borderlinegirlliveshere











{March 28, 2015}   5-Alarm

Ive been alone, purely alone without the noise of life for a couple of days now. Not to say I haven’t interacted or been with people, that triggers and pokes are not still happening, they do, but being so isolated from the crush of life, makes me able to feel each sense perceptibly. This would normally be a 5 alarm fire to run straight into the clutches of hell, feeling every speck of sand stuck to my damned soul in that pesky way sand never seems to every want to come off.

It’s been enlightening running through the emotions. I just posted a blog about my happiness and I am happy but as we with BPD know that doesn’t mean emotions are still. There is still the need to use my DBT training to manage the rises and falls and interpret what is real and not. For example, someone that I had been waiting to hear from just told me they couldn’t do something. A very normal, run of the mill, they’re busy right now. To your average joe that should be just fine. To BPD mind its the ultimate in rejection, or it seemed so for me, crushingly so, complete with anxiety, incredulousness, sorrow and then every scenario I could conjure from what was wrong with me, I wasn’t loved to what i would do to make that person feel bad, absolute blacks and whites from one spectrum to the other till I could wrestle it into a manageable plane and believe you me, that took at least an hour. Substantial distraction, poring over the emotion and rationalizing each piece to myself, removing vengeful thoughts, walking around, OCD typing. It’s the shits, imagine doing this all day everyday. This is life with BPD.

Once upon a time, I didn’t recognize it, so whichever emotion hit first and hit hard took control and it was a gong show. One after the other, as like waves, they keep coming in sets. And this is when mania would set in, it’s a drug, that once it sets in feeds on each trigger, making you higher and higher. Mania doesn’t mean happy highs, you can also be manic dark, which I think is worse. Much better to be on a careening high of false adrenaline and fun, than rolling down a bank of darkness picking up every maligned patch of disease along the way.

The ability to have some semblance of control, even with the struggle I still need to manage it, is amazing. I still make mistakes, many mistakes, I still cry like my world is shattering, I still want to die, but I have cognizance. There is a part of me that has learned the habit of feeling what can be right and wrong in myself, and when an emotion, anguish or yearning is me or me in BPD mind. It’s far from perfect but I do encourage anyone that struggles, if they have the resource offered for free through the mental health community or pay for a private course, to take dialectical behavioural therapy. It is not the same thing as CBT, as CBT alumnus like to think. DBT was specifically comprised for people suffering from BPD and each module nails down challenges specific to us, it goes beyond being cognitive.

My hard part is still emotion regulation, still makes me feel like I have my legs kicked out from under me and the wind knocked from me each time. Somehow, you still have to pick yourself up after being gut punched and regulate the emotion. ¬†It’s much easier to lie on the ground letting the pain wash over you and wish it would all end. Or just let the mind take over and the devil and angel settle on your shoulder, deciding how to settle your emotional score. Letting your emotional move be determined by strangers, which it pretty much is if you don’t take control, can be an easy way out, just wait to see the end of movie, which may end up with you dead, incarcerated, doing something you really regret (putting this mildly) or just let yourself become a waste of space. Most times, it ends badly… but at that point you really don’t give a damn. I’m getting better, I do tend to lie there ruminating and invariably make the wrong decision before the right one which leaves a gnawing pit of guilt in my stomach.

I may speak from experience as I am feeling this way right now. I knew the right choices but I couldn’t fight the voices, insecurity, guilt to get to the right choice first. I got there but screwed up along the way and watching the litter behind me is sickening. I know, I need to pat myself on the back because i can SEE the litter, I CAN talk about it, I CAN see it, but it doesn’t mean I want to know it ūüė¶ So many positives but still the negatives. I did come right, found the correct voice but¬†listened to the wrong ones first because they were easier. What I’m trying to say, it’s not easy and there is so much guilt and repercussion along the way, but I am still doing good, better than I ever have, and that I can look back and write this is major kudos.

