Dating with PMDD
Learning how to date in my 30s, breaking the fear of being ‘too broken' to be loved
Welcome! If you’re new here, I’m Bailey Gillespie, a writer from Northern California. I write from the tension of suffering and joy, exploring the more tender places of life with God.
You might also enjoy My Life List of Books on Spiritual Formation, which gathers many of the voices that have shaped my faith. Thanks for reading and reflecting with me — I hope you’ll stay a while. <3
This piece originally appeared as a guest article at IAPMD.org in February 2023. The International Association for Premenstrual Disorders is a is a lifeline of support, information, and resources for those affected by PMDD and PME. Recently, the organization renovated their website, removing the blog feature. So, I’m reposting this here for others who may find hope in my story of moving from a place of isolation in mental illness toward connection. *I’ve made some minor edits but kept the integrity of the original piece.
As I blew out the candles on my 34th birthday, I’d still never been in a romantic relationship. It was my biggest insecurity.
Most of my closest friends were paired off by now, and many had their own families, yet all I had to show for my romantic life was a couple of makeout sessions with my college crush.
I’m sure many of you reading this have been here, too. In confessing my insecurity, I’ve found that being a late-bloomer to romance is more common than you might think. One of my biggest fears was that dating a girl with PMDD was too much for someone to sign up for. I began to believe I would never find a loving partner, but I longed for companionship. I prayed for it often at night through tears.
Life was still full and rich without romance—there were good friendships, family nearby, a book manuscript in the works, and meaningful adventures—but the deepest places in my heart craved intimate connection, including physical touch. I wanted a hand to hold on the hard days.
Just after I turned 34, I passed him in the parking lot. We’ll call him “N.” A young man with blue eyes and really hot tattoos parked his motorcycle outside of our local church and walked in, his thick hair overgrown with patches of gray woven throughout. We were attracted to each other from the beginning. But I soon learned he was ten and a half years younger than me.
WHAT??, I thought, a little horrified.
I probably would never have considered the possibility of dating someone so much younger had my lifelong friend not encouraged me to be open to it—especially since she had also dated, and then married, an amazing guy with a similar age gap. So, the following Sunday morning at 8:00am, I agreed to meet N for our first date at Shady Coffee & Tea. I was nervous, cautiously optimistic, and wildly excited.
Before asking me out, he read an article I’d just published about creative writing and living with PMDD. That alone brought me peace. There was no hiding. He now knew that my mental illness once caused me to break a car windshield with my fist, yet he still wanted to go out with me. This said a lot about him.
I had also been recently diagnosed with Graves’ disease, an autoimmune condition resulting from hyperthyroidism. I had no idea what to expect from dating and was afraid the cracks would start to show soon. After all, I had many bad days. But instead of running away, N remained steady and curious. He watched YouTube videos about my health conditions in his spare time (gotta love Gen Z), asked how he could support me, and surprised me by cooking an extravagant AIP-friendly dinner, complete with home-brewed kombucha since I couldn’t drink wine.
But we hadn’t had all the hard conversations yet. He’d still never seen me at my worst, and I was afraid our connection was too good to last.
After a month of dating, we made it official. It was an April twilight, during a “super bloom” at Folsom Lake when the fields burst into a blanket of purple lupine. Grateful and terrified all at once, at 34 years old, I finally had a boyfriend. And if that wasn’t weird enough, he was a 23-year-old kid with prematurely graying temples.
Perched on a boulder surrounded by wildflowers, we kissed as dusk settled in over the lake.
It turns out, dating (and later marrying!) N has been a deeply stabilizing experience in many ways, empowering me to stick to healthy rhythms and have more fun. It has also been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, upending my (at times) carefully curated social reputation. Before, if I got hit with a bad mood or a health episode, I could just leave a room with few questions asked. Now, I have another person and his whole community of friends and family to account for who may not understand in the slightest what’s going on inside. That part has been very challenging. You have no idea how self-centered and stubborn you are until walking that close with another person.
Some of the most beautiful moments in our early relationship were times of vulnerability when I felt safe enough to let N into my pain. When I cried on his shoulder and he held me close after finally coming undone, in person, for the first time. We’ve both seen the not-so-pretty sides of each other, and he’s been honest about how difficult that can be. But, so far, it has only drawn us closer together. We went to couples counseling before we were even engaged. And two weeks ago, he joined me for my therapy session which was a moment so sweet I’ll be thinking about it for a long time.
N isn’t the sensitive, artistic sort of guy I always imagined I’d end up with. He’s a left-brained former Army medic who loves mountaineering and deadlifting at the gym. But I have an inkling that two brooding, poetry-reading English majors would have been too much for this relationship.
Over the last year of marriage, he has become a more compassionate listener and I hope I’ve become more direct and honest—which he straight up told me he needed. I also now drink more water and eat more protein than ever before.
I once read a post in one of the PMDD support groups on Facebook written by a girl who declared she was done with relationships (including friendships). My heart broke for her. Yes, it can be exhausting trying to navigate close relationships alongside a mood disorder like this. This is especially true, I imagine, if you’ve been divorced or in an abusive situation and are learning to trust again. But I believe down in my bones that it’s possible.
I remember when my PMDD was still a secret. Now that I have language for it, there’s less shame and misunderstanding. Instead of overwhelming every part of life, these feelings are more manageable as I’ve shared them with those I love and trust and sought therapy. I even write about my experiences online, though not frequently. Because like any obstacle, it’s only one part of who I am. This openness has required a lot of vulnerability.
I don’t know what the future holds. But I’m grateful for the chance to grow and heal through dating and then marrying a good man, slowly rewriting my fears that I was too broken to be loved.
I am still unlearning this belief. And I know there will be more hard times ahead, but I’m ready for the challenge because I’m hopeful there is great beauty and goodness ahead, too.
If you feel isolated in your current circumstances (health, loneliness, etc), who can you open up to this week?
Connection is powerful and healing. It’s important to have at least one trustworthy person you can reach out to for prayer, accountability, or support. Consider how you might create a system for sharing your experience when things get hard. Maybe it’s a phrase or a special emoji. Maybe it’s as simple as texting, “Hey, today is a bad day, and I just wanted to reach out.” If they offer to call, let them call. It’s amazing how a short phone conversation can turn things around. (Even if they’re just listening to you cry.)
A Writing Prompt
Write about a time when you felt deeply loved by someone. Hold this memory close during the bad times.
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I loved getting to know you better through this post! Thank you for your depth and honesty, Bailey. I also read your other post about not having children and the desire to reproduce the gospel in your own life. I appreciated that one also - being a woman who has never desired motherhood but became one unexpectedly. Appreciate you opening the dialogue for the "road less travelled".
What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing. I live near Folsom Lake and I had no idea there was a lupine super bloom! I’ll have to check it out!