#first of all I got a PMDD diagnosis FROM A DOCTOR

[sametrainhome]

If I ever run a business I’m going to be incredibly generous with menstruation-related leave

[starwarskawaii]

You know, as a woman with fibromyalgia, PMDD, autism, ADHD, possible endo, a vagina that doesn't work right(long and annoying story), severe anxiety and depression, and probably other things that I forgot because most of these things cause brain fog and memory loss, I feel discouraged. A lot.

I grew up in an environment where it was always the wife. The wife did so much work to show appreciation for her spouse. That wasn't even really how my parents worked, but it was what I saw. I was supposed to be superwoman. And I failed.

I got to college and suddenly my cyberschooled body that almost never left the house had to walk across a campus every day. A small campus, thankfully, but still. It became obvious that what the world demanded of me was impossible. If I hadn't had a friend with fibro, God only knows what would have happened. They helped me finally get a diagnosis, even though it took years (they also helped me realize I was autistic, fun fact).

I have a husband who adores me. But I've never really stopped feeling guilty that he's gotten so much more than he signed up for. The hypermobility(told you I forgot something), the doctors appointments, the everything... Oh. And a brand new life-threatening allergy this year. You know, the usual

I feel so worthless. I *know* I am not. I will be the first to shout from the rooftops that your worth is not defined by what you "contribute." It never will be. My worth is in who I am and in doing what I can for others. But I am unsure if I can ever stop feeling broken. I mean, I *am* broken. That's just a fact. But I'm broken in a different way than my brain tells me. Maybe because a lot of what's broken is in my brain...

I want to feel whole. I want revolutionary treatments and doctors who listen and a good wheelchair and employers who accommodate me and people who understand instead of needing a lesson on disabilities and how eating better and exercising more(which I can't do and also have a job, btw) will not fix me. Every day it feels like there's another glare for supposedly not looking disabled and using a motor cart, or another dumb question of "what did I do to myself" when I use the cane I ALWAYS have accessible because I cane flare at a moment's notice, or being told "I still have my youth" as if my disabilities haven't stolen it from me. I desperately want to feel whole. But every time my disabilities progress, I feel even more broken and fractured. I can't have anything normal. Everything causes me pain. Clothing hurts me, because I have allodynia. My husband hurts me, accidentally, because I have allodynia. I can't even be intimate with him normally. He's patient and wonderful, but I hate that he has to be.

My best friend since I was a teenager, my MOH, my rock in the hardest times, is also disabled. She went through chemo in college. She's a living historian. She's been in a small movie. She does it all. I can't help but compare myself. Me, who barely manages to hold down a job where I sit most of the time. Me, who can't even maintain my relationships. Me, who dropped out of college because I had a breakdown. Me, who feels like she's accomplished nothing, and was always told she'd do so much. She never makes me feel like I am less than her. I do that. She tells me I'm doing great, better than I know. She's right, of course, but it sure doesn't feel like it.

I'm not really sure what the point of writing all this down is. I suppose I hope it will help someone else feel seen. You are seen. You are understood. Even if you feel very alone. I hope your holidays are good. I hope your treatment goes well. I hope things get better, for all of us. I hope more insurance CEOs die

[cleopatrachampagne]

i’m so sorry you’re going through this. there’s a quote in this one movie (gothika i think) “no one believes you if they think you’re crazy.” i’ve fortunately avoided ever being institutionalized but am fighting like hell atm to get some sh!t removed from my medical record after learning my “bipolar disorder” was adhd with a sprinkle of pmdd and just that one term in all of my charts) and i never was even properly diagnosed; the psychiatrist who diagnosed me at 8 years old said it was his ‘best guess’ and so i was medicated for it and branded with it on that). i have ptsd as well so even w/o being institutionalized or a history of self harm the doctors may as well be looking at a big, red, ‘crazy’ stamp on my charts.

but i think we feel so afraid to argue because denying your diagnosis is a cardinal sin and can make things so much worse. when i was in middle school the doctors believed i was faking seizures when in the hospital for an unrelated disorder, giving evidence that my chart said i had bipolar and “bipolar girls fake things.” i was lucky that my mom fought them tooth and nail to properly help me because had they not discovered my morphine allergy causing the seizures i could have died or had permanent paralysis issues. every doctor i’ve seen has so automatically jumped to the “crazy” card for me that i stopped fighting back. i haven’t been back to an er since 2018ish when my dumb@ss friends, girlfriend and i got way too drunk on ron ron juice from jersey shore. while the doctor was helpful, they all were discharged after brief monitoring and being given a pamphlet on substance abuse. the social worker i received didn’t give me those same pamphlets. he saw that stamp on my chart and kept asking if i was attempting to kill myself. i mean, only if getting foolishly wasted at a concert with my gf and friends is attempting to kill my self, but he heard ‘gf’ and it was like something clicked in his head. i was forced into a psychiatric hold and they told me to get a lawyer; he had decided that because i’m gay and have a history of mental illness that i was trying to kill myself. it was bafflingly transparent even in my panic and hangover. no effort to hide that the “crazy stamp” and my sexuality were his sole reasons for trying to institutionalize me. i waited for 26 hours, silently crying and praying. anything i did could be more fuel to the his fire. finally, the evaluating psychologist arrived and discharged me in under five minutes.

