{January 29, 2015}   Ativan Days

Trying to leave the house and get to work, it’s feels like someone pulling my nails out one by one as I try and get to the door. Tears won’t quit and sweat is literally dripping down my wamrs and it hurts like being stabbed in the gut by a serrated knife that won’t dislodge. All I want is to just curl up on the couch and tell them to fuck off, the voices in my heads and all the detractors. I can’t do any better than I am doing, take it or leave it, but just quit trying to make me into someone I am not.

Thankfully, I feel steady inside in that deep place that where today would normally mean a blood bath on my arm I have managed to stay conscious enough to know this is not my fault, I am not doubting me but what I do want is to get away from the people that doubt me, press me, distrust me.

Kudos to me,

My DBF at Christmas pretty much told me due to me there hasn’t been any happy in 3 years and I am an ungrateful beeyatch. Always good for the mental health.

Work hasn’t said one affirmative word to me since i started working there. It’s pretty much been a litany of what has not been done, done wrong, managed wrong or the best part today, how I have been taking advantage of the company. Seriously, if you have an issue, quit beating me up and just find someone else. I don’t need to hear everyday about my shortcomings and mistakes.

This should all pale next to the fact that I am still grieving for a friend that died. It’s my father’s death anniversary in a week and he would have turned 80 this week. It was his birthday, my sister and I had a good cry together.

My disability paperwork has been a government roller coaster of give, take, give and take. At least that feels normal, no surprise there, dealing with known quantity.

Positives, you cannot make me fucking acknowledge that I am bad, I work fucking hard, I am a good friend, I loved my DBF very much and i do everything honestly and straight forward, and I trust. TRUST. Does no one have that anymore? Respect? Maybe I need to be a meaner more vindictive person but that’s not who I want to be, I do believe that they are good people, with good souls, who do things without need for gain. People before things, people before money. You want me to be that horrid person, I can let my BPD go, I’ll show you psychosis and untrustworthy, let Gollum out of the cage, he’ll show you evil, mean, vindictive, passive aggressive, addictive personality.

The good, I do have a partner, working partner, that does get it, we work well together, we do damn good work, people admire us and we don’t deal with drama and pettiness. Gotta see the positive. I have an amazing family, which credit to me, they’re good selfless sentient people because they were raised by good people.

So, the long and short, it may be another Ativan day to get through the pettiness of the day and the emails and the people. The storm is still ahead, I can feel it in my gut. A few more hammers coming down, like whack a mole, which one/s will finally get me or will i manage to doge and escape them and get out of the game. I don’t need to play this game but I am truly hoping that  people will realize that there is a better way to be and to treat people.


{January 28, 2015}   They Just Don’t Care

For some reason, the deterioration of any body part except the brain, elicits concern, sympathy and action, but when our mental health is at risk, few happen to notice or care.

{January 27, 2015}   I am a eunuch.

I don’t think this post has much to do with BPD, therapy or any such therapeutic lessons.

I haven’t felt attractive or desired in over 6 months, could be longer and I’m doing myself a favour, I could be a eunuch.  I can look in the mirror and appreciate myself most days, critique flaws that are probably not there, and admire things about myself that are. Ia m OK, with me, from my own sense of self. However, as a woman, a feeling, sentient, emotional being, I haven’t had any positive affirmation that I am an attractive or desirable female. Now that I have been off my meds for over 2 months, I realize how ego crushing it has been, to not feel wanted physically. I’ve made all sort of excuses for myself and others, but in the end, it comes down to facts. It can happen that there are times where life gets in the way, tiredness, you name it, but after 6 months, I just have to come to terms with the fact that I may not be attractive physically or sexually to someone. I am OK with that, personal choice and all, but WTF to myself, how much more obtuse does it need to be for me to have an ah-hah moment. Dude, he’s just not that in to you.

Anyways, this isn’t meant to be a huge exposition, just an ah-hah moment on my own denial. I needed to just acknowledge that it took a mountain for me to see an ant hill. As Homer would say “doh”.

