Farewell Chef.

Anthony Bourdain is dead.
It hurts me...a lot...and I didn't even know him.
And yet, I feel, I did know him.

His books changed me. They changed my outlook on life. They altered the way I see food. They affected my relationship with the world. Seriously. His writing - and his shows - became a significant part of how I connect with others...and how food is more than just nourishment. How cooking could (and should) be more a spiritual experience than a chore. How the world is aching to be tasted - not just with the tongue but with the soul.

...and I never met him...

I can only imagine the pain inside those who DID know him...those who knew him well. Chefs. Nigella Lawson. Marcus Samuelsson. Eric Ripert. The guys from Joe Beef. Alton. Ludo. Alex. Zimmern. Andres. Sanchez...the list is endless. The tributes, the words, the stories are overwhelming in sincerity and emotion.

I could sit and wonder all day what would make him leave this mortal coil - abandon his friends, family, relationship with the world that surrounds him. Part of me wonders, as my wife mentioned, "Maybe the darkness of the world finally got to him. The negativity that seems to be growing day by day." He fought against it. He worked to shine a light on issues and places that are overlooked, underappreciated and misunderstood. He sought to brighten the lives of those he met, those whose food he ingested, savoured and relished.

And now he's gone.

And the world seems even darker now.

An Open Letter to Partners of Women with PMDD.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017


Dearest Partners of Women with PMDD,

First of all, let me be clear. This letter does not come with answers or solutions. This is not a "be all & end all" to the chaos of PMDD. Every situation for every woman is different. Ergo (a word not used often enough), no household is the same. After many conversations and emails with men and women around the world, I've realized a few common traits, however. There are similar feelings, circumstances, emotions, issues and experiences...this letter addresses and recognizes them. This note recognizes the real, true emotions and thoughts emanating from the souls of men (and women) coping with a partner with PMDD. This is not a happy letter to make everyone feel better...it's one that draws attention to the mindset reality of living with PMDD. This isn't about me. It's about all of us.

I know you.

You're tired. Exhausted. You feel drained of all energy - emotional, physical, spiritual. Perhaps you feel absolutely nothing at all. You're like a zombie, going through the motions every day. But you're used to it...it's who you've become. You don't like it - you wish you had more energy and lust for life - but you give yourself a daily pep talk to survive the day, praying that today might be better...and you're not even the one with PMDD.

You are constantly on edge. You never know when her hurricane will hit. Predicting how one day to the next will transpire is fruitless. Hour to hour, day to day...hell, even minute to minute, is a pointless exercise. You see her, you love her, you feel for her but you wonder, "what else can I do?" - you've already tried everything!

You've thought about divorce. You've thought about having an affair. You've questioned your life choices...and those thoughts scare the hell out of you. So why do you stay? Why do you remain committed in a relationship that causes you stress and, most likely, shaves years off your life? Perhaps it's because of the words, "...in sickness and health...'til death do us part..." or maybe you're a glutton for punishment or feel, deep down, you can fix her or save her. Possibly, you fear what she'd do if you left. If you have kids, my guess is, you're there for them, more than her.

You've probably heard from her, more times than can count, that she "needs to do (this) or (that) because it might help" - this may include taking a course, going for a run, spending a day or two at the spa, getting massages, nights out with her girlfriends, binge watching Sex & the City or Supernatural, spending a few days here and there away from you (and the kids)...but can you do the same? No. Can you just take off for a few hours and have the day just for you? Probably not. Deep down, you wonder, could she handle the kids for 3 days without me? Your/my gut says no. The time you have out of the house is, most likely, spent getting groceries and doing things that need to be done to make the house and your life a little better.

You don't get enough downtime and, when you do have the opportunity to sit back and chill, your mind's still racing. Most likely, you just want to watch something pointless or mindless, have a beer and fall asleep. The thought of watching a show that has deep thoughts, intellectual content or educational information further stresses you out because your mind can't relax...there's no shut off switch to settle your brain.

