#pmdd
I used to have a coffee cup
That I carried with me
Every trip;
It said,
Menzies "...Zone".
Until,
One day,
It broke;
I found out that
I have PMDD.
And it broke
Me.
An “abnormal
Formation pressure”.
My utrs
As a
Low-pressure
System.
Damming,
That low air flow
Thunderstorms within
Me.
[A penchant child of God.]
Throw it at me—
Rain, snow, or ice.
AFP—that’s
Abnormal
Formation
Pressure of
Oil, gas, or water.
The conglomerate of metals;
The little stuff that follows
The “We are all star-stuff” and
“God did it” with His Big Bang
“God Particle”.
First—
Imploding, within the universe, then,
Finally,
Light; “The Founder of Light”.
AND MENZIES.
We are all star-stuff and
Re-formed universes within ourselves.
©2025EllenFinn
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 12:00 PM UTC
The shoreline stares back at me—
Almost tasting it,
A distant, golden line lies ahead.
The tide is like a clenched fist,
Tightening around my ankles,
Dragging me down even further.
I tell myself I know this sea.
I have swum through it before,
Charted its depths,
I felt its pull, outlasted it.
But today, the water rises,
My chest feels the pressure.
Salt and silence fill my mouth,
Despite my kicks, the current grows stronger.
The waves swallow my screams.
Like a storm, PMDD surges—
No warning, no mercy.
My ribs tear,
Its voice floods my mind—
Why bother fighting it? Let go. Sink.
I claw at the water,
Not from strength,
But from fear—
This time, maybe I won’t make it.
Rage consumes me.
I rage that I can’t trust my own body,
That my mind betrays me,
Dragging me under,
While the world above remains calm.
Even as I sink, somewhere—
I feel it:
The part of me that will not drown.
She remembers the taste of sand,
The heat of sunlight was on her skin.
She will not let go.
Not now. Not ever.
The shore is still there,
Even if I can’t see it now.
I will rise to meet it.
My power is inevitable.
Jan 5, 2025
Jan 5, 2025 at 8:48 PM UTC
There’s a beast inside of me
But she’s not who I am
And she’s not who I want to be
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 11:37 PM UTC
please, you have to understand,
this isn't me.
i am not my mood swings,
i am not my fear of talking on phones.
please, you have to understand,
this isn't me.
i am not my depressive episodes,
i am not my medications i must take.
please, you have to understand,
this isn't me.
i am not my fear of eating,
i am not my fear of being replaced or ignored.
understand, i am not my depression.
understand, i am not my anxiety.
understand, i am not my PMDD.
understand, i am not my BPD.
understand, i am not my eating disorder.
please, you have to understand,
this is me.
i am my love of cats,
and i am my admiration of everything musical.
please, you have to understand,
this is me.
i am a lover of stationery,
and i am a lover of every single living creature.
please, you have to understand,
this is me.
i am one who eats one too many brownies,
and i am one who cares for the entirety of the environment.
please, see past my mental disorder(s).
see the real me,
not just the chemistry in my brain.
please, see my lust for life.
see me beating stereotypes,
see me being me.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 12:31 AM UTC
I'm still miserable.
don't get me wrong -
there are pauses, and there are breaks.
there are beams of light, there are glimmers of hope
and there are days where happiness is so golden,
I can practically feel it salting on my tounge,
dancing in my brain
and some small part of me almost begins to believe that
things have changed -
it's going to be better now.
but of course, night is still well and alive,
in it's deathly gloom.
and of course, the petals always plunge through
in a sickening cold snap
and I am brutally reminded that
spring
is just season, not a way of life.
and although the why is given a different name -
boys, alcohol, displacement, bad job -
i find myself surrending to the currents
that is winter days, where sunlight
burns to cold, midnight ash within a few hours.
every few weeks or so, the darkness returns
pinching out the flame that i had spent so much time trying to reignite and
oh, not again.
but again and again, the night falls,
the stars spiraling out of place until
the cold and the heaviness have anchored in my chest
like a yawning need for eternal day -
I'm suddenly left wondering if i should even fight it.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC