For a while, when people asked me to describe PMDD, I struggled. I couldn’t put into words what I went through every cycle, how I would be completely myself for a week then I would change into a person that I didn’t recognise in the mirror. It wasn’t just my bloated stomach and slightly swollen face with tears rolling down my cheeks but the lack of control I had over money, getting irritated at absolutely everything, feeling paranoid, mood swings left right and centre, feeling so on edge and overwhelmed with the simplest tasks, lack of concentration, panic attacks which came out of nowhere, and the suicidal thoughts/ideation. I could go on, but I’m trying to get out of the habit of waffling.

At first, I started calling my PMDD ‘The Alien’, one, because of how alienating it is (not my word, my GP’s when I first went to get help) and secondly, because of the alien balloon. In the second year of Uni, my best friend had this house party and one of my housemates thought it would be a good idea to buy light-up balloons in the shape of aliens. At the end of the night, when everybody had left, I was a bit drunk and found one of these balloons in the corner of the kitchen, and of course, I had to name it PMDD. So, the alien became ‘PMDD’ and my PMDD became ‘The Alien.’ The balloon ended up in some random bin by the end of the night, but the name stuck for a while.

Then came ‘Batshit Brenda.’ I got this from a fellow PMDD warrior and then decided to use it as the title of my monologue about PMDD in the third year of Uni. ‘Batshit Brenda’ is more of a name than ‘The Alien’ will ever be and at the time, it was the one description I could turn to when I got asked to describe the disorder. Funny…yes, but telling, also yes. But now, after having the worst PMDD episode I’ve ever had, I don’t feel like the name fits anymore.

It was whilst listening to “The Dark Side of the Moon” by Pink Floyd, that I found myself repeating the song “Brain Damage” just for the line “There’s someone in my head, but it's not me.” Even though the masterpiece of an album was written to reflect the mental health of former band member Syd Barrett who was thought to have suffered from schizophrenia, I feel like the song, and possibly the entire album puts into words how I feel not only during PMDD but also after when I am trying desperately to pick up the pieces. It somehow manages to capture the sheer desperation, struggle, fight, and feeling that PMDD makes you go through every cycle. I never thought at the start of my journey that that would be possible, but here we are.

As I write this and the album is playing on my phone (though I wish it was playing on vinyl), I’m looking towards the future. After trying every line of treatment, thus discovering I am highly intolerant to progesterone, I wait for a date for a full hysterectomy along with removal of both ovaries and tubes. If you would have told me that at the age of 22, I would be writing these exact words, I would have never believed you. But after years of battling this illness and having it affect every aspect of my life, especially my education and relationships, I’m ready to look forward to a brighter and better life where “There’s someone in my head, but it’s not me” will just be a lyric.

"There's someone in my head, but it's not me"