You probably don't hear "Thank you" or "I love you" nearly often enough...and, as for, physical expressions of love? Not so much. (or, at least, not like it used to be). But when SHE wants it, you must provide! Perhaps sex - or any form of intimacy - feels like a chore...another task to complete. Or perhaps, when it finally happens - a moment together, both of you in a positive, awake state of mind - it's a relief...an opportunity to forget about the trials of tribulations of the past few days.

You say words but may not mean them...or they don't have the same feeling behind them like they used to: "I love you" - perhaps it's said so she can hear the words but, your feeling behind them is different. "It'll be okay" - knowing, deep down, it'll get better for her but not for you. Her diatribes, constant needs, argumentative statements, vitriolic, mean words...you'll remember them and hold onto them and think of them all too often. You'll start to believe them - or, at minimum, question who you are based on her hurtful words. You say, "I'm here for you" but, perhaps deep down, you wish at that moment, you weren't. "

You question everything & constantly overthink.When you're sitting on the porch with her, having your coffee or glass of wine, and you hear her sigh heavily, you wonder if that's a sign of impending doom - something dark on her mind, or a coping mechanism to calm herself...or maybe she's just relaxing for the first time in awhile. In any case, you don't ask because "is everything okay?" or "what're you thinking?" or "something wrong?" might set off a chain of events you don't want to deal with.

You constantly look for ways to control your environment - from the way you schedule your day to what you cook for supper or how you organize things around the house. More often than not, when she's in her state, decisions are a further stress and amplify her anxiety. What do you do? You make all the decisions, thinking that'll make life easier for her. Yet, unfortunately, it doesn't often work out that way. Perhaps it's her response of "you should've asked/told me" or "why didn't you let me know?" or "if you loved me you'd have...". Friends may say, "damned if you do, damned if you don't" but, to you, it had to be done. Survival instinct kicks in and you do what you need to do.

On the good days, when she's positive, upbeat, full of energy, revitalized, you struggle to enjoy the moment...you don't know how long it'll last...you fear the bubble popping...you're still on edge and, most likely, get down on yourself for not being fully present with her. Even when you know you SHOULD be enjoying yourself, you can't.

You're not fully present on a good day. You're not fully present when you're supposed to be having fun or enjoying life. But you ARE fully present when you're surrounded by her chaos, negativity, anger, frustration and darkness. Think about that for a moment:

You're only fully alive when you're being torn down, when your life force is being given to someone else, when every moment of your day is spent making sure your partner (and your household) lives to see another day.

You probably mutter or mumble under your breath as you walk away from her...things you wish you could say out loud but, knowing the damage they'd do to both of you, respecting her mental state, you keep it to yourself, tucking it deep inside where the feelings fester and ferment. Maybe those words of resentment will go away..or, maybe they've established a symbiotic relationship with your soul. These periods of resentment...they grow in number as the years go on...your thought process dips its toes into the murky waters of ire more frequently and easily.

You're constantly seeking an outlet for your tension. Nothing seems to work. Perhaps you go to the gym but, for some reason, you cut your workout short because you're worried about her...or you're too stressed to even relax to workout fully. Or, maybe, you go for a pint with your mates but, you're not fully present...your mind is elsewhere, wondering if she's okay. And you cut your night short because you know you need your energy to deal with the next day.

You feel guilty when you do something for you. Whether a ball game or buying something online, you wonder how she'll react or what she'll think or if she'll resent your 'selfish' ways. So you begin doing less and less for yourself, channelling your energy into your family and her.

If you have kids, you wonder what they'll remember about life in the house, growing up. Will they remember how Mommy hardly slept in the same bed as Daddy? Will they remember how Daddy would always wake them up in the morning, get them dressed, make them breakfast, pack their lunches, cook supper, clean the kitchen, do the laundry, get the groceries? Or will they remember that Daddy didn't have enough time to play with them because of everything he did to make the house function?

You cry. Sometimes there are tears streaming down your face or sometimes you're crying on the inside. But, regardless, you're sad. You're upset - at yourself, at her, at a higher power, at anyone, at no one - yet you keep it to yourself. It's your burden. Perhaps you feel like you asked for this. Perhaps you believe this is your own private challenge. Know you're not alone. There are people out there to help. People are there for you. They want to help...they're waiting at your doorstep...it's up to you to let them in.

