Redefining Life: Life w/ PMDD

on the bottom of the ocean

One day, after I was trying to recover from almost killing myself  (remember how I said I can’t take anti-depressants because they make me suicidal?), I sat in a counselor’s office listening to him talk about waves. He said that when we are fighting against ourselves or something we don’t like, we can imagine ourselves being caught in a wave and trying to somehow control it.

At the time, my particular wave included trying to resist or gain control over lots of somethings I didn’t like. I was mad at myself for listening to a psychiatrist instead of myself. I was mad that my psychiatrist hadn’t listened to me (um, I think the meds are making my PMS worse & that my moods seem to be connected to my periods), and that this lack of listening had contributed to me almost dying. I was mad about trying another med when in my gut I knew I was having a bad reaction to meds. In the case of the horrible August day, I had found myself packing every medication I had for an overdose. I had gotten to the point of planning to commit suicide during the week before my period was about to start while I was simultaneously being told to increase a new med – Effexor. I was feeling really guilty about wanting to kill myself months ago when I had a little boy to think about (I did manage to drive myself to the university counseling center instead of going through with it). I was new to PMDD. I was angry. I felt so very, very out of control.

My wave felt huge.

The counselor began to describe the anatomy of a wave and suggested that when I felt like struggling, I try remembering that a wave cannot last. It has a beginning and an end. He suggested that I might want to imagine hanging out in the trough, the bottom of the wave, instead of trying to stop  it.  I pictured myself in this scooped out portion of everything I was trying to fix and it made me feel better. What if I cut myself some slack and just let it be what it was without trying to take action, knowing that it couldn’t last? Sure, I could try some coping strategies or counseling, but could I really expect myself to fix so many enormous and complicated emotions and events, to undo things that couldn’t be undone? Well I could. I did. But that wasn’t working very well.

I spoke with my mom about the idea of lying in the trough. She said when she was a little girl she swam out too far and was caught up in the tide. She recalled struggling and then allowing herself to simply roll on the bottom of the ocean. Before very long, she found herself rolled right onto the beach, safe again.

Tell me about your wave.

Tell me about what it feels like to lie in the trough.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.