When I say BPD doesn’t have anything to do with this, that’s not entirely accurate, I know the drugs dampen libido which gives me a good excuse to excuse other excuses. Truth is, I don’t want to be a written off and accept myself as undesirable. Perhaps I am past that age, and I am kind of pissed at myself for not saying “hey, here I am, do you like what you see, if you don’t, just tell me.”. I didn’t do this and I am grumpy, not mad (as that’s far too much energy) that I am in my frickn’ sexual prime and no one notices and I’ve put caring about it so low on the totem pole I could be a eunuch.

I think you have to be male to be a eunuch, but you get my point, I am a eunuch. No one is interested in me, and I’ve spent so much time being interested in someone that’s not interested in me I don’t have any interest anywhere else. What a dumb ass.

I feel much like Buddha now (sorry Buddha for comparing myself to you). Asexual. I’m finally at that damn age where men no longer realize you exist and when they do, they consider you something akin to their grandmother.

I’m shaking my head at how I managed to put myself in this position, where I have stymied my sexuality that I can’t find it right now. Hellllooooooooooo? Sex? Is that foreign language?

“Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate…” Germaine Greer

I’ve ben taught, the mindful way,  that if you choose to do something, it is your own decision, that you willingly place yourself within a space and the act of giving or doing is your choice. You also have the choice of not doing something. Regardless of whether someone asks me or not, the power of making a decision or action is mine and has nothing to do with the other person, it’s my choice. I can’t remember the last time I thought someone should thank me for doing something I chose to do for them, or especially something I chose to do without being asked. I do things for people because I want to, it makes me feel good or it feels right or it’s just what I do as me, because I love someone, my personality and being. I don’t do things expecting praise or that someone should be beholden to me or I need to tally my gives vs their give backs. I made the choice to help, do, fix, change something for someone, the operative word here is “I”, I am in control of my actions and the self satisfaction and derivation of the deed comes from me. It makes no sense to me to resent someone for an action I made unless I did not do it selflessly.

I had a very sick friend for the last year, I did a lot for his family and friends and was there for them. It took a shitload out of me, a shitload, and not till today, from something someone said to me, did I even think, did they say thank you, did I want them to? Truth is, I don’t care if they do or not, I did it for me and for my friend. Do I care if he said thank you, no, God no, everything comes around in karma and life. I did everything I did willingly and in full knowledge because I cared. Caring does not have a price tag. You build karma in life, I truly believe that, give willingly if you choose to give and with an open heart and mind.

I am a good person, I know that very well. I believe in giving and receiving openly, and if there is an issue, and you need help, I give it with no resentments. I care about people far more than things. People before objects and with no strings attached. If I place myself in a situation of resentfulness, that is my burden, not someone else’s. And if I do resent my own actions, shame on me. I am a sentient, willing being. If I made a choice for someone, regardless of whether it was for someone, it was my choice. And if I made a wrong choice, it is still my choice. And if I am in a position of resentfulness for something I chose to do, the resentfulness should be towards myself and what the motive of my actions were and it’s up to me to change my actions.

I did have a horrible feeling today because someone I cared about put their need for recognition and thankfulness for their actions towards me, freely given, as a flaw on my character. That I was not a good or giving person for not being aware that a) what was being done was for me explicitly and not for themselves at all b) that it was not freely given c) that it came with a price d) and a judgement of my character for not paying back d) not knowing the terms of barter and hence failing. My flaw for not recognizing that, to that person, giving comes with a price. It then becomes about blame and valuation of what is given, it’s no longer an act of caring, it’s about resenting what was given and placing almost a valuation that needs to be given back from the acceptor, willing, knowledgeable or not. I will never come out ahead because I don’t know what the terms of the trade are, what do I fill the cup with to make it full? Even? Thanked? What are the words? How often do you say them? Where do you write them? Do you keep score in case its forgotten?

One of my mindfulness books has a chapter that I have written here. It has taken a long time to absorb, as those of you that study mindfulness and DBT know, it takes practice and practice. But when it sticks, hallelujah, you should feel good about your person.

