Illness narratives are broken – and they’re failing women like me | Emma Hardy
People want my life with premenstrual dysphoric disorder to be told as a neat arc. But chronic illnesses are more like messy, looping spirals – and realising that gave me hope
There was a moment, deep in the throes of my illness, when I realised I was never getting better. There was no cure for me: only ways to manage. At that time I was not managing very well.
Of course, writing about my past self in this way gives the illusion that I was once in the throes of my illness and that it did get better. This is deceptive. I live with a chronic illness called premenstrual dysphoric disorder, or PMDD. It is a severe form of premenstrual illness that leads to depression, anger and even suicidal ideation. It rears its head in the week or two before menstruation then goes away. One week I’d be lying on my bedroom floor, unable to move, starting fights with my partner. Then my period would come and I’d be back at work, seemingly fine, and completely oblivious to the person I’d been mere days before. Notably, this illness is chronic and recurring. I am always in, or just out of, or about to enter the throes of my illness. It does not get better in any static sense.
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