It's Good to be Home: Reflections on PMDD, Mental Health, and Music
To preface, this post is going to be about my mental health, specifically PMDD. Why in the world am I writing something on a website about music that doesn't hardly mention music? Well, I debated whether to even post this, but I find that I gain a lot of insight about myself through writing. To be successful as a musician, I need to first be able to succeed at just living life. My mom and my therapist have repeatedly told me, "if you're not meeting your base needs, how can you successfully do anything else?" So, in a weird way, this blog is still about being a musician - just a part of it that's not in the spotlight. I hope that some reader out there feels seen when they read this. Or maybe it's just an opportunity for you to know me better. Either way, I hope you enjoy :)
Well, it's been a heck of a semester, and it's only halfway done. Things have been crazy busy and stressful and... kind of crappy. Life just sucks sometimes, making it hard to find the joy in daily life. Being a 20 year old, full-time student, 5 part-time job holder, multi-instrumentalist, perfectionist, anxiety-ridden, depressed human being is hard. But hey - it's who I am, and I do my best to love it. As I'm writing this, I'm sitting at my home-home in rural central Kansas in my comfy PJs, in a very soft hoody (that I stole from my dad's closet), sipping coffee out of a cute mug, halfway watching one of my comfort shows (30 Rock), and surrounded by two loving family pets (Laci and Ringo). If now is not the time to do some self-reflection, I don't know when is! Alright. Let's do this.
My mental heath struggles started all the way back in sixth grade. Back then, I had a lot of anxiety issues and a sprinkling of depression, but it was fairly on-again-off-again. I was officially diagnosed with anxiety my senior year of high school, depression my freshman year of college, and PMDD about 6 months ago. I've worked with a therapist for four years, and used various medications to help manage my funky brain chemistry. But there's only so much medication and therapy can do. I have to actually apply what I've learned in therapy and truly know myself in order to navigate the maze of life! I'm still not great at it, but I'm working on it. Take, for example, my PMDD. For those who don't know what the heck PMDD is, here's how Johns Hopkins describes it, because they put it better than I could!
"Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) is a much more severe form of premenstrual syndrome (PMS). Symptoms of PMDD start during the week before menstruation and end within a few days after your period starts. These symptoms disrupt daily living tasks. Symptoms of PMDD are so severe that people have trouble functioning at home, at work, and in relationships during this time. This is markedly different than other times during the month. The following are common symptoms of PMDD: Depressed mood, sadness, hopelessness, or feelings of worthlessness; Increased anxiety, tension, or the feeling of being on edge all the time; Mood swings; Self-critical thoughts, increased sensitivity to rejection; Frequent or sudden tearfulness; Increased irritability, anger, or both; Conflict with family, coworkers, or friends; Decreased interest in normal activities; Concentration problems; Fatigue, lethargy, or lack of energy."
So... yeah. PMDD sucks. I like to think of it as my evil twin driving the vehicle of me, while normal me is getting carsick in the backseat. How in the heck do I regain control of the vehicle? Honestly, I'm still figuring that out, but here's what I've learned so far - in a continuation of the simile! First, let's christen my evil twin as September (haha) in an effort to make them a little more tangible and easier to identify. [Exhale] Here we go.
September is sometimes nice and gives me a heads up with a calendar invite when they're coming into town. Other times, their presence is felt via miserable cramps. When these indicators arise, it's time for me to call shotgun and take some meds in preparation for a wild car ride. By sitting in the front seat with medication coursing through my body, I'm no longer blinded by car-sickness. Once we're on the road, September becomes a mega road-rager. It's pretty embarrassing to be seen riding with this monster, so how can I get them to stop? Sometimes it's an easy fix: food and sleep. We pull off the road and stop to get some food with real nutritional value - protein and fruit/veggies are key! After that, we find a quiet place to rest. After their food and sleep battery is recharged, September is usually ready to calmly hit the road. Sometimes that isn't the case. This is where things get tricky, and the remedy strategies aren't so cut-and-dry. Often times, when September is particularly monstrous, I will invite another passenger along. The purpose of the passenger is to help real me. You see, September is invisible to everyone but me, and only speaks a language I understand. If the passenger tries to blindly wrangle September, they get thrown out of the vehicle and run over by the crazy driver. It's not a pretty sight. By chatting with real me about nothing of consequence, gossiping about September, or just holding my hand, the passenger reassures me that September is not the real me, and gives me the strength to keep September from going completely berserk. But bringing in a passenger is risky. If I can't express my needs, or if they don't understand, the whole situation gets worse. It can be heart-wrenchingly devastating. So I've been developing something new: an internal passenger. In this method, the passenger is the voice of reason, kindness, and goodness in my head. To make them more real, let's call them April (hehe). Nothing can rattle April, and they can also see and understand September. They also have a secret weapon - driver's ed style brakes! April is able to slow September down, making it easier for me to do some wrangling. April tells me the things September doesn't want me to hear - I'm a good person, I deserve to have a life, I am loved. By hearing these things, I realize I shouldn't be in the car with September. April slows the car enough that I can just step right out. With April at my side, we get off of September's dark and twisted road. We go down a path that's everything September's road is not: warm, bright, peaceful, beautiful. But September never leaves. Their road runs parallel to April's path, occasionally intersecting. Sometimes I ride with September, other times I walk with April. Sometimes I bring another passenger with me. It just depends. That's just the way life is, and the brunt of it is still ahead of me.
As I wrap up from my sister's walking desk (Side note: ideas are really starting to flow when I can walk and think! I might have to steal it from her...), I think I have found the string that connects this whole story with music. Music can't take care of you - you take care of you. We can use music as an outlet, but sometimes we put too much of ourselves into it and have nothing left for ourselves. Take a moment or a day or a week and step away from the instrument. Live life unscheduled. Find what makes you happy. Figure out what it takes to take care of you, because when you do, things become a whole lot easier.
Take care of yourselves this spring break, and you'll come back ready to take the last half of the semester by force.
Cheers,
August
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