Simple Steps to Feeling Good About Serving

1. Know why you’re serving.

Why do you feel connected to the people or cause you’re serving?  Who benefits from your serving and how?  Why is this important to you?

Are you truly serving to help the other person or cause or are you serving with the expectation of recognition, appreciation, reciprocation or acceptance (that may or may not come)?

2. Give up any expectations.

Give to give.  Give simply because it feels good to you.

Don’t set up expectations of how others should react to your actions. You can’t control them.  They aren’t you and they won’t respond the way you would respond.  Let it go.

3. Take the time to more fully understand the person or people you’re serving.

Ask them what they want.  Ask them how you can help.  Don’t judge.  Give them what they want in the way they want it, without expectations.

4. Know where to draw the line.

You’re always teaching others how to treat you.

If you’re feeling like a martyr it’s probably because you’re acting like one and people are taking advantage of that.

Change your actions to change the outcome.  Don’t wait for others to realize what they’re doing and change their ways.  That will never happen.

Respect yourself.  If you can’t love and respect yourself, no one else can do that for you.

{January 22, 2015}   I Hate My Job Environment

I hate my job environment, which is not the same as saying I hate my job, as I love my job. Unfortunately the tow are intertwined in an indiscernible tango that I am not leading.

I’m breaking my silence on not talking about work at therapy at my next therapy session, I am at a point where I need someone to let me know if this is going to be a trigger break point for me. The conflict aspect is more than I want, bargained for, and as I mentioned in a previous post, it’s locking me into a little cage with barely enough room to turn in a circle or even breathe. I hate it. Hate is a strong word, acknowledged, but I hate it and I am claustrophobic. I’m at that edge where I want to turn everything off and say fuck you and curl into my shell at home, into my bed, with my distractions and let it and me go to our own hells.

I’m not going to do it though.. I say, very strongly now, I don’t want to go to that place even if it is beckoning with very green grass that I know I am allergic too. The question is, how to deal with the stress, claustrophobia and the ever growing gnawing tension and anxiety. I can’t keep popping Ativan, as much as I want to, it’s going to go down a bad path of withdrawal. I don’t want to be in a job where I am forced to take Ativan to deal with people I work with, that’s stupid, I don’t need you to tell me that!

But the complication of politics. You see, I am the kind of person that can walk away from conflict, I have no qualms saying, fine take it all, if you think you can do better, I am not going to fight. It’s what happened at my last 2 jobs, I am not that person that needs the ego of winning. If you want it, take it, I’d rather maintain my tenuous happy than risk it for a job. If you want to scape goat me and blame me, OK, do so, just let me leave. Forward, it’s all about forward.

I’m writing this as I need to steal myself for the coming 4 days of work, kind of my written ammunition.See you on the other end. Let the insanity begin.


{January 20, 2015}   Psychosis is my friend…

Dedicated my yoga practice to me tonight.

I watched some TedX Talks last night and it took me back years (17 years) to when the madness really started. My Gollum, my voice in my head. How controlling and fierce and foreign he used to feel, creeping through the channels of my mind, at times holding on like a vice grip, the seductive innuendoes and outright blatant suggestions of my death, our death, the beauty and peace in it. My uselessness a constant monologue I listened to daily, fought with, screamed with, while living externally. How adept I am at having 3 conversations simultaneously. Second nature now.

And yet, Gollum and I, we still fight, but we’ve mellowed with age and learning, or perhaps I have learned that they way to manage Gollum is to not fight him but to have learned him. Learn that no matter what, he is a manifestation of me, echoing and voicing all my deepest fears and insecurities, letting him/me, scare and frighten me into actions, and believe in exaggerated truths about who I am. He takes the nuggets I hide and exploits them, and because they come from me, buried within, I believe them as they are my worst fears and thoughts about who I am come alive in his voice.

