day one of PMDD everything I was shattered like glass. I stopped eating, cooking, bathing, moving, talking, working. My sleep cycle isn't. I wake up or pass out seemingly at random. Reality seems abstract. People feel like NPC's in a MMORPG. I don't know what day it is without checking the calendar on my phone. I lost a day twice in a week - I can't remember what I did that day at all.
Everything hurts. I'm sorta limply trying to institute my usual chronic illness coping strategies but I keep finding myself doing something else, usually hours later, super confused about how I got so off track.
There are times, like now, when I'm lucid. I try to write or tell people about it. I guess I'm trying to take field notes for my research, or warm people of what's going on. But twice I've found half written essays in text on my phone.
This piece has been discovered after I passed out around one today:
"I haven't eaten. I was awake until 4am, then slept an hour and was awake again by 6.
I have a back spasm and I keep catching my jaw clenching. I think that's how I passed out earlier - I took a tranquilliser for the back spasm. How many? I can't remember.
I should eat. I never defrosted anything. There's fish fingers. Been saving those for days like today when I fail to function. Hurrah. The system works!
I'll be back shortly. Fooooooood..."
The next day:
"I made fish fingers in the oven. Twice. The first time I forgot to turn the oven on, lol."
Four hours later I was asleep again. I wrote this the next morning:
"I lost another day. I was awake for 4 hours, slept for 8, woke up tired and throbbing with anxiety.
Things are more sore than usual. Burning hands, random sharp pains in my legs.
If I take another Rivotril I may as well write off the next week too - the hangover at this kind of dose lasts days. Damnit I have things to do! You know! Like survive!
What is happening physiologically?
I wonder. If I can understand what's causing all these secondary issues maybe I can compensate. Many sites talk about Progesterone intolerance. Seems consistent with my case. Would explain why going on birth control at 14 coincided with me getting more nuts, and the disaster that was depo provera.
Thank goodness I resisted doing that again. Sometimes I do get it right on instinct - I never had a hard science reason for saying no, I just felt it would be bad."
It's tough when all you have is instinct. People don't respect your intuition. Guess that's how I ended up in this mess. I never had a good enough explanation for why I said there was something wrong with me.
It's the hardest thing about this: Being treated like the girl that calls wolf.
I've been judged a lot. Too lazy. Too selfish. Too dependant. Unwilling to commit. Defiant. Martyr complex. Hystrionic. Hypochondriac. Arrogant. Stubborn. Superstitious. Inflexible. A bitch. Borderline. Manipulative.
Really sick day in and day out isn't something people understand. They can't conceive of it.
I think people just have a tolerance limit for drama...and if your life sucks more than they can deal with they bounce.
Can't blame them. I've had a lifetime to get used to this high octane level of ridiculously improbable bad luck. I don't even see it anymore. I was diagnosed as really seriously challenged at 4.
It's truly still surprising to me when I post something I think of as dark but funny online ie. "When your endometriosis is so bad they put you on chemo...:/" and people respond like my mum died.
That was supposed to be like a little funny...I mean it's not actually chemo, they just called it that, it's a hormone treatment....oh whatever. "Thanks for the sympathies." I finally end up saying instead, feeling like a tool for making people worry so much.
I forget it's a surprise to them that it's THAT bad. You get to the point of being insensitive to how really very strange it all is when it's your daily life.
I don't feel like I'm a downer, but I guess I am. It's like having cancer. Just admitting you are ill reminds people of this terrible truth they feel they should be tiptoeing around, bowing to, like they need to dress in black, cover mirrors, speak in hushed tones, bring flowers to your grave...
And I'm like, dude, I'm right here. Just chill. If I need a black parade I'll show up dressed like Wednesday Addams. If I'm not crying about it, you don't need to be on your toes about it with me either. I want to laugh about this. It helps.
I dunno what to say. What do I need from people? Why did I write this?
Maybe just for others like me. It's been the only thing that made me feel less nuts - reading about how others felt.
So yeah man, you peeps aren't alone. I get you. *Hugs*