Run away, run away from the pain…
Run away, run away from the pain…
Been a tiring day today and lagging behind this afternoon, need a little adrenaline boost, feeling flat.
I’ve been having difficulties with a co-worker for the last 4-5 months, and as of late it has come to ahead, to the point that i lost sight of my emotional control last week and spend several hours sobbing in the bathroom stall and then in the numerous gift shops I could find in and around work to hide in. It was no comfort that this was highly visible to the executive team at work and the damage to my self esteem when I have to work hard enough already being the only female in a very male dominated field to now exhibit a female weakness.
To my kudos, it wasn’t to the perpetrator, to him I managed to be more mad than sad, an emotion that for my BPD is like feeding catnip to a cat, straight to the head. After the several hours I did hitch the big girl pants back up and went on as normal, which doesn’t mean necessarily that things are normal. Glaring example of that was getting up today and not wanting to go to work. I amy have my grumbly grousey day but I don’t mind work, but the control needed to stay wary of this co-worker drains me. It’s enough to manage my day to day, but the extra pressure now to have my force field on the entire time at work is bumming me out, this was one of my positive things in life and it’s becoming a potential trigger spot.
I saw my psychologist and she was the one that concurred that it is an ever present trigger and I had to try and bounce anything of as soon as possible and not let him in at all. Case and point, more work. This particular individual is akin to having a bratty 6 year old next to me that cannot cease with the barbs and taunts, I upset the bully and now the bully needs to re-claim his ego.
My boss is doing a great job of trying to tamp him down, none of this is of my doing, but unfortunately this is adding flame to the fire, when he’s around it’s a deceptive calm, once he leaves its feeding time.
I don’t have a solution right now but I dread the next 2 weeks when everyone in my office is gone but the two of us. The agitation is starting to build, I want my workplace back. This must be the feeling people have when their home has been burgled and you feel violated, your safe place defiled.
Although health care providers may not take the threat of suicide seriously in patients who have BPD, these patients are often serious about suicide. Long-term studies indicate that compared with controls, patients with BPD have an 8% to 10% increased risk of completed suicide, which is comparable to that of patients who have MDD and schizophrenia.2 Moreover, minor overdoses frequently represent ambivalent suicide intent, and episodes of non-suicidal self-injury are markers for suicide risk and predict future suicide attempts.3,4
Conscious “attention-seeking” behavior is rare, although both patients and health care providers may attempt to frame suicidal behavior that way. As with Ms A, patients may minimize the seriousness of their intent, stating it was just “attention-seeking,” or “I was just trying to sleep,” making it easy for health care providers to question the validity of their patients’ actions.
On the other hand, not every gesture or threat is an indication for a prolonged inpatient hospital stay. Patients may threaten suicide as a way of obtaining or extending hospital stays. A study by Gregory and Jindal5 of 100 consecutive inpatient admissions showed that factitious production of suicide ideation, gestures, and threats was common among women with BPD at the time of discharge. Suicide threats and behavior served as a means of justifying the seriousness of their condition to providers, and to themselves. Given this information, is the underlying message that we should take suicidal ideation and behavior seriously, but not too seriously? How can we understand suicide risk in BPD?
I kind of blew my last blog to shit. I was doing so good, keeping that even line, taking it slow, and one trigger and I was blown out of the calm straight into the waves. I am working hard to pull it in, reel in the ugly but it’s fighting me hard to get out. It all came from such a silly, stupid altercation with a co-worker who has been a constant thorn in my side from day one, a bully. To have someone so meaningless shatter the fragility is compounding my instability.
As we know, I am not a combative or argumentative individual, I know those emotions are crack for my BPD. As much as I can, I walk away, I diffuse or I find the merit. But even I can be pushed only so far, and working in an office where I cannot walk away and have to interact does not help. I hold the high road and I have done my best to keep clarity, to no avail today, I guess when the docs said i would be fragile on returning from my trip they knew what they were talking about.