He still talks, always, I don’t know life without an internal dialogue of questions and rebukes. I’ve learned that when I am strong I can turn the volume down, that I can talk him down, that I can listen and not act. Everyday there are the suggestions on ways to die, I can’t drive the highway without the silky suggestions of how easily it would be to go over the rails, I can’t step on the balcony without the push to wonder how quick it would be to jump that edge, or listen to him remind me how good it feels to cut and feel that blood. That I’m useless, stupid, incompetent, unloved, you name it. We’ve grown old together and yes, he can incite me, when I’m feeling weak and sad, the buttons are there to push. He can still push them and he can still reduce me to a ball of misery when I am low. But it’s not daily or weekly, we talk all the time, I’d miss him if he left (i’m quite aware I can’t leave myself), I don’t know my mind without the voice I talk to everyday, all the time, subconsciously, consciously. These days I don’t even realize half the conversations are happening, it’s second nature.

Therapy, time, experiences- psychosis can be tamed and become the enemy you would rather hold close. I can turn him off with meditation, I can turn him off through yoga. I know how to escape if I am losing the fight, distraction is my friend.

There are times I can’t win, when both outside and inside are yelling at me, one fuels the other, conflict is Gollum’s friend. I know I need to walk away, not give him wood for the fire from someone else, I am bad enough! My head has ached a lot the last 2 months, without the pills, neither myself nor Gollum have been tempered and we’ve been eye to eye many a time. I’m not drugged and neither is he. I know we can co-exist, without the drugs, with the learning, my training, history has taught lessons, and god knows i have paid the price time and time again, we’ll never be perfect together, but we’re coming to equal ground.

To the people that have empowered me, believed my psychosis, given me the tools and support to embrace who I am, voices and all, and never doubted me, you have all my love. So few and far between, I can count you on one hand, you never disbelieved, you opened your mind to crazy and always listened, always stood by with words of support and never judged or commanded when I sunk lower than low, sank in and out of depression, raved and ranted, hated, and did nothing at times, lost my mind, lost my soul, lost my will. You’re angels and I hope you stay with me till whenever that end comes.


{January 14, 2015}   All Roads Lead to where??

At a crossroads but all of them are either washed out, barred or have ogres under the bridges.

I feel good about my mental person but I am despising my life around it at the moment. Unfortunately, these two roads will cross at some point. I want to enjoy the fact that my head feels strong right now, for however brief amount of time that may be. But I don’t because I am irritable, cross and feel like I have ants and people crawling all over my ass, under my eyelids and in my ears and mouth.  All I do is work work work work and work. My saving grace is I love the industry I am in, but my bosses are starting to make me want to suggest they find someone better for their job. For pete’s sake, rather than fucking me from all angles everyday, 12 hours a day, find someone that can get the job done in 30 hours with minimal pay a week that’s a super spreadsheet, sales superstar, forward thinking, business planning, do-it-all superwoman, it’s not me.


I am going to see my counsellor soon and I think I am going to just ‘fess up, it may cost me my disability and assistance I need but I need someone to talk to about the 70 hour days, the pressure, pressure and lack of self time and life breaks. I am not supposed to be working at all, let alone at this maniacal pace. I think part of the reason I have been able to push through is I stopped taking the meds so the mania could kick in and keep me going. But, history, good old history, which I do not want to repeat is a knock knock knocking at the door, this almost killed you twice, it can do it again honey.

It’s not worth it. I know it’s not. I don’t see my kids, I don’t see my sister, I don’t talk to my best friend, I have no time to get anything personal done, bills aren’t getting paid, I haven’t seen a doctor/shrink/counsellor in over 2 months, I have no time for classes, I am too tired to talk to my friends or give them what they need, my relationship is gone, no time for any hobbies, no planning which I love, my partner is mad, no breaks, not even enough pay.  No, it’s not worth it.

I didn’t ask for this. What I wanted to was a job I could do 30 hours a week, maybe 3 days, even weekends is fine, see my friends, my family, take the time off when needed, get to yoga, meditation, do BPD classes and connect with other BPD folks, time for side projects I like, have a life with not so much worry.