This letter is part vent, part affirmation. Maybe you've had some (or all) of these thoughts. Maybe you can't relate at all. In any case, you aren't alone. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, strength builds from pain. For whatever your reasons, your resolve to remain committed to someone struggling with the very fabric of being, is powerful. While my words may not be enough, you are a great person, standing beside someone who needs you more than words. You may not hear it enough or feel it or even believe it but your presence is an amazing gift - not only to her but to the universe. You make her world - and the world around you - a better place.

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)

PMDD & ZOMBIES:

PMDD & ZOMBIES

 "The Walking PMDDead"

I read a response to a guy who's coping with his partner's pmdd. (This was on a now defunct site, a few years ago). He said (and I'm paraphrasing here) that 'she sounds like a monster' and that he 'needs to protect himself' because 'she will eventually kill you' and how he 'needs to save his life' by running 'far, far away'. These parts stuck with me for a few reasons: 1) the Shrek reference to the land where all men should flee; and 2) how much it sounds like a message in a zombie survival guide. 

I have to laugh and come clean: I've thought about writing a PMDD survival guide for men, in the style of a zombie guide. Sometimes when my wife is in her funk, when her responses come in grunts or growls, when I sense the potential for lashing out, I think about that zombie show or movie, the one with the guy who keeps his friend or wife in the basement, even though she's turned, because he loves her and wants to help her.

(FYI: I'm talking about almost every zombie show or movie ever released).

Perhaps it's because he never had the chance to convey how much she meant to him and this is his penance. Perhaps he can't bear the thought of letting her go. Perhaps he's holding out for a cure. He has hope. He has faith. He believes in a better future. It's just him n her. No other people to rely on or deal with.

He's willing to live with the consequences of his choices. Most men wouldn't. Self preservation and all that - get the F outta dodge - run run away! But not him. He belongs with her. This is his place. Regardless of the imperfections or illness or challenges, he's willing to be with her. It may be draining, exhausting, at times dangerous, and, in all likelihood, incomprehensible to most other men...but it's the only decision that makes sense. He rises above the negativity, stronger and determined, willing to face each day with confidence and hope.

I'm not saying women with PMDD are zombies. But it enters my brain every now & then - the aggression (or potential for it); the sudden change in demeanour; the appetite for what her body craves and desires (and heavens help your soul if you don't have what she needs or wants); the darkness that's more appealing...and the need to remove humans from her vicinity (by any means necessary).

But then I think about my place. My unending hope for her - to not have to face the chaos within; my willingness to do anything I can to help her (even if it means leaving her alone, letting her be on her own); my stubbornness to always see or seek the good within her, despite the negativity; and my determination to give all I can (and am) to make her time in that dark place a little brighter.
-------------
P.S.

Should you have any questions, comments, ideas or simply need to vent or release some steam, my email is popculture007@gmail.com or on Twitter +Chef Jay (@popculture007). I also started a Facebook group to share thoughts and stories and words of support and advice: www.facebook.com/groups/757135324436497/

PMDD...from one partner to another...

Violence...It's NEVER okay. Assault is never acceptable. Physical Abuse must never be tolerated. PMDD must not be used as a justification or acceptable reason for assault, abuse or violence. If there's violence in your relationship, things need to change. Communication is key. Intervention may be necessary. An emotional discussion is of utmost importance.

Yes, my wife had aggressive tendencies earlier in our relationship. Yes, there have been flare-ups over the years. But we talked about it then and we're STILL talking about it...and it's not easy.

My wife has worked her ass off trying to control those aggressive urges. She said that, having kids, seeing them in her PMDD haze, lessens her potential for unleashing the beast within. However, it increases the likelihood of her hibernating in the basement for hours on end. It's a Catch-22. The kids want to see her but she doesn't want them to see her in that state. She wants to be involved in their weekend shenanigans but fears what might happen should another wave of darkness roll in.

How do we deal?

First of all, we have an agreement. When there's too much Dude chaos, when they're sending her anxiety through the roof, when the stimuli of us is too much, she goes downstairs. She burrows. I'll check on her when I can, asking a simple question - do you need anything? If the answer's no, I leave her, returning to the kids.

When she says to 'leave me alone' or 'go away' or 'get out', I do.

