Jane's Story

Jane's Story

PMT strikes those of us who suffer in various ways. Occasionally I'd have a "good" month, i.e. I didn't feel like an inadequate wife, mother, daughter or for that matter WOMAN! On a "bad" month I felt all of the above accompanied by anger, anxiety, and sadness mixed in with a sense of hopelessness. I went through my days in a daze, a fog clouded my judgement and perception of my world, my life and everything around it. For me there was something I resisted doing when PMT hit.  Once back to "normal" and reflecting upon it I knew it was such a pointless action as well as time consuming and costly. It was to take flight. DRIVE!

I was a young mother married in my 20's with 2 small sons and a baby daughter. We had our own home, a car to drive, and family around us. I remember walking home along a footpath, sun shining on us as the boys ran along ahead of me pushing our baby in her buggy. Life was good! I felt content. I was happy, so "what's the problem?" There wasn't a problem with where I was in my life, the problem which disrupted my contented self on a regular basis was PMT. When content became discontent that's when I would drive. Children asleep, husband asleep, myself not sleeping. It felt like I was trying to navigate a maze in my mind. I kept making lists of everything I should feel thankful for but not feeling it. I remember getting up to drive, anywhere, no destination in mind, just to drive. This particular night I ended up in a town approximately 40 miles away before I snapped out of it and my PMT brain was overridden by the guilt I felt at leaving my precious family sleeping whilst I fled into the night. I went home with tears stinging my eyes, got into bed and no one was any the wiser. The next morning as my PMT left I was safe again, at least for the next couple of weeks.

I remember being in my 40's one summer's day, another daughter had arrived to complete my family. Again life was good, but sitting on the back step, hastily putting on my shoes, my eldest son, now in his teens, asked "Where are you going Mum?". I felt far from good. I didn't know when I awoke that morning that I would cause my children to worry. It happened in a moment, throwing things into a bag, passport, money, photographs and then I got into the car. Driving across a bridge, my non PMT voice starts screaming "GO HOME!" in a battle against my irrational and irresponsible PMT voice. I spent a few hours in a car park crying until my head thumped and my eyes hurt, ignoring phone calls from people who cared about me because I just couldn't win the battle against destabilising PMT. Eventually I returned home later that day and the next morning, as my cycle changed, life became good again, but the guilt always remained that now my children had to share the effects of PMT with me.

Now in my early 50's, life is good. Eldest children now in their 20's and youngest a teenager. Work going well, goals in life on track. I should be fine now, yes? One Saturday morning my partner and I were both going to work. As I brushed my hair in front of the mirror it was happening again. "Please, NO MORE!". I start throwing things into a bag with tears in my eyes, a headache already, and arguing with myself as I battled with it. But IT won! DRIVE! A text came in from my partner "Where are you?". I was on the outskirts of a town over 60 miles away, sitting in a lay by. Crying. If someone had enquired as to why I was crying it would have been the same answer that I would have given throughout the years, "I DON'T KNOW!" Eventually I replied and he text back "can you please come home now?", and so I did. 

As I've aged my PMT episodes have been replaced by the menopause, but that's another story...