My desire to have a drink earlier was so strong, tamping that down was a heroic feat in itself. I am mad at myself for not being strong enough, I am mad I cracked, I am mad I am unstable, I am mad because it has now thrown my day (and I hope just my day) into a mess that is now setting me back in work and emotionally, because the energy is now going into closing the chasm of haunted souls wanting to come through and inhabit my mind. I can feel them breathing on the edges, that cackle of anticipation as they wait for one more blow.
I want to leave work and get away from any stimulus that would push me over. I am shoring up the defences as I write but they’re pretty flimsy paper shields, anything stronger than a puff of wind will send them flying. All I can hope for is no other trigger today. The ax murderer in me just keeps seeing knives, it was so bad earlier, shaking so hard and gasping, i just needed that cut to take the edge away. But, of course, I needed to take the “proper road”, no cutting, work on it, so freakin’ tired now holding this at bay but damn it, I can’t have one small idiot take my serenity away.
I am back home and feeling great, my time away, as my doctors all said, was needed badly. I structured my trip so there was no uncertainty and made sure i tackled the hard issues right up front and took the time to always find joy in each day. I settled some demons that I had left behind (I used to live there), and though not everything is in bed, I feel good about it. My financial woes are still chasing at my tail but for now I cannot do much and with my stress level low its manageable.
The word that floated through my mind and yelled out with a fist pump while there was free. My claustrophobia that i get here and the sense of being locked in a cage while running a hamster wheel was gone. The societal pressure was non existent, the need to be a certain way and act a certain way, gone, and just the liberation of being somewhere small and always having a connection no matter where I went, no matter how small or insignificant is a buoyant feeling. There still is always some form of human segregation no matter where you go but in a small town things can be minimized or maximized, and truth is, there is no space for extremes and the flatness of the society is ideal, where you can have dinner with Morgan Freeman, the clerk from the hardware store and the elecrician all at a table and we become just humans.
People are worried about me still, I think my integrating back was cause for concern, that it may deflate me, and since it has only been a day I do have to proceed with caution, stay conscious of my actions, rest and move slowly. So far so good, I didn’t rush to unpack, I have been sleeping, made sure i took a few days before the kids came over, not cooking, no laundry, just slow and steady. It’s been so calm in my head it’s touching on discombobulating.
Hugh said I was acting a bit strange yesterday when we went for drinks. Threw me for a little loop so I took a few moments at bedtime to review our evening drinks. I asked him about his weekend, just to see what he was up to, I know he went sailing, he was up front about his ex joining and I am well aware he has male and female friends. I suppose maybe it came off overly questioning because he is so guarded that unless i am pointed nothing is forthcoming, he will answer a direct question but he won’t volunteer. It’s a male trait for sure but doubly so with Hugh and at times the shroud piques my curiosity as to why it’s necessary. He asked if I was jealous and that gave me pause. We equate jealousy as a negative emotion in our society, but jealousy can be healthy. Yes its natural to have a twinge when you realize someone you care about is spending time with others, it means you care, but it doesn’t mean it’s bad. I don’t resent it, I don’t not wish it to be, and as humans you do want to be involved but on the flip side, I had a great time where I was, and yes, I spent time with my ex and male friends, does that make it illicit, not at all. Jealousy with security and honesty is not a bad thing, it means you can take that energy and feeling, find the good in it, the vulnerability and be a stronger person. Long winded, i was more curious for information than green, I don’t particularly like that colour on me, makes me seem sallow and highly unattractive, but a touch here and there in the right shade can accent.
Vulnerability popped out of that paragraph and that is my achilles heel of BPD, vulnerability to another person is a trigger so strong it’s the kill switch, which is why I secure against it so tightly. Emotions flow into one another and just like BPD or it is BPD, they need to be managed. Trust and vulnerability are more volatile to me than jealousy could ever be, jealousy will not trigger, I rarely feel that emotion negatively, vulnerability she needs to be locked up, padlocked, thrown in a hatch and sunk. She’s evil to me, opens the drawbridge to all sorts of creatures. She’s not in play, she hasn’t been to play for a while, she needs a good leash and a nanny. Further on a future blog on Ms. Vulnerability trying to be my BFF.