When she says she doesn't want anything, when she tells me she needs her space, I give it to her.

However long it takes, I don't bug her or inundate her with questions or hugs or kisses.

In the nicer weather, she goes for a run. There are days where, she'll walk to the front door in her running clothes say "I'm going for a run" and leave. As she goes, so does the dark cloud that surrounds her.

Self preservation is key. For you and her.

It's hard as hell to see your partner shattered or in a world of hurt. It's even harder to hear her tell you to leave her alone. And it'll seem like the hardest thing ever to walk away, to let her be, to actually hear and accept her words.
--------------------------------

What's my story?

Early in our relationship, as we developed mutual coping mechanisms for her bouts of PMDD, we were very clear with each other - if she wants something, she needs to ask for it. I can't read her mind. If she says she doesn't want anything, I can't get in trouble for not getting her the chocolate bar or ice cream or chips she was thinking of! Either she says what she wants or gets it herself.

Secondly, when she would tell me to leave her alone, I would. No matter how much I wanted to help, I walked away. I went to Starbucks. I went to a pub and watched sports (and ate free peanuts). Yes, I worried. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I struggled to concentrate on the game. But, we had another agreement: when she wanted something or needed something, she'd text me with specifics.

I don't know what went on in our apartment (and later our home) while I was out. Screaming? Yelling? Hitting pillows? Punching walls? I know there'd be stuff on the floor that wasn't there earlier but, I didn't ask anything. I came in, gave her what she wanted (chocolate? hug? bag of dill pickle chips?) and, usually, said nothing. I let her speak first...let her initiate the communication. That told me she was ready to talk...that she was coming out of her state.

Yes, sometimes there's aggression - mostly verbal, with a few bouts of physical over the past 12 years. But I equate it to holding a dog or cat or any animal that doesn't want to be held. It will bite, it'll lash out, it'll hiss, it'll protect itself. I was too close to her. I was asking too many questions. I was giving a hug that wasn't wanted...it just amplified her anxiety and exacerbated her stimuli. I was making things worse by ignoring her words. I didn't listen when she told me to leave her alone. I thought I knew what she wanted. I thought I knew better than her. I couldn't accept that I couldn't fix her. (I know better now!)

So, now, it's on her. If she wants help, she needs to ask for it. If she needs something, she needs to ask for it. If she asks for nothing, that's what she gets. I know, it sounds heartless & mean. But it works for us.

TALK! Honestly.

Finding out what works for you is hard. It takes a lot of time and a lot of patience and a lot of communication. Honest communication. Talking about your feelings. Express the emotional toll her PMDD takes on you (how it drains you, scares you, how you want so much to help but don't know how). Being blunt, straightforward with your ideas. Have a game plan going into the conversation. What do you hope to get out of the conversation? What would make things better for you - tell her how hard it is to see her like that, tell her you want to help her but don't know how - but, for heaven's sake, listen to her words. If she says, in those moments, it's best to leave her alone, do it. If she says, in those times, to put a chocolate bar on the bedside table, have a stash handy to appease the PMDD beast. If she says she wants a punching bag, use a pillow (FYI - those body pillows are tough, sturdy, can be bunched up and squeezed to death!). Lastly, talk about what the two of you should do next time...for the next flare-up. Don't think long term - look at the next month (because, dear friend, the PMDD beast WILL return). I can't lie - it's been 12 years and we're STILL re-evaluating our coping mechanisms!

Say 'I love you' and 'I'm here if you need anything' or 'I'm sorry I can't do more' or 'I'm amazed at your strength to deal with it'...let her know that you recognize her struggle. Words do help. She may not say anything in response, but your words may just seep into her subconscious, letting her know you're there.

Be prepared - somethings will work, many things won't. Get used to it. You're not a failure for trying. Your relationship will be stronger BECAUSE you tried. Your commitment to her is - and always will be - a work in progress. What's successful one month, may fail epically the next. It's okay. The more strategies or outlets or possible solutions the two of you develop, the better off you'll both be.

