Over the next severla months my symptoms worsen and new ones develop. My fatigue increases, random fevers arrive, and infections linger, robbing me of joy for days and often weeks on end. With each passing month, I seem to become more and more unwell.
Chronically naseuas and perpetually dizzy, I begin to spend a lot more time in bed. To fill my time I doom scroll social and binge Netflix.
As I watch the final emotional episode of Firefly Lane Girls, Molly pops in my mind. Our memories play in my mind like a funeral.
Splashing our feet in the Disney pond, laying by the pool. The time I got jizzed on by an overly friendly goat. Throwing her nation-wide baby shower and the look on her face when she realized how far we'd all come just to be there for her.
Drunkenly gambling in Vegas until wee hours of the morning. Our late night chats about life and entreprenurial dreams. Karoke nights and borderline bar fights. All the nights we spent working on her business until the sun came up. Hours and hours of brain storming. Website editing. inventoring and all the countless times I'd dropped everything just to be there when she needed me. Molly's sad eyes as we left Disney.
Her voice whispers in my mind. "I had a dream about oyu last night and it made me so sad. You had this blue hair, I mean the brightest of blue hair and I couldn't get to you. It made me so sad because I missed you so much."
It's then that my eyes catch my gaze hallowed gaze in the mirror, my bright blue hair framing my face.
How prophetic.
Her sprakling brown eyes flash through my mind and as they do, I can hear her infectious laugh, bouncing joyously down the hall.
That's when I break down in sobs.
As the way things ended, I'm not sure if we'll ever speak again or if there's really anything left to talk about, but what I do know is that I'll always love her, even from a distance and wherever she is, I hope all of her dreams are coming true.
As I'm wiping at my grief soaked tears, I recall one of the final conversations Molly and I had the year before.
"They finally diagnosed me with PMDD too," she had said.
I'd paused to soak this in because it made so many events simply click. So many moments and choices of hers made so much more sense upon this realization. I instantly just "got her" in a way that I didn't quite have a grip on before. The snarkiness. The panic. The paranioa. The irritability. It all mirrored my own.
And at the end of it all, PMDD cost us our friendship. A price that I don't think either of us was willing to pay.
#40 THE PMDD CHRONICLES - THE ONE WITH THE PRETTY EYE WRINKLES →