Work calls, the office is now full, time to begin the day and hope it goes quick because I am dying to know who won American Idol and it’s sitting on my PVR at home!!
I live, or used to live, and am now, in a place, where you don’t lock your doors, leave your keys in the car, and all is good. Came home tonight to a dark house, after dinner with friends at the yacht club, to find as I stepped through the door my a naked ex boyfriend, and I mean NAKED, sprawled our asleep, drunk, on the living room floor. Made me think for a moment, what the f*ck??! After that moment I realized, I had great night, I’m tired, I have no idea what this is about, but it’s not about to happen right now. I don’t need to know, I don’t want to know, this is kind of weird and yuck, I am just going to step over you, make no noise, go to my room, lock the door and go to bed. Which is where I am now writing this blog, still thinking what the f*ck?
I’m going to be asleep in about 10 minutes because I’m tired and tomorrow there may or may not be someone in the living room when I wake up.
I can tell you I had an awesome boat ride to the yacht club, the stars were beautiful, the water slightly choppy but dark as night. What an amazing feeling to be captaining at night in the dark with running lights knowing the waters so well you don’t need to see. Exhilarating. One of the best parts of my day today.
I have a lot of business to do tomorrow but hoping I can grab lunch in the sun on a boat in between the banks and business. My final hurrah before I go back to summer that’s not really summer, where people get excited about warmth that’s not really warm, boat but don’t know what it is to boat without all that junk in your boat. One more day of freedom. Then back to the confines of the west and it’s rules.
Good night. Lights out. Doors locked. Naked man in the living room. What the f*ck?
Spent the day with my girlfriend Chris. Was wonderful even with the vagaries of island life. Cell service cut out so I couldn’t call her to get me in the boat, took an hour of me trying to figure this out and get straightened. Sat at “my beach bar” for a while with Tita and Tameka while sorting and eventually Chris figured out to bring the boat to this dock. Then as things go here the engine died so trouble shooting the engine took us another half an hour, and when normally this would throw my day off it was so nice to get back to the normal shit that used to govern my life. Lol. Could anyone imagine me trouble shooting an engine in Canada. Lol. nOT.
Got going and went to the YCCS marina which is sooooo exclusive we were the only ones there. Had a great bottle of wine and tried to soak up the sun as Chris said I was whiter than white and she didn’t even recognize me. bad. Lovely afternoon. Old friends happened to come by and met some people from other home, Canada, that do the same thing I do, commute back and forth but hate to settle in the west but are going to have to because of kids.
Just getting ready for dinner now. Stopped by my house and was instantly mad at the property manager because so many things were f’ed up, so left several not so pleasant emails for them and my ex husband. Cleaned up what I could and locked up the house. Not pleased. Drove by the l old watering hole on the way and ran into more people than I could have imagined. Shit. So much for incognito.
Grabbing the boat and doing a night drive to the BEYC marina. Love driving at night. Calm. Stars. I know it scares people to boat at night without all their GPS contraptions but I know the waters and I love it, the boat has nothing but an engine and a wheel. Cannot wait.
Time to go. Think of me on my moonlight night drive.
New post on Pride in Madness: thank you for sharing!
A World Where Men Had Periods
I thought I had posted this but I looked back and I couldn’t find it so I’ll post it now and hope it’s not hidden in another post!
If Men Had Periods by Gloria Steinem (1970’s)
Since history was recorded, male human beings have built whole cultures around the idea that penis-envy is “natural” to women – though having such an unprotected organ might be said to make men more vulnerable, and the power to give birth makes womb-envy at least logical. In short, logic has nothing to do with it. What would happen, for instance, if suddenly,
magically, men could menstruate and women could not? The answer is clear – menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event:
Men would brag about how long and how much.
