#pme

I remember one time staring at my friends smiling and feeling such a visceral pain and emptiness that I ran out of the room to take a walk in which I decided to cut myself off from them and drafted a suicide note in my head. And two days later my period started and I went back to those friends feeling completely fine.

I remember sitting on the floor of my room sobbing over feelings that had been triggered by playing a video game, and thinking oh god, these depressive episodes hit me out of nowhere and when they happen I stop seeing a future that doesn’t Hurt, am I going to have to deal with being sick and completely incapable of being a human at random times for the rest of my life? So why do I even try? I made the decision to isolate myself again, because no companionship could possibly fix me. Followed by my period the next week.

I remember breaking down to my friends that I’m irreparably sick because of those random weeks where everything hurts and I become the worst version of myself, then two days later having to sit them down again and say that I was wrong and overreacting. (My period had started).

I remember coming home to see my family many times and lashing out at them. Freezing in the living room when I had to do work and yelling at everyone who tried to help me. I felt pathetic. I felt incapable of taking care of myself at all. I was so so angry. I stopped eating to punish myself. My period would start some days after this.

I remember being in so much distress one week that my friends were scared for me. Getting extensions on all of my finals because I couldn’t do anything but stare at the wall. Finishing performing in a show where I was the lead and breaking down 10 minutes after curtains fell because I couldn’t bring myself to feel proud or believe anyone who said I had done well, and wanting to give up my love of theater forever because what’s the point if it will never make me happy? Will my hobbies ever make me happy? And then my period came.

I can be happy. I’ve changed my meds and my treatment. And having a diagnosis that makes it all make sense has lifted this weight off of my shoulders. It won’t go away, but I know what’s there now. Knowing us half the battle, huh?