When I was 16 I was placed on the contraceptive pill by my forthright mother.

This was, let’s face it, a wise decision, but it was also one that had various repercussions that took several years to properly comprehend.

Like most 16 year olds my emotions were temperamental. I was highly-strung, angry, and particularly unpredictable in response to my mother’s many sweet and helpful nuggets of wisdom.

She meant well, bless her. The problem was that I had long since accepted that she was placed on this earth solely to destroy me and obliterate every ounce of fun I could be having. So my emotional life was intense and unpredictable. But that’s ok – I was 16 .

However, one fine summer day, I succumbed to the maelstrom of hormonal soup poured over me by the much-hallowed contraceptive Pill... and it took me years to resurface.

Of course, I didn’t realise this at the time – I was hopelessly in love for the first time and presumed that my erratic behaviour and highly volatile state was due to that much mentioned-brilliance, Love. Some of it was, for sure (love’s a bitch, after all) but most of it wasn’t.

Time went on and nothing got better. I was forced into a dark well of depression, isolated and terrified that I’d lost my mind completely and would never know what happiness was again.

Admittedly, I was a typically over-dramatic 18-year-old by this point, but I think even dramatic teenagers shouldn’t be starfish on their bedroom floor for days on end, willing themselves dead just to stop the overwhelming apathy of their existence. Well, at least not without a favourite band breaking up or something.

It took another few years – precious years that should be filled with first experiences, and happiness never before nor since matched – until I finally realised that I was not quite as batty as I’d been acting.

That I actually had an excuse: as soon as I came off the pill I was in fact an ordinary, functioning human being.

The erratic emotions subsided. The lack of love for life passed. The world looked brighter. It was like landing in Oz after the greyness of Kansas. But it had certainly been one hell of a tornado.

Dr Alice Roberts published an article last week in which she discussed emerging evidence showing the devastating effect on emotions the pill can have.

As I read the piece I felt reassured that I had indeed been right... but also angry that nobody had taken me aside earlier and said that – for some girls at least – sometimes the pill isn’t the way to go.

So I urge you, if you know a young lady whose PMT symptoms are beyond the realm of normality – or who is, perhaps, just simply quieter or more sullen than they used to be – it may be worth taking them aside quietly and asking whether they’re on any kind of hormonal contraceptive.

Then encourage them to go to the doctors and change it for a different kind.

Most of us are a little volatile in our teenage years. Come to think of it, many of us are still pretty unpredictable into adulthood. But there’s PMT and then there’s OMG. Make sure you know which you, or someone you care about, is dealing with.

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