There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from not being believed about your own body.

For years, I thought I was simply depressed.

I was only diagnosed with PMDD less than two years ago.

Before that, life often felt like living on a rollercoaster I couldn’t get off.

As a teenager, I was told it was depression. Later, I was offered antidepressants. But no one ever explained the possible connection between hormones, the nervous system, inflammation, the gut-brain link, or how cyclical hormonal changes could profoundly affect mental health.

At times, I tried to self-medicate just to feel more stable — to quieten the overwhelm, to feel normal, to escape myself for a while. When you’re repeatedly told, “You’re depressed,” it can begin to feel fixed and hopeless, as though this is simply who you are.

Take these tablets.
Manage it.
Live with it.

But I remember wondering:

Why do I feel this way?
What is actually happening in my body?
Is this medication helping me — or just numbing me?

I knew antidepressants can be life-changing for some people, but at the time, I worried about feeling emotionally numb when what I really wanted was understanding.

I wanted joy.
Relief.
Understanding.

Ironically, although I’ve often struggled with labels, the PMDD diagnosis helped me feel less lost, not more.

Because for the first time, something finally made sense.

No one asked whether there was a pattern.

No one asked whether things became worse at certain points in my cycle.

Even after finally learning about PMDD, I still experienced dismissal.

At one appointment in Spain, I mentioned my psoriasis because I wondered whether inflammation and hormones could somehow be connected. I also mentioned PMDD.

The doctor smirked slightly and said,
“Yes, PMS,”
before continuing to type.

And that was the end of the conversation.

There have been moments at work that felt unbearable too.

During long 12-hour night shifts in the UK, especially during my luteal phase, I would sometimes become overwhelmed and emotional from sheer exhaustion and hormonal distress.

Some of my male colleagues looked at me as though I was irrational or unstable.

I was often told I was:
“Too sensitive.”
“Too emotional.”
“Too stressed.”

And for a long time, I internalised that.

But PMDD is not simply being “too sensitive.”

It is a recognised condition involving a heightened sensitivity to hormonal fluctuations.

There is a difference between emotional weakness and a nervous system struggling under real physiological change.

What has helped me most hasn’t been being told to “calm down” or “manage stress better.”

It has been support.

Being believed.

Having people around me who understand that some periods of the month are genuinely harder than others.

People who don’t mock, minimise, or shame emotional pain.

Because the truth is, many women are carrying hormonal, emotional, and physical struggles while also trying to appear functional, agreeable, and emotionally contained.

And many are doing so without proper support.

Medical dismissal is not always loud or obvious.

Sometimes it looks like smirking.
Interrupting.
Minimising.
Failing to investigate.
Reducing complex suffering to:
“Just hormones.”
“Just stress.”
“Just PMS.”

What helps is education, research, compassionate healthcare, informed support systems, and spaces where women can speak honestly about their experiences without immediately being dismissed.

If you already have a strong support system around you, I’m genuinely pleased for you.

And if you don’t, I offer accessible reduced daytime therapy sessions for women who need support navigating emotional wellbeing, hormones, overwhelm, and feeling unheard.

Have you ever felt dismissed about your health?

Did someone help you trust yourself again — or were you taught to doubt your own experience?