Things got far out of hand last year: my best friend had a nervous breakdown at work and went into a depression, another friend spent 6-8 months dying slowly and terribly. My aunt died which didn’t affect me so much as my mother. But people don’t see these things. I’m an emotional being. People come first, family come first. Right now, all everyone cares about is work comes first. It’s not me yet I am trying to curl myself into it because of responsibility and PRESSURE and hating that all other parts of my life are getting chopped off like limbs from my body. I may be strong but now I am strong, hateful, alone and pointless. I’m not crying and whimpering in a depression but neither am I seeing a future or even a light in the next while.

What’s the point? If I don’t have any of the loves, creatives and emotions that keep me buoyant, it brings up the age old BPD question of, why am I here? I am not here to work 70 hours a week, be crawled over with gnats and raked through with a comb and hate getting up in the morning and spend my nights sleepless and my days tired. ab963c4b4cbaa8981d2e5523741a-660x518

I have been trying to get to yoga these days, it’s like running a triathlon to fit it in and costs me more time staying up to get what I couldn’t get done while at yoga done which wrecks any happy happy joy joy that may have come out of it. I enjoy myself in the moment, its my hour to hour and a half of no noise in my head and then as soon as I step out the doors the alarms start ringing non stop and I start running. Sometimes I wish I could stay seated after the class is over and stay there for an extra hour and savour the bliss, swallowed by the peace and quiet of post practice where my mind feels like a glowing pulsing orb of positive energy.

I am a yucky person. I am. I don’t like the outside me. I am cross, grumpy, and I feel myself biting my tongue to not lash out at people. That BPD anger part of me, without the drugs, is very prevalent in the back of my head. I want to say “FUCK OFF, IF YOU DONT LIKE IT DO IT FUCKING YOURSELF!” Yes, exactly like that, sadly, true, it runs through my mind when I am face to face, on the phone, on emails, text, it itches to come out. Where I used to feel the pain of sorrow and loss, now I can feel that itch of anger in my throat that burns hot. I had to hold back the reins very tight today and finally just stopped answering calls because I knew I would just tell her to fuck the hell off.


Well, spent so much time writing, just lost my window of getting to mental health and some drugs for tonight. Time to go rummage under the sink and in my handbags for old pills. I know I have some somewhere in the bloody house. When it rains it pours pills and people are hiding them from me, when I want them, where are they?

I spoke to a counsellor today, not because I needed help, I feel stronger than normal. I needed clarification on doubts and I learned some new information. Actually what I learned BLEW MY MIND, made me look at many things in a new light. I knew there was something amiss and finally this huge lightbulb turned on, like “OH MY GOD” in front of my face, never saw it.

I learned what co-dependency means, and not in a relationship form as so commonly gets thrown about in our society. Co-dependent as a person, a single person, nothing to do with relations but how a person is. There is a person typology that is called co-dependent and the term originally came from study of alcoholics (new Jeopardy trivia).


  • Control.Control helps codependents feel safe and secure. Everyone needs some control over events in their life. You wouldn’t want to live in constant uncertainty and chaos, but for codependents, control limits their ability to take risks and share their feelings. Sometimes they have an addiction that either helps them loosen up, like alcoholism, or helps them hold their feelings down, like workaholism, so that they don’t feel out of control.Codependents also need to control those close to them, because they need other people to behave in a certain way to feel okay. In fact, people-pleasing and care-taking can be used to control and manipulate people. Alternatively, codependents are bossy and tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. This is a violation of someone else’s boundary.
  • Dysfunctional communication. Codependents have trouble when it comes to communicating their thoughts, feelings and needs. Of course, if you don’t know what you think, feel or need, this becomes a problem. Other times, you know, but you won’t own up to your truth. You’re afraid to be truthful, because you don’t want to upset someone else. Instead of saying, “I don’t like that,” you might pretend that it’s okay or tell someone what to do. Communication becomes dishonest and confusing when you try to manipulate the other person out of fear.
  • Denial. One of the problems people face in getting help for codependency is that they’re in denial about it, meaning that they don’t face their problem. Usually they think the problem is someone else or the situation. They either keep complaining or trying to fix the other person, or go from one relationship or job to another and never own up the fact that they have a problem. Codependents also deny their feelings and needs. Often, they don’t know what they’re feeling and are instead focused on what others are feeling. The same thing goes for their needs. They pay attention to other people’s needs and not their own.  Although some codependents seem needy, others act like they’re self-sufficient when it comes to needing help. They won’t reach out and have trouble receiving. They are in denial of their vulnerability and need for love and intimacy.
  • Problems with intimacy. By this I’m not referring to sex, although sexual dysfunction often is a reflection of an intimacy problem. I’m talking about being open and close with someone in an intimate relationship. Because of the shame and weak boundaries, you might fear that you’ll be judged, rejected, or left. On the other hand, you may fear being smothered in a relationship and losing your autonomy. You might deny your need for closeness and feel that your partner wants too much of your time; your partner complains that you’re unavailable, but he or she is denying his or her need for separateness.

