When I go to the beach, I like to stand at the edge of the ocean, where the water crashes into the shore. I like to watch my toes sink further into the sand with each passing wave.
I attempt to lift my feet and am surprised by the amount of effort I’ll have to put forth to become un-submerged in the crashing momentum of the waves meeting the sand.
The surprise never diminishes, regardless of how many times I do this.
I realize this is what living with PMDD feels like.
For two weeks out of the month, I am standing at the edge of the ocean, where the water crashes into the shore. I can see it coming, but I don’t think it will reach me.
Surely, I’m far enough away this time.