When I was 24, I noticed that something wasn't quite right. I was snappy and took offence at the slightest little thing. My bosses would have a go at me over my attitude, and all I could do was say sorry.
When I came home from working abroad, I saw the nurse as I had lost a tremendous amount of weight, and they were concerned about me. As it turned out, physically I was very well indeed, and I commented to the nurse that I felt there was something seriously wrong. She didn't listen, and instead made me feel like a silly little girl and that it was all in my head.
I told my Mum my concerns and whilst she could sympathise, there was little she could do. Having suffered depression in the past, I can recognise signs of depression, but, this was something that I could not comprehend.
Over the years, I went from being weepy (you know like when you cry because there are no cheese and onion crisps in the cupboard!) to becoming nasty and violent. When I was ovulating and three days before my period, I became a monster. I distinctly remember it was the Queens Diamond Jubilee, and I was watching it on tv crying my eyes out and being very angry.
I took two diazepam to calm me down (which I was actually given for symptoms of irritable bowel syndrome believe it or not) alas, they didn't help, and made me so spaced out I couldn't talk or walk.
Another time I was talking to my boyfriend on the phone whilst he was at work. I was sat at the top of the stairs telling him I wanted to kill myself and crying so hard I was retching. My boyfriend stayed with me and managed to calm me down, but, it took a long time.
There have been more occasions of this nature, however, I am sure you can see the pattern emerging. Most recently, my boyfriend has had to restrain me so I wouldn't pick the knife up that I was trying to grab, as I was so utterly in despair that I wanted to end it all.
When I turned 27, things were only getting worse. I was alienating my family and my poor boyfriend didn't have a clue what version of Lindsay he was going to encounter when he saw me. As you can see from the picture, I am a generally happy person, but this thing was robbing me of my life and my relationship.
In a last ditch attempt to get some help, I went to see my GP. He was brilliant, and recognised that I did indeed need help. He prescribed Citalopram to be taken from day 15 to day 28, as a trial to see if this helped and immediately diagnosed PMDD. I realise that not all GP's are as helpful as mine is, however, if you are know something is wrong, please tell them.
I have been on these tablets for approximately eight months now and, there is a difference. I do still have bad days, but, it does seem to be getting better. I suppose the purpose of me telling you this story, is, I don't want anyone to feel the way I did.
There is help out there, and PMDD is recognized as an illness, and not just something to be brushed aside, and dismissed as PMT. Please don't feel like you have anything to be ashamed of, you don't. I refuse to let this ruin my life and my relationship, and I really hope my story brings comfort and more importantly help.
Lindsay, UK x
If you would like to share your story, please contact Cat.