Holy moly, smoking tamale.

{January 11, 2015}   I Am Strong

Went to yoga today and dedicated my practice to me. First time. I take pride in the fact that most practices I dedicate to people who need or else I dedicate my energy to family, peace, living but tonight it was for me, for my empowerment and for the fact that I realized most people don’t have the growth I have seen in my lifetime ever. I have been to highs and lows unimaginable and dragged myself out by fingertips to survive what I do daily, with not much appreciation, not even from myself.

Today, I appreciated me.

For the last 15 years i have moulded, changed, suffered, enlightened and listened to more people than I can count on what I should do, what I should think, how I should change, where I should focus, who I should be, what classes I should take, how to breathe, how to walk away, how i might live, how to speak, how to think, how to cry, how to fight, every tiny particle of my life has been taken apart and put back together, analyzed and mapped. This is from psychiatrists, psychologists, GPs, counsellors, well meaning friends, families, significant others, clueless people, people with hero complexes, unsolicited advice,know-it-alls, you name it, everyone has an idea empirical or not on how I should be, should act, should think, should feel and should do. Most of the doctors get it, they should and I have changed tenfold because of them, who I am today is night and day from the mess I was 10 years ago. Very few non medical people actually have been through and seen the metamorphosis to acknowledge the work and change, my ex husband, my best friend, my sister, that’s likely all that know how hard this road has been and how much has been achieved. I think they are the only 3 that don’t lecture me, want to change me, tell me what I should be doing, or assume they know how I feel or belittle what I do feel. They know, they’ve seen, they’ve seen so much and they appreciate me, the Everest of a climb they’ve come along and the person I have worked so hard to keep going.

I looked in the mirror today, I am proud, I’ve let too many people make me doubt in the last 5 years, doubt my strength, doubt my work, my accomplishments, doubt my pain, doubt my suffering, and to my shame I have let myself doubt me. It’s no one’s fault but my own to not realize that I’m my own hero, that I let the negative thoughts and opinions affect who I am, and I let myself believe the character judgements levied against me. I have spent time doubting me, letting people’s words hurt me and then the words in my head believe, cycling me down. I need to look back at the other people, really look at them, strip their shells and their clothes and realize for every fault they find in me, I need to look back and realize, they are not perfect either and it’s makes me no less of a person for what they think, no matter how they say it, or hurtful it may sound.

I am smart, I am a hard worker. I am strong. I know what to do. I have more real empathy in my little finger than most people can find in a lifetime. When I give, I give 150% of my emotion to anyone in need, not because you ask, not because I feel obligated, not because it’s what I am supposed to do, and when I give, it’s free of resentment. I am the perfect Peace Corp candidate, except that it would kill me, because I don’t have a shut off filter for empathy, I’ll pour my soul out to the wounded and sick and forget that I am sick in return. I feel with every fibre in my being, it’s part of my sickness, but it is also a positive, they’re real and they are strong and they are true and they do not lie.

{January 11, 2015}   Words to Live By, for everyone.


et cetera
A Forgetful Traveler

Remembering the world one blog post at a time

Life after BPD

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.

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