Boys would mark the onset of menses, that longed-for proof of manhood, with religious ritual and stag parties.
The US Congress would fund a National Institute of Dysmenorrhea to help stamp out monthly discomforts.
Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. (Of course, some men would still pay for the prestige of commercial brands such as John Wayne Tampons, Muhammed Ali’s Rope-a-dope Pads, Joe Namath Jock Shields – “For Those Light Bachelor Days,” and Robert “Baretta” Blake Maxi-Pads.)
Military men, right-wing politicians, and religious fundamentalists would cite menstruation (“MENstruation”) as proof that only men could serve in the army (“You have to give blood to take blood”), occupy political office (“Can women be aggresive without that steadfast cycle governed by the planet Mars?”), be priests and ministers (“how could a woman give her blood for our sins”), or rabbis (“Without the monthly loss of impurities, women remain unclean”).
Male radicals, left-wing politicians, and mystics, however, would insist that women are equal, just different; and that any woman could enter their ranks if only she were willing to self-inflict a major wound every month (“You must give blood for the revolution”), recognize the preeminence of menstrual issues, or subordinate her selfness to all men in their Cycle of Enlightenment.
Street guys would brag (“I’m a three-pad man”) or answer praise from a buddy (” Man, you are lookin’ good”) by giving fives and saying, “Yeah, man, I’m on the rag!”
TV shows would treat the subject at length. (“Happy Days”: Richie and Potsie try to convince Fonzie that he is still “The Fonz,” though he has missed two periods in a row.)
So would newspapers. (JUDGE CITES MONTHLY STRESS IN PARDONING RAPIST.)
And movies. (Newman and Redford in “Blood Brothers”!)
Men would convince women that intercourse was more pleasurable at “that time of the month.” Lesbians would be said to fear blood and therefore life itself – though probably only because they needed a good menstruating man.
Of course, male intellectuals would offer the most moral and logical arguements. How could a woman master any discipline that demanded a sense of time, space, mathematics, or measurement, for instance, without that in-built gift for measuring the cycles of the moon and planets – and thus for measuring anything at all? In the rarefied fields of philosophy and religion, could women compensate for missing the rhythm of the universe? Or for their lack of symbolic death-and-resurrection every month?
prideinmadness | May 20, 2012 at 3:48 am | Tags: double standard, feminism, Gloria Steinem, humor, inequality, men, periods, women | Categories: Feminism, Humor | URL: http://wp.me/p23yzH-dE
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Last post was all for not. I guess it better I over stress and worry and it come to nothing. Meeting up with my ex was nothing like I expected and i am far more at ease. He definitely did some work and matured in the last 6 months and was lovely and understanding. Unfortunately a few of the women he’s dating are not happy with my presence but that just added to the flavor of life today as I was packing up my things and they “accidentally” came by. So, I spun myself into an unnecessary tizzy. We had a good day today, put some water under the bridge and a new outlook on being friends. Another stressor lifted.
I do feel my Jekyll and Hyde in a physical way here, how can I be such a different person here than I am back home, other home. I sat on the boat today, sans all the accoutrements of city life, back to pulling lines and jumping about barefoot not giving a crap about looking good. Well other than the fact that I am fatter now since I don’t spend my days running around boats but sit in an office and weaker from no physical work. I am two different people, one cannot imagine me as this person if you know me from my other life and vice versa.
I want to be in the tropics, somewhere small, small community, the smell of the ocean, the slowness of life, less stratification, less materialism, just less. Somewhere you can be happy just being you without judgement and worrying about all the what if this and that. There will always be something no matter where i am because nothing is perfect, it’s just easier in less of a western culture. I have a few more years yet before I can leave the kids for extended periods of time but I need to put my foot somewhere. My heart clenched today when I realized I would not have the money to come here very often and then where would I get my escape? My mind and body starts to relax as soon as I smell the air feel the ocean, step into a community where everyone knows you, it would be even better if I could be somewhere with all this and great food, Thailand anyone?