Our List: (I can't say these will work for you but it'll give a little insight into our realm)...this is still a work in progress and changes with every bout: she plays piano, running (when it's actually nice out), dill pickle chips, Downton Abbey, Star Trek: TNG, Lindt Chili Dark Chocolate, her phone (Candy Crush & some Choose Your Own Adventure games), pillows & blankets (to create her cocoon), nachos, Supernatural, really bad movies like Sharknado 3, disaster documentaries...all of these came through trial and error...basically, stuff that requires little thought, minimal emotional investment (on her part) and can be controlled by her.

Good luck on your quest. Both of you are stronger by your willingness to help. You can do it!

PS - my email, should you have questions or suggestions, if popculture007@gmail.com

PMDD, Totem Poles, Baobab Trees & a Water Pitcher.

PART ONE: You are a Water Pitcher.

A teacher friend of mine gave me this to chew on:

Every morning, you are a pitcher full of water. As the day goes on, as you help, guide, teach, listen, cope with your students (and others), you give some of your water to them. You give of yourself to others.

At the end of the day, who refills your pitcher? How are you replenished?

(I jokingly responded, 'get more beer', which was met with an "I'm serious, Jay" look.)

For guys coping with partners with PMDD, it's a valid question. This is a draining, exhaustive process - for both of you.

With kids, it means having them to yourself - which can be fun, freeing and a great distraction. It also means handling their every need (if they're young) or schlepping them to hockey, soccer, baseball, sleepovers, scouts, playdates, gymnastics...the list goes on.

It also means, depending on the day of the week, handling getting dressed, breakfasts, lunches, suppers, snacks, bath time, bedtime...and all stops in between.

It also means, cleaning, laundry, groceries, cooking, disciplining, maintenance of the home...all while, often, tiptoeing around mommy who's not feeling well.

And all of this before you even think about stuff that YOU need to do...whether work or social or personal or professional...your priorities usually take a backseat to your partner's needs and, if applicable, your children.

PART TWO: Totem Poles.

(I don't feel comfortable appropriating an image of a totem pole for picture's sake.)

A friend said to me, when I explained my situation, "Wow, you really are bottom of the totem pole."

I know he meant it as third place or last place or an after thought. But I see it differently.

The base of the totem pole is:

• at eye height, giving it prominence and importance, so everyone can see it;
• usually the thickest part of the pole, the strongest part of the wood;
• the root of the family story upon which the future tales are built.

The base is the foundation, the strength, the power that holds everything up. It's firmly planted and rooted in the ground, the basis of the family.  

While totem poles have no linear structure or hierarchy to it's progression, the base is seen as having the highest significance. The 'low man on the totem pole' is something to be proud of. Embrace it, knowing that you are the grounded one.

PART THREE: The Baobab tree.

Also known as the "upside-down tree". Or, the Tree of Life.

A tree whose roots are above the ground, stemming from a huge, strong, thick and powerful base. It provides the nutrients and water to itself and the roots reaching for the sky. It stores the energy needed to survive droughts. It withstands the elements and remains standing and visible throughout Africa. It is a symbol of power and strength, upon which the fruits grow. Without it's energy, the roots do not produce its fruit.

Which leads me back to the water pitcher metaphor. The Baobab tree stores water to support the trunk in its branches that are firmly planted in the ground. This are the stores for the base of the tree, while the trunk holds water for the roots in the sky.

(I know, it's the whole upside down thing...which, in itself, is symbolic of our family life).

It's an important question to ask yourself: have you stored water for yourself? where do you go to replenish your water? how do you refill your pitcher?

What do you do for fun? What do you do for yourself? Who or what helps you regain your strength? Friends? Family? The gym? Reading? Writing? Sports? Cooking? Dancing? Hiking? Music (playing or listening or composing)? Whatever it is, embrace it. It's there for you. It's your time.

Need I say, avoid getting pissed drunk or any other potentially harmful behaviours? That won't help anyone or make things any better. It'll do more harm than good.

We support, we nourish, we strengthen. It may not always feel like it, and it sometimes is hard to believe or accept, but your strength as a human, as a partner, as a parent, will strengthen those around you...but never lose sight of the fact that you need an outlet to regroup, regenerate and nourish yourself, storing your energy for the difficult days that will, undoubtedly, arise.