The Bakers Adventures

As I approach my luteal phase, I can feel the shift happening within me… like a quiet storm brewing. For anyone unfamiliar with PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder), it’s a hormonal condition that feels like being hijacked by an alternate version of yourself. I’m not dangerous (don’t worry), but I do become wildly out of character. Even I can’t always predict how I’ll react to things, which can make socialising or managing the demands of daily life feel overwhelming.

Over time, I’ve realised that the best way to manage this phase is to treat myself the way I would a child. I reduce temptations, avoid triggers, and set myself up for success wherever I can. I’ve learnt this all the hard way.. It’s not always fun or convenient, and it’s definitely a process, but the consistency in my journal entries and mood-tracking apps doesn’t lie. The outcomes are always the same, so ignoring the signs feels like walking straight into a trap I’ve set for myself.

What this means in practice, is that my diary empties out as this phase approaches. I strip away commitments that might leave me feeling overstimulated, misunderstood, or simply too drained. It’s tempting to fill those gaps when my calendar feels empty… like I’m being lazy or missing opportunities. But, I’ve learned to trust that my future self will thank me for the breathing room. If that’s not personal growth, I don’t know what is!

Meanwhile, life without Dan is finally starting to settle into a rhythm, though it’s still far from easy. I’ve found myself fighting little moments of resentment… not at him as a person, but at the peace I feel I’m not getting. I barely have a second to spare in the day between keeping the girls happy, juggling work, and managing the house. It’s constant. While I’m surprising myself daily with how much I can handle, I can’t pretend that I don’t envy the stillness Dan might have in his evenings or the ability to take a break without planning it days in advance. I am fortunate to have been given a few hours ( aside from working ) but I use this time feeling the shame of taking up peoples time.

But I know these feelings aren’t fair or true. He’s working hard, settling into a completely new life, and adjusting to challenges of his own. His hearing in one ear still hasn’t returned since his infection, and after several trips to the ENT department, they’ve confirmed that he has conductive hearing loss. He has almost no hearing in his left ear right now, which has made things incredibly frustrating for him, especially during his first impressionable weeks in a new job. Thankfully, they’re hopeful it’s treatable with either medication or surgery, but I know he’s worried about how it will impact him in the long run… and anxious about flying back in a few weeks if it hasn’t improved.

While we both have our own battles, I won’t lie ( as those who know me will know) and it’s hard not to feel the weight of mine when I’m managing everything alone. The girls are feeling Dan’s absence deeply, and it’s showing in different ways. Pearl has been crying herself to sleep most nights, clutching his jumpers as though they’re the only things keeping her grounded. She has these waves of grief that hit out of nowhere, and when they do, it’s like the floodgates open. Erin, on the other hand, tends to bottle it up until she’s already upset… hungry, tired, or overstimulated… and then she explodes, directing all of that frustration into missing daddy outbursts. It’s emotionally exhausting for all of us, and the gaps Dan has left in our home are impossible to ignore.

One of the hardest adjustments for me personally has been sleep. My sleep hygiene is completely out of the window. Dan was my cue to wind down… his presence naturally helped me regulate, whether I liked it or not. He’d go to bed, and I’d follow, which meant I had a routine even when my ADHD made it hard to create one for myself. Now, I’m all over the place. I fight feelings of tiredness, ignore my body’s cues, and often find myself working into the early hours simply because no one’s there to remind me to stop.

It’s also hard to sleep deeply when you’re the only one on duty at night. For the past 9 years, Dan and I have co-parented in the truest sense of the word. If the girls woke up unsettled, we’d both get up and share the responsibility. Now, I find myself lying in bed with one ear open, terrified that I’ll sleep too deeply and miss something. It’s not sustainable, but it’s where I’m at right now.

But even amidst all of this, there are moments of light. This morning, my wonderful friend Laura surprised me with the most heartfelt gift for the girls: personalised cuddle cushions, each with a photo of them and Dan. I cried, Laura cried and they cried receiving them.. all in the best possible way. To have a friend who not only sees your struggles but takes the time to support you so thoughtfully? That’s a kind of love I’ll never take for granted.

Life feels heavy right now, but it’s moments like these that remind me how much support and kindness surround us. It’s not easy… far from it. But, knowing we’re held by people who care makes all the difference. For now, I’m focusing on getting through each day, respecting my limits, and holding onto the small joys where I can find them. That, I think, is enough.