Damned if you do...Damned if you don't.

Scenario:
The dudes want to go to the zoo.
"We'll go tomorrow morning." (all 4 of us: Mom, Dad, Dude & Lil Dude).

The next morning:
Mommy's tired. Mommy wants to go to zoo but won't get out of bed.
Mommy says she'll try to come. Mommy's anxiety is up.

30 minutes later:
The Dudes are ready. Daddy's ready. Mommy's still in bed.

What would you do?

If you leave with the Dudes, Mommy gets sad that you went without her.
If you stay, waiting, the Dudes get royally antsy, wanting to go to the zoo.
If you wait for Mommy, knowing her anxiety, how long will she last before bringing the excursion to an abrupt end, not being able to handle the crowds, the smells, the walking, the noise?

Then everyone is sad.

What'd I do?

I left. I took the boys. Didn't think twice.

In my mind, majority rules. They want to go. So do I. If Mommy really wants to come, if she really and truly believes her words that she "really wants to go", she'd get out of bed or at least show some initiative to engage in the adventure. She didn't.

Waiting for something to happen which, pessimistically, I believe won't occur, is common. I cannot sit around waiting, letting opportunities for the Dudes pass them by. In good conscience, I can't let them be held hostage by her emotional turmoil.

When she's fighting the darkness, battling her emotions, when she says, "I'll be up to help with supper / bedtime / bath / laundry / etc..." I know these to be words of hope, not reality.

I understand why she says it, I appreciate her interest, but I know it's false hope. It sucks...for the Dudes, especially. The number of times I've heard "...but Mommy said she would..." or "where's Mommy?" or "is Mommy not feeling well again?"...those are tough icebergs to navigate around emotionally for me. Because they notice. They see. They hear. They know.

The other night, during prayer, Lil Dude said "God Bless Mommy again" - I asked him why it was important to pray for Mommy again: "Because she's sick...she's not good...and that makes me sad."

Cue the tears.

I tried explaining that Mommy's not feeling well, that she still loves him very much and wishes she could read to him before bed...but he curled up into my chest and went to sleep...

It's her initiative that I miss. Showing the gumption to get off the couch, put down the phone and help...instead, when she comes out of her fog, it often segues into a depressive conversation listing all the things that DIDN'T get done over the past few days, completely ignoring the buttload of things that WERE accomplished. Lunches made. Dishes done. Kitchen cleaned. Laundry done, folded and put away. Groceries obtained. Boys bathed. Suppers organized for the week. Bills paid. Bins emptied.

But all that's secondary. If I remind her about everything I did while she was in her haze, she gets even MORE depressed, because I've made her feel worse for what little she did.

So I keep my mouth shut.

However, coming home from the zoo (or wherever exciting we've ventured) is a different story. I can tell she puts on a brave face when the Dudes relay all the things we saw, did, ate, explored and learned. I can tell she WANTS to see the pictures...but, at the same time, doesn't. It reminds her of why she didn't go. She retreats into the cocoon of her mind and, for the better part of the rest of the day/night, she's in a slump again.

All because I took them to the zoo.

I love her with all my heart...but the reality is that she's become secondary to the Dudes.

My thinking, in pseudo-dilemmas like these is: you handle you, I'll handle everything else.

But I wonder about the future...what will THEY remember?

Will they remember us Three Dudes going places (Da Boyz @ Da Zoo)?
Do they wonder why Mommy doesn't come with us? (Honestly, they don't often ask, when they're surrounded by animals & the smell of poop!)

Will they remember Daddy as someone who took them to the zoo or as someone who didn't have the time to play with them around the house because he was too busy making lunches, doing laundry, cooking supper, getting groceries and other things necessary for the four of us to function?

I fear the latter.

I want to care for her...but I need to care for the boys. It's a difficult conundrum.

When Dude was born, there were complications. The doctor said, very clearly, "you can stay here with your wife or go with your new son. It's one or the other."

I chose the Dude.

It's the not knowing that sucks.

IT'S THE NOT KNOWING THAT SUCKS.

ME: "What are some things that make you happy?"

WIFE: "Work definitely...and having some alone time...and the kids - they make me happy, too."