please forgive me for adding on my own two stories to the pain you’re enduring, i don’t mean to detract from it, but i hurt for you so much and it seems like people who haven’t been ‘branded’ have trouble getting it. it took me months to get properly seen for arthritis that i could have had help with earlier but in my experience whenever i had an injury that was below the level of compound fracture the doctor decided to chalk it up to me being crazy and call it a day. no help for my pain, and a lot of humiliation.

not to mention that this kind of bullshit people with any mental health record/diagnoses put up with is why so few of us challenge a diagnosis. first my obgyn diagnosed me with pmdd which even then i felt didn’t give me the confidence to speak up but as soon as my current (first genuinely good psychiatrist i’ve ever had. i started seeing them at 6 years old and am 27 next week) figured out my adhd diagnosis i was still scared but for a long time i felt i wanted to be retested for the bipolar. the first time i asked a (different) psychiatrist if it could be a misdiagnosis i brought in my mom to back me up which only made it worse when the psychiatrist decided to shut me up by talking about how the saucy photos i sent my fiancée (not even fully nude, i was 23 years old too) was evidence of hypersexuality and accused me of going off my meds because i thought i knew better than my doctors. but my current psychiatrist listened, made a plan and a few months later i have proper medication for adhd, an appointment to soon induce menopause and a lot of anger at how poorly “crazy” people are treated.

i’m sorry about your pain and also i’m sorry that you have to deal with this bullshit. even with the progress i have even once i get the misdiagnosis off my charts i still have the forced hold because of that social worker who singled me out, i still have write ups from doctors who didn’t read past my mood stabilizer meds (that i actually feel much better now that i’m safely weaned off of).

how are we supposed to trust these professionals with our lives and safety if they don’t trust what we say bc of stigma against any whiff or word of mental health issues?

i’m so sorry about what you’re living with too. i’ve had pain interfere with the basics too and it strips away autonomy and the things we love in a way that i feel like not many people seem to “get” and on top of that already miserable situation you have to deal with medical professionals who use “psychosomatic” as a get out of work passcode.

i wish i had advice and wish i could help you but even though i’ve made some steps i’m in a similar situation and all i can offer is solidarity and a sympathetic shoulder if you ever want to talk or rant and rage. 💞💞💞

Dear gyns, I'm here to share some despair.

If you've followed me for a while, you'll know that a few months ago, I've injured my neck, and had very limited movement from then on - I can't walk for longer than 15 minutes, I can't run, can't lift anything heavy, can't sit for a long time, I can't even sleep with a pillow, I have to lie down on a flat surface. I injured my neck by falling off a tree, and then carrying heavy loads of chestnuts, or at least that's where the pain began.

I've had a CT and it showed very minimal results, and I had to wait for 2 months to get seen by a specialist - and this exam was today. The woman asked me a lot of questions, some of them personal, about my family, employment, living situation - and checked if I could move my neck in all directions, which I could. It was continuous activity that would trigger my pain.

And then she decided that the pain was from psychological cause and told me to go a psychiatrist. I was stunned and barely managed to hold back tears.

She wrote her own opinion which included 'unmarried', like it was a symptom of psychological illness, and told me to ask psychiatric help. I rebelled and tried to explain, that I already do experience psychosomatic pain, but this is different, it's caused by movement, I can feel it while walking. Then she said she would, just in case, let me take a MRI, but she's confident it wouldn't show a thing, and then I should go and seek psychiatric help.

I'm now worried to death that the MRI would show nothing, and I would be left in this pain all to myself. I don't know what is wrong, I don't know why my neck hurts this bad, but it's a world away from other psychosomatic pain I experience (which is, pain in all my muscles and back, pain in my joints, and it goes away when my psychological state is good! On good days I can be fine! Neck pain does not correlate with my psychological state, but with movements, impact to my body. I am not fine on a good day.).

If I could get appropriate psychiatric help, I would, and if it would resolve the injury pain, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but there's nobody in this country who would diagnose me with ptsd or other disorders I have, they're not believed to be true disorders for women yet. I'm scared and don't know how to proceed. I'll get the MRI, but if it shows nothing, and my pain is still there, do I just live like this? Without being able to take a walk, or lift a bag of flour? Without running, or roaming the forests, without being able to carry water to the garden?

I am falling depressed, this is more than I can deal with.