My next hurdle today is to see my friends that live on an island that nursed me through my last breakdown. I owe them a lot and right now feeling a bit nervous but I know I shouldn’t be. I’m also heading back to my side of the pond, my beach bar, my side of the ocean and my old home, except for not living here anymore. Excited and hoping things just mesh back to how they were. Bright side. I think we can paddle board to the new YCCS marina for lunch, new mega yacht marina that is beautiful. Then maybe just a chair on the rock for some mojitos and then wine sitting in the water. I’m salivating at the thought!
I haven’t heard from Hugh, I think he’s somewhere out in the cold cold pacific waters. Went swimming off of Salt Island yesterday and it was bath tub warm and not a soul in the white sand beach. Couldn’t see a person or a boat it was heavenly. Back to Hugh in the cold water, no note, is that strange or normal? I guess I do the same so I should take it as normal in an abnormal sort of way in this curious stage we are in. Wonder if he would like it here, it’s very rustic, back to those two worlds again. Maybe if there are 2 of me I should just let them each have their own life.
Well time to go find a boat to borrow and head across the Sound.
Miami, not even in the City of Skin and already such a change, the airport itself is a hotbed of materialism and commercialism, a virtual Rodeo Drive or should I say Coconut Grove right here in the seashell flecked terminal streets. It’s 6:30am here, 3:30am PST meaning no one on Skype. I’ve already wandered about 2 miles of shops, bars, restaurants, even glowing club like lounges with disinterest. Too early for booze, too early to eat and definitely too early for neo-esque lounges.
This would be far more fun with a cohort but I always seem to end up in Miami alone, which isnt a negative when you’re outside of the runways, but within the airport walls it’s rather drab even with the blue haired (blue, like Katie Perry blue) 70 year old white man with a ponytail, yellow crocs and batik pants, not to mention the new fad of wearing your blow up neck pillow around your neck while walking the airport.
I had the misfortune to sit next to a nice looking man who hadn’t discovered deodorant on flight A. On flight B if I wasn’t in the Artic, it was Greenland, as I pulled every scrap of clothing I had on and then played tent with the blanket to look like a big red mountain of polyester strapped into a seat next to the large Russian man that played children’s games on his Blackberry all night. Yes, I did pull the blanket over my head and huddle into a fetal position in public. It was freezing. Flight C should hold a new wealth of wonders in 2 hours. I also have to admit to eating Doritos at 1am in the morning which are now fixed firmly to my thighs in anticipation of my bikini.
The sound system is on awfully loud at 7am.
I hope D shows up with the boat, I don’t have a phone and getting stranded in STT and having to catch the ferry to Tola is not high on my list of to-dos after the red eye. Pretty excited about lunch in STT and an island hop back to VG. Hopefully D will not hammer down per usual so I need to Hold on to my teeth and breasts for fear they may disengage from my body and become shark food.
Once I’m on VG the anxiety can start once people realize I’m home and wonder why I pulled a genie and disappeared 6 months ago without a single good bye. I have a 3 hour flight to formulate that response. It will be great to see the broad smiles and happy faces, get into my beater of a car, have a margarita at LDB, Pinot at Jumbies, sleeeeeeeeep, and see my friendly fish and turtle in front of the house. Might even hit the Rock for some piano bar and Dockside to see the locals play heated dominoes. I feel better already.
Wish someone would get up and get on Skype. Haven’t spoken to anyone since 4pm. My eyes are dry, I finished my book, and saving the magazines for flight C.
Some ingesting things I have learned sitting here:
Man catches 68lb striped bass caught in Arkansas. Largest freshwater fish caught in America.
Alexandria, VG buys the most romance novels in North America
Cambridge, Massachusetts most well read city
Worst of all rainy and windy here!
Life after Borderline Personality Disorder; making a life worth living through love, laughter, positivity and Dialectical Behaviour Therapy
The secret life of high-functioning borderline personality disorder.
Thoughts and ideas
One day at a time...for 6 months! :/