Not even an honorable mention...or an afterthought...I didn't even dent the radar of things that make her happy.

It was like a swift kick in the crotch with a steel toe boot.

My list, (which I explained during our grown up supper at a real restaurant without the kids) included the following: "cooking...just the wide eyed look of orgasmic delight when you walk in the house and smell the roasted garlic or spices, makes me happy; the boys...especially when they help out in the kitchen while cooking for mommy; music...which is no surprise..."

I thought about trailing off as I saw her anxiety level rise but I didn't, telling her that a lot of my happiness comes from the interaction and reactions I get from things I do beyond myself.

I ended the conversation with a simple statement: "I didn't even make your list." (then proceeded to finish my beer in awkward silence.)

It's the not knowing that sucks. Not knowing if it'll be a good day or a bad day. Not knowing if, with each passing hour, the mood will stay constant or change drastically...like a weather pattern with a pending storm circling. The persistent threat of dark clouds unleashing their fury...for a minute...an hour...a week. Unlike meteorologists, those of us dealing with partners with PMDD cannot predict, from moment to moment, what moods the future holds.

It's not knowing if a simple request, comment, suggestion or statement will lead to a pleasant response or a result in heightened anxiety, a war of words, a cold shoulder or the silent treatment...

It's not knowing if she'll come upstairs to bed or if she'll stay downstairs, in front of the TV, playing games on her cellphone. It's not knowing whether she'll make it through the day at school. Yes, I think about how she's coping at work. How she's handling the stresses of the day. But then, I remember, work makes her happy.

It's not knowing if a simple request or question (could you take the laundry out of the dryer? Could you please start cutting the veggies for supper? Would you mind clearing the table for supper? What do the boys want for lunches at school tomorrow?) might set her off or heighten her anxiety or initiate a tailspin.

It's the not knowing if I'm doing enough, or if (in fact) I make her happy, if I'm keeping the wolves at bay, giving her the space and alone time she wants, needs, craves and requires. It's not knowing when she'll come out of her dark place. It's also the not knowing if she's doing enough for herself while she's hibernating in the basement or burrowed in the bedroom. It's the not knowing if, one day, I'll come home to a corpse.

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So, what do I do?

Firstly, I acknowledge there are outcomes I cannot control so I focus on those I can. As my wife says, I martyr myself. I err on the side of caution, believing that, if I cannot accurately predict a good day, it'll be a bad day. Therefore, I start the day accepting the multitude of tasks that need to be done - if she offers to help, 'great' - it's a good day. I have my list of things to do and it's become a routine (for the most part) in the morning (though, really, how many times must I tell the Dudes to 'put on their pants!').

I know many out there may be thinking "that's not fair to her" and that I should just ask for her help or give her set tasks to accomplish. But, seriously, why poke the bear? If I can do it, why not do it? Why rattle the cage of someone on the edge? Why look back in anger - at myself, at her - should the task not get done? Whether or not she appreciates it, whether or not she takes me for granted, is irrelevant - at least while she's embedded in internal chaos...but acknowledgement when she emerges from her hellish cocoon helps.

A friend said to me: do you think she's taking you for granted? is she using her PMDD to get out of doing stuff, knowing you'll do it instead? I had to stop and think. I wondered the same thing but, my hope and my faith is that she wouldn't do that to me - to us, her family. To quote Agent Scully: I want to believe.

(I'm in the process of writing a longer letter to our loved ones suffering with PMDD but, in the meantime, here's the beginning)

Dearest women, suffering from PMDD, 
       Letting us know that you see us doing stuff to help you and the family, (if, that is, you remember what we did to help or support), gives us the energy or life force to fight for you another day. I'm not talking grand gestures of gratitude...a hug, a thank you...hell, even a text expressing a sentiment of gratitude...something that makes us believe that our efforts for you are not in vain. 

      We are committed and determined to fight for you...will you fight for us?

As an aside, I find this song rather powerful, in expressing the sentiment many men have for their partners who suffer not just with PMDD but other disorders: War Paint by Madeline Merlo.

Madeline Merlo - War Paint (lyric video)