Estimated Reading Time: 11 mins
(NB: This blog post touches on abusive experiences and suicidal ideation that may be distressing, please read with caution).
Introduction
It’s not entirely clear why some women develop PMDD.
However, research has explored a number of possible contributing factors.
One study published by the National Institutes of Health examined the relationship between PMDD and emotional trauma, particularly childhood trauma, which you can read about here.
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When Words Become Wounds
The findings by NIH resonated with me because I had experienced significant trauma across various stages of my life, from childhood well into adulthood.
Born with a deformity known as Cleft Lip and Palate meant my school life was often a deeply difficult and depressing experience.
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Constant ridicule, scorn, and mockery became a regular part of my childhood, and not just within the school environment.
Unfortunately, the ridicule extended far beyond the school gates and found its way into other social environments too.
This remained my reality until I was around 19 years old.
Even then, it didn’t cease entirely, it simply became less frequent as I grew older.
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As you might imagine, my self-esteem was shattered, and for many years, my self-confidence was virtually non-existent.
I accepted the things people said about me as truth, and began attaching those labels to myself.
Over time, their opinions became the lens through which I viewed my own worth.
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The Pain of Abandonment
In addition to the challenges faced in my early years, my father was deported from the country when I was seven years old.
I remember being very fond of him and having a close relationship with him before he left.
He would often take me along on his road trips and we always enjoyed spending time together.
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At home, however, his relationship with my mother was dangerously toxic.
Because of my innocence at the time, I still loved him dearly.
Returning home from school one afternoon to discover his sudden departure left me heartbroken and shattered what little emotional security I had.
No prior preparation, no goodbye — just, gone.
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The loss devastated me.
Many nights were spent crying myself to sleep, only to wake feeling empty, sad, and depressed.
No seven-year-old should have to carry that kind of pain.
Eighteen years would pass before we saw one another again, and only after I had saved enough money to make the journey myself.
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Single Parent Survival
Following my father’s departure, my mother took on the responsibilities of raising us alone and never remarried.
Life became a constant struggle as she worked tirelessly to keep our heads above water.
For the most part, however, it often felt like we were drowning in small doses.
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It was incredibly difficult for my mother to support our family on her own, but somehow, she found a way to make it work.
To supplement the income she earned from various jobs, she would often rent out a spare bedroom to friends or acquaintances to help make ends meet.
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Tragically, one of these occupants would later assault me sexually.
With my mother often at work, he exploited those periods when I was left vulnerable and alone.
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I never told my family because, at just nine years old, I somehow convinced myself that it was my fault.
I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of shame.
It wasn’t until I was 30 that I finally shared the experience with my mother.
Understandably, she was devasted to learn what had happened, upset that it had gone unnoticed at the time.
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A Series of Goodbyes
Fast forward some years and life’s difficulties were far from over.
I went on to lose several close male family members I had grown especially close to following my father’s absence.
Among them was my mother’s first cousin.
He became something of a favourite uncle to me, regularly travelling from Germany to stay with us.
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We’d fly kites at the park, and as a professional musician, he played a significant role in nurturing my love for music.
I cherished the time we spent together.
His presence helped fill the void that existed in our home after my father left.
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But somehow, he disappeared during my adult years, and despite our best efforts, we were never able to locate him.
The loss reopened old wounds, leaving me feeling hurt, rejected, and abandoned all over again.
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The Burden of Bereavement
The loss that truly shattered my already fragile spirit, however, was that of my unofficially adopted brother.
He was just 34 years old when he passed away in 2017.
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We had grown up together as siblings, and that’s all I had ever known him to be.
Coming from an abusive household, he found comfort and refuge with my family, becoming part of our lives in every sense of the word.
Everyone who knew me knew him too.
Despite our four-year age gap, we spent so much time together that we were virtually inseparable.
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He was the one person who could make the world feel like sunshine and rainbows during my PMDD days.
If I told him I wanted to be left alone, he’d often turn up anyway armed with snacks, movie suggestions, and a determination never to take no for an answer.
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He hated seeing me suffer through the condition and would respond by bombarding me with love, support and humour.
He wasn’t just my brother — he was an inspiration, my closest confidant, and my best friend.
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After his untimely death, my PMDD episodes became more severe than they had ever been.
The suicidal thoughts that accompanied the condition intensified considerably.
This video short, recorded in 2018 one year after his passing, offers an accurate glimpse into what life looked like at the time.
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The condition became intertwined with grief and the weight of long-standing trauma, creating a combination that felt impossible to navigate.
As a result, I continued to spiral until I eventually reached rock bottom.
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PMDD — Cause or Correlation?
I’ve shared so much of my story because, if you also live with PMDD, there’s a possibility that you may also carry the weight of deep traumas or significant life experiences.
When I reflect on my past, it’s easy to see how those experiences may have played a role in the development of my condition.
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The majority of my childhood and young adult life was marked by one traumatic event after another.
I later noticed that many of the symptoms I’d exhibit during PMDD, closely mirrored the emotional and psychological struggles that had characterised much of my earlier life.
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Sadness, depression, anxiety, severe fatigue, hopelessness, low mood, and many of the other symptoms felt strikingly familiar.
I’ve often wondered whether these emotions had become learned patterns of response.
Over time, it felt as though my body’s automatic defence mechanisms began reacting to every perceived threat.
This included the internal kind such as hormonal changes.
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If PMDD is indeed linked to increased brain sensitivity to hormonal changes, it helps me make sense of why the condition has played such a significant role in my life.
I’ve always been a deeply sensitive individual, shaped in many ways by my early life experiences.
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As a result, I learned to anticipate the worst and often lived in a heightened state of vigilance.
Consequently, my brain seemed to develop a tendency to react quickly and intensely to perceived threats.
This is where I personally believe PMDD may have entered the equation.
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Summary
To lessen the impact of the condition, I felt it was necessary to address the root of my trauma.
Doing so would not only help me manage PMDD more effectively, but also transform the way I viewed both myself and the world around me.
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My first step on that journey was therapy.
Once I began confronting and processing my past, I noticed a significant shift in my experience of PMDD.
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Looking back, I believe much of that change came from learning to release the trauma I had carried for so many years.
Moving beyond the victim mentality was a crucial part of that process.
After laying the initial foundation, I was able to begin the deeper work of reshaping my thought patterns.
From there, I could rebuild my mental resilience and became more intentional in the way I approached life as a whole.
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I’ve published a two-part series exploring this very topic; Why does PMDD happen?
You can watch part one here and part two here.
I firmly believe that the more we understand ourselves and the condition, the better equipped we’ll be to manage it.
Remember, knowledge is truly powerful, but more so once it’s put into practice.
