Each month is more of the same. From the outside my life looks picture perfect. Self employment became a double-edged sword, solving a few problems and creating a mountain of others. Thankfully, I'd hired well and my crew was able to handle most things when it came to SeaPaints, but behind my closed doors, my world was falling apart. Again and again, each month without fail.
Rage, despair, debilitating anxiety, and soul sucking depression became my normal.
By now, I'd tried several anti-depressants and of course the classic fix, birth control, but none of it seemed to touch this desperate rage inside me. Soon, I became unable to feel joy- ever. And that truly terrified me because what is life worth? If it's joyless?
My mind wanders to the one night, with the knife on the side of the tub. Ready to end it all. It sounds peaceful now and part of me regrets my willingness to continue on.
I should have just ended it then.
I start to envy the women that those methods had worked for. No, I envy their relief.
To combat the trenches of PMDD, I start relying more and more on alcohol to comfort me. And it does. Initially. By the time I realized I'd gotten addicted, my life was already falling apart.
When I got sober a year later, I thought it would fix my life. Only, it didn't. Instead, it brings years of impending doom, frantic anxiety, and self hatred right to the surface.
As time moves on, I start to think that maybe just maybe, I can somehow learn to live with this. And that's when a whole new level of symptoms arose, that would ultimately change my life forever.