No more 5-Alarm for right now, just some guilt. Onwards, may bite me in the ass later but I did OK.

Vida



{March 27, 2015}   Standing in the Sun

Happy. So happy tears are spilling down my cheeks as I write these 5 little letters. I am HAPPY (what?). Happy and so scared of when happy goes away. Be in the moment, I keep reeling that line back in to the present, mindful to stay in the emotion of how I am here and now,¬†don’t let the spool get stuck in the rock depths. Marinate in this moment, moments, and commit them to memory for when the darkness returns, make this the light, remember the light.

My hands tremble and water still drains from my eyes, times like these are so fleeting, I can’t believe I am sitting in reality. I haven’t felt this breathe move through my chest, living, life. Outside the window, is beauty, appreciation, perfection, adjectives I see but never understand as applying to me.

I want to wade into the ocean and contribute my salty tears to the conflux of the ocean, wash myself into this peacefulness and join energies with the salve of the water, ensuring when I return, I live in her depths.

For 3 days I have woken up without death sitting on my chest, the breeze coming through the windows washing smiles across my face, the gentle warmth of contentment curling up beside me. It doesn’t matter that it’s just me, i dance around the kitchen in disorganized abandon, laugh at my ridiculousness, talk out loud to the oceans and stars, and close my eyes to nothing but peace, gone are the death threats, plans of pain and the zero sum game. Nights are my friend again, morning my haven.

Unrealistic, of course, crests and troughs is how life works and the rise and fall of the waves outside remind me that I need to grasp every millisecond of this happiness while it’s in my palms. I needed to wipe this home from my mind the last 3 years to move forward, to heal, get well, find help and focus on just living. Living, that’s what I have done, I have lived. Lived to return to life, even for a brief moment in time, because this is life, I forgot, I made her go away, but here she is, in all her glory, smiling down at my sorrowful joy.

The emotions are thunderous, jungle drums beating a crescendo rising from within of warmth, heat, with a hint of fear. Is it fair to be afraid, mirages come and go, don’t get too attached because reality is stronger than fiction. I want to reach a hand out and touch the bubble and see if the walls wobble and pass.

For now, hands off, it will wobble but that can wait. Right now, I need to have my moment in the sun, to bask, glory and absorb every minute of these wonderful wonderful feelings that have been gone and dormant for far too long. Standing in the sun. I’m going to stand in the sun, tears flowing, happiness cascading down, singing my joy to the world and dancing in circles.

Vida.

*SG, we’re standing in the sun. ¬†Wherever, you are are, I’m standing here for both of us*



{March 22, 2015}   Mania

The world just sped up and I am furiously running along knowing that I have to come down to not crash. Work has been ramping up at an incredible pace and so have the social/network engagements and my impending trip¬†is so badly organized for lack of time. It’s all good and it’s all bad all at the same time. I am in a technological swarm, the phones keep buzzing ringing, the email is non stop, the invites keep coming. It’s social season in my work when everyone is starting to ramp up for next season and the planning and networking begins. I am tired but vaguely happy and cautious, it’s dangerous skirting the borderline when you’re happy, because you’re never sure if it is mania or happy?

I have gotten much better at sensing, modulating and using the tools for distress tolerance but emotion regulation is still a tough one for me, especially when it comes to regulating the highs down. No one wants to bring the high down because it feels good, but its just as destructive as low, the goal is to stay level. These days its been too much of high and low, squeaking to the top of the high notes and back down to the baritone in hours, that I have bags under my eyes from the tension of it. And the constant asking of myself whether something is real emotion, BPD emotion, emotion that should be tempered, emotion that is “fake”, emotion that’s valid, mindful… jesus christ, it’s ridiculous.

My therapist says I am in transition, that I need to be patient, follow all the steps, ride the rough waters and soon (grasshopper, soon), it “may” settle down, but with BPD you never know, it’s vigil, stay vigil and the boat should stay afloat and somewhat steady, give in to too much happy mania or low depression and you’ve rocked the damn thing over.

