Written by Beth McColl

I’d been suffering from Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (a severe form of PMS) for years before I ever even heard the term. Someone I followed on Twitter happened to share an article, which I happened to click on. Everything I read was immediately familiar- the monthly cycle of depression, intermittent suicidal ideation, confusion, paranoia, anxiety, fatigue, insomnia, back and pelvic aches, bloating, cramps, dizziness. Until then I’d assumed these symptoms were entirely normal and common – just a fun, cool gift from my fun, cool body. I thought everyone who menstruated experienced it more or less the same, and I was just handling it badly compared to my friends and peers. I was wrong.

PMDD is a hormone-based mood disorder that’s characterised by severe physical and emotional symptoms. Statistics indicate that around 1 in 20 women and AFAB people of reproductive age experience PMDD, though the actual figures could be a lot higher. Because there’s no definitive test (PMDD is a hormone sensitivity rather than an abnormality that can be tested for), and because our reproductive health is still woefully misunderstood and overlooked, it can be hard to get a diagnosis. Before getting help I had my thyroid checked twice, was told that my physical symptoms weren’t severe enough to indicate PMDD (they were), and was asked by a male doctor to ‘hang on a moment’ while he Googled it.

I got a Mirena coil fitted a few years ago, which has helped to ease many of my symptoms, but I can still have very rough months and there’s no telling what will happen in the future. Unsurprisingly, my dating life has suffered. Before getting help I felt afraid of my body and brain, exhausted by the effort it took to appear as though I was coping. Now I understand that my symptoms are temporary and I can weather the worst of them without beating myself up or deciding I’m unlovable. When I date I’m able to calmly explain what PMDD is, what it feels like for me, and what it means for the people closest to me. It no longer feels like a shameful admission, it’s just information. ‘I’m Beth, I’m a double Gemini, I take my coffee black and I have a hormone-based mood disorder that can make me feel really, really shit some months.’ Still a bit uncomfortable, but no longer terrifying. Here’s what I know about dating with PMDD.

You can’t pretend it’s not happening

It is happening! Trying to hide it from a partner for any reason will backfire, whether you’re doing it in an attempt to appear more fun or easy-going or simply because you don’t think they’d know what to say. It frames you as a problem for something that you didn’t choose and it also robs them of the chance to fully know you or to show you what they’re made of. As frustrating and shameful as it feels to have dates flinch or back off when poor mental health is discussed, what they’re really doing is revealing themselves as poor potential partners for you. Take the information. Leave the shame.

Because you need a partner who doesn’t just tolerate your PMDD

I spent years pretending that I was a lot more fine than I really was because I thought having a mental health condition was only acceptable as long as it was constantly out of sight and perfectly managed. I mistook other people’s exasperation as proof of my own wrongdoing. When I needed extra rest, or felt especially sensitive, or couldn’t get out of bed, I also endured the added shame of being ‘high-maintenance’. So rather than working to find ways to navigate my PMDD with the person I was dating, I shut down and took it out on myself.

Instead, find ways to identify your needs and communicate them

It’s been a game-changer for me to recognise I’m allowed to ask for specific support from the person I’m dating. This doesn’t mean using them as a personal assistant or an emotional punching bag, rather letting the people who care about us demonstrate and show that care. If you’re dating someone who doesn’t get periods and never has, they may not intuitively understand what you’re going through, and that’s OK. Let them know what it looks like and how it feels. Tell them what to look out for and what might help. For me, low-level irritability and fatigue are the first signs, and gentle support from a distance is really helpful. Brain fog comes next, and then my mood dips very sharply and very quickly. I can get confused about details, and work falls by the wayside. Telling someone that this is coming means they’re not baffled by my change in demeanour and they don’t take it personally if I’m slow to respond to messages or phone calls.

Don't beat yourself up if you need to cancel or rearrange a date

PMDD is rough. It can completely take you out of action for days or even weeks at a time. And it does suck to feel like you’re losing time or as though the dating pool is shrinking while you battle with your mental and emotional health. But you can and will find people who want to understand and who don’t behave as though you’re taking liberties for needing to prioritise your wellbeing. That kind of reciprocity is what most of us are looking for, PMDD or not, and refusing to agree to someone else’s warped narrative about what a person is allowed to ask for is a big step towards finding that.

But remember that it’s important to build a support network outside of romantic relationships

Having friends, family, or a mental health professional on hand during the roughest days of the month can really help. It really does take a village, and seeking a partner who will be unwaveringly and singularly there for you in your very worst moments is a recipe for disaster. Instead, ask more widely for support and continue to find ways to support yourself. Ask your partner what their limits are, what they can offer and then be honest with yourself about whether that’s enough. Because having PMDD doesn’t make you any less deserving of a wonderful, loving and shame-free relationship. I just wish I’d known that sooner.