My PMDD story

 
 

My PMDD story

Shivani Bhatt March 2, 2023

Editor’s Note: We thank Shivani for being willing to share this story. Shivani is a past WIGCA volunteer who also helped create resources about Alpha-thalassemia and Beta-thalassemia

When I was in seventh grade, my best friend and I took weekly swimming lessons

together. My swim suit was fairly modest, but it highlighted new changes taking place in my

body such as thin, long black hairs growing around my inner thighs and peeking out from my

bathing suit. Peers had started light teasing at school about the hair on my back, and I felt that

this new development would lead to more teasing in addition to comments on my growing nose.

It had become twice as large since elementary school and included a horrible, large, red dot

directly in the center that emphasized how my nose had grown and taken on an oily texture. I

grappled with these insecurities in the women’s changing room, alone. My best friend was

mysteriously absent from swimming lessons that week.


My mom told me that my friend had started her period, but refused to explain what that

meant and how it related to missing swimming lessons. My friend remained silent and ashamed

when I would ask her questions about her period. Eventually, I stopped asking questions and

started paying a little more attention in health class. My seventh grade brain concluded that my

period would occur in the near future. I was expecting anything from a drop to a sea of blood.

The day my period came was uneventful. On a sunny summer morning, my mom and aunt gave

me a sanitary pad and explained that I would experience some discomfort the next few days. My

family moved from Canada to the United States shortly after my first period.


My high school years started the discomfort, pain, and dread associated with my periods.

Along with school supplies, I carried a little brown pouch with a pad inside in case I had my

period at school. My mom instructed me to wrap the pad multiple times with toilet paper when

disposing of it, so no one at school or at home would know I was on my period. I didn’t want

anyone to know about my periods either. My male classmates at my new middle school mocked

girls if they had an “accident” at school. They pointed, laughed, and talked amongst themselves

about how the bloodstains were gross. I never had an “accident” at school, however, that didn’t

mean I felt comfortable. I was certain that the boys could smell the distinct odor of period blood,

so I avoided socializing with male peers during my period.


I visited India some summers with my family. Women would ask my mom if I was

menstruating before including us in religious and cultural events some of which I had to miss. In

India, I had to keep my period a complete secret. Once, I accidentally left my pad on the

bathroom counter, and when a male family member asked my mom what it was, she took me

aside to quickly dispose of it before others started asking questions.


My college years marked the start of my battle of something I would eventually learn is

called Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD). PMDD means that 1-2 weeks before my period

I would experience severe emotional and physical symptoms such as depression and nausea. For

the first time, I had started experiencing difficulty in my coursework. Prior to my battle with

PMDD, I was an A and B student. I had occasionally struggled in classes, but I was always able

to see a course to the end by attending office hours, asking questions, and keeping a positive

attitude. Now, each time I found my classes difficult, I engaged in self-destructive behaviors such

as refusing to do my homework and neglecting self-care. One day, I had a particularly difficult

chemistry lab. When I went into lab, I made mistake after mistake in the procedure, prompting

the teaching assistant to take me aside. I felt throbbing pains in my head as my eyes gradually

became more and more unfocused. My next memory is the teaching assistant gently explaining

that I wouldn’t receive credit because the lab wasn’t completed. I couldn’t hear anymore. Tears

blurred my vision as I left. Incidents such as this continued in many of my classes. I found it

impossible to function academically and socially with only two weeks out of a month where I

felt any sense of normalcy.


I didn’t want to live like this, but I didn’t know what was wrong. I reached out to

disability services at my university about the brain fog I would experience in class. They were

ineffective and could not provide me the accommodations that I needed. I tried therapy. Therapy

tried to address the emotional aspects of my symptoms but couldn’t address the physical ones.

When I felt particularly low, I was unable to follow their advice.


One summer day, I woke up and refused to go to work. I stayed in bed and fantasized

about committing suicide. I stood up from bed to grab a snack and realized I wasn’t safe alone.

My family visited and they took me to emergency mental health services the same day. The

workers separated me from my family and took me to the patient waiting area. The clean white

walls and the absence of life and color frightened me. I went into a large room to speak to a

social worker. He spoke over me as I described my struggles with periods. Each time I described

the bloating or nausea, he gave visible signs of discomfort. He emphasized group therapy and

had no comments when I requested a referral to a women’s health specialist.

I got lucky. A close friend recommended a local nurse practitioner that specialized in

women’s reproductive health. At the appointment, I felt heard for the first time since I was in

seventh grade. She taught me that my experience was valid and many of her patients had similar

experiences. Additionally, she told me that I likely had PMDD, where the body is sensitive to the

normal hormonal changes that happen before the period starts, leading to the severe emotional

and physical symptoms I experienced.


We had an open discussion about various treatment options. Common medications for

PMDD include selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (Antidepressants) and hormonal birth

control pills. Antidepressants help manage the emotional symptoms of PMDD such as anxiety

and depression through the regulation of serotonin levels in the brain. Hormonal birth control

pills help manage the emotional symptoms of PMDD by regulating hormones like progesterone

and estrogen. I chose the Antidepressant route because I wanted to treat my non-PMDD related

anxiety and depression as well. My health-care provider emphasized that certain lifestyle choices

would support the improvement expected with the medication. I take daily vitamin supplements,

exercise regularly, meditate, and journal to cultivate gratitude and joy. I have found that the

medication and lifestyle choices together have made my PMDD symptoms easier to cope with

rather than impacting every area of my life.


I have overcome a lot of guilt and shame over the past few years. I felt inspired to write

this article because I wanted to share my personal experiences with period stigma and what it is

like living with a period health disorder such as PMDD. Unfortunately, 30% to 70% of women of

child bearing age experience period health disorders globally. My hope is that more people

become aware of period health disorders and their range of symptoms. It is important to start

honest conversations about period stigma, period health disorders, and reproductive/sexual health

not only with the general public but for the women whose experiences veer from expectations in

their family.


Resources

PMDD information

webmd.com/women/pms/premenstrual-dysphoric-disorder

iapmd.org/about

hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/premenstrual-dysphoricdisorder-pmdd

If you are considering suicide:

cdc.gov/suicide/resources/index.html

nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/suicide-prevention