The Silence After the PMDD Storm

From the tender age of twelve, a shadow stretched over my inner world. It wasn't a visible darkness, but a persistent, creeping low mood that became my unwelcome companion. In those early years, and for decades that followed, I often found myself wishing mental anguish could be like a physical ailment – something you could pinpoint, cut away, and heal from. Oh, if only it were that simple, to excise the roots of despair with a surgeon's knife.

Yet, the insidious nature of mental health struggles meant there was no tangible thing to remove, no clear path to sever the ties with the persistent negativity that clung to my thoughts.

Disaster moments, everyday frustrations, even a minor life hiccup – they all carried the same terrifying weight. My mind would betray me, offering up intrusive, unwanted thoughts of self-harm or suicidal ideation. It was a constant, internal battle, a dialogue of dread that played on repeat. What made it even more isolating was a quiet, crushing realisation: for so long, I hadn't understood that this wasn't everyone's normal. I genuinely believed that this internal landscape of struggle was simply how existence felt. It was a private torment, a constant hum beneath the surface of my public life.

Despite this relentless internal tide, I have built a beautiful life. I am a mother to two cherished daughters, wife to my wonderful and supportive husband, and I am surrounded by love and joy.

My rational mind knew I had a wonderful life, full of richness and connection. Yet, the low mood and the insidious whispers of PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder) weren't about possessions or belonging; they were a cruel, biological response, a tempest of hormonal messages within my brain that distorted my reality.

Then, a week ago, a profound shift occurred. I underwent a Total Abdominal Hysterectomy and Bilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy (TAH&BSO) for PMDD. It was a surgical solution for a condition that had, for too long, held my mental state captive. And now, seven days later, the silence is deafening – in the most magnificent way.

The negative thoughts, the ones that clung like burrs to every "what if" and every "if only," have vanished. They haven't simply lessened; they are gone. It's an absence so profound it's almost disorienting. Don't misunderstand, I still experience feelings, strong ones even. When a challenge arises, or something saddens me, I feel the natural pang of tears. But the catastrophising that once led inevitably to desperate, dreaded thoughts now culminates in solutions, and tears of release, not despair.

It is freedom. A freedom I never truly believed was possible. The knife, in this case, has indeed cut away the source of so much suffering, releasing me from decades of a battle I didn't fully understand. The storm inside has passed, leaving behind a serene, quiet space where my mind can finally just be.

As a clinician, with a special interest in women's health, I feel ashamed and embarrassed to admit the madness of my life. The thoughts that I would experience daily, that I kept quiet. Concerned if I acknowledged them aloud, that I would either act on them, or end up sectioned. A threat to myself.

Imagine the joy, when after years and years of suffering, you find an answer. An explanation, and rationale behind the thoughts. Then eventually, the right specialist who listened to me, respected my health concerns, came up with a plan, and delivered. My gynaecologist, Mr ElGizawy. The surgeon who has given me a new quality of life that I didn't know was possible. Has provided me with a relief from myself.

It's emotional, and humiliating sharing this truth, but if it resonates with one person struggling with Severe PMDD and provides some 'ahem' moments, then my mission here is complete.