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Reality of PMDD
You wake up in a cold sweat from an unsafe dream.
Tossing and turning throughout the night feeling the judgement and shame from failure at simple tasks.
All eyes angry and disappointed.
You lay there in the early light still and quiet letting the sweat dry.
The night may be gone and the images erased but the fear lingers and grabs hold still.
You can hear them coming.
Far off in the distance the war drums sound.
It's faint now but you know without a doubt that the battle has begun.
Just as it did the last time and the time before that.
There is nothing you can do.
You must fight.
You get up and put on the clothes that feels like sandpaper.
So ill fit you want to shed your skin.
As the war drums get louder and the battle draws near you scream in anguish.
Not again, not again.
But they come anyway.
You don't know if you have what it takes this time.
Your body feels bruised and tired from all the previous battles and the restless night.
Your joints feel the weight of your past and your muscles seem like they might spring off your bones.
It's too much to ask this body, this mind to do it all again but you have no choice.
Everyone is counting on you.
Don't fail, there is no room for failure.
You must battle.
You must win.
You must persevere.
And so you do.
You pull out your dented armor
Your battle scarred sword and you exit your chamber.
The sun is too bright.
The battle drums are too loud.
Everywhere there is chaos.
You raise your sword and step into it.
No one will fight with you.
You have to do it alone.
No one ever fights with you.
Hold tight to your sword and pray there is another day.
Pray that you will make it through.
That you will rest your head again.
That the drums will quiet.
That the screams will leave your throat and the fire in your head dies down.
That your tense aching muscles can relax.
You pray you have enough strength again.
Once more into the breech.
It will all be over soon.