I started DBT classes again which is good, nice to have that 1.5 hours every week where I can be openly exactly who I am with no judgement and perfect understanding from everyone around me. It’s a relief to know that in class, people know who I am and can understand everything I say intuitively because they feel the same way. It’s like a massive boulder I can take off my shoulder and put aside for a little while and be openly and accepted BPD.

I am going on holidays tomorrow, amidst the swarm I spoke of above, I sense coming back is going to be like being flung headfirst out of a tsunami. Not the best way to return from vacation and I am already dreading it. I get to find some happy time for a couple of weeks before the maelstrom of Spring begins. I have this underlying fear that in a few months the bottom is going to drop out of my world, not because of BPD but my gut feels something brewing and no matter how I try to look around it, something is coming and it’s big.

This has been one of my more nonsensical posts but my head feels a bit everywhere the last few days.



{March 18, 2015}   Happy & Crappy

Today was a classic example of borderline moods. I have had every mood possible and I am exhausted from the effort of non-effort as I personally had no control over my moods, which is rather evident and disturbing. For the first time in 3 months, yesterday and this morning, I woke up without wanting to die. The lack of death was glaring, that I almost missed the feeling. I was stupid happy this morning, chatted with a good friend, la dee da’ed my way around the house, drove the entire highway singing at the top of my lungs with a smile on my face and not once did I gauge my normal drive off the cliff points. Laugh out loud, I could have tattooed the “LOL” on my forehead. So this may all be a extended definition of mania, not sure, or I could just be happy (what?).

However, before we cue the grandiose music, by mid day, i was miserable, miserable and more miserable. Deflated and a ball of drudgery and moroseness at how purposeless life is and the irony of being euphoric to abysmal in a matter of minutes. Not that this is a surprise to anyone with BPD, cycling moods, quickly cycling moods is a hallmark, I’ve just been in a transient depression for the last 3 months, I’m jack in the boxing due to triggers I think.

I pyscho babbled my way through the afternoon, and proceeded to go from listless, to irritable to flat. Flat that everything was excruciating, watching myself in a slow motion film pushing myself to plod on. It’s easier to stay flat constantly than to drop from high to low, the pressure coming up and going down is as uncomfortable as it sounds. Its like being attached to puppet strings but you can’t look up or see the script of what’s next, it’s just a jerk and you’re spun into act 2, mood 2.

Distraction, I played the music loud, I tried to watch TV, I tried to do sit ups, I tried everything just to stay doing something and not feel. Nothing worked, I was on the roller coaster and the eject button was not an option in this particular carriage.

And then, pffffft, mood change, talked to a girlfriend and felt awkwardly normal, whatever that is, transient depression, where I was before, comfort zone. Tried to keep it there, played all my DBT tapes in my head, talked to myself. Self motivated, tried to stay in this “normal” zone, I’m exhausted.

I am truly exhausted. I have no idea what spin the mood is next, but I’m not liking this at all. It’s creepy and yeah I like happy but not when happy and crappy go face to face, cheek to cheek every couple of hours.

Oh my dear BPD, how nice to see you classically manifesting yourself just as a reminder in case I get too comfortable in depression.



This is for the days when our hearts hurt like hell, pulsating with a fierce, fiery pain.

This is for the days when we bite back tears, trying too hard to swallow them whole.

This is for the days when our souls feel heavy, so we slump our tired shoulders down, down, down.

This is for the days when getting out of bed feels like a bad-ass, award-winning achievement.

This is for the days when we tremble with anger, our temper on super-short hairline-triggers.

This is for the days when we feel empty, useless and invisible, like a hungry ghost.

Yes.

This is for those really tough days.

The days that rip us wide open, leaving us naked and exhausted, shivering in the dark.

The days where we just want to give up.

The days where we want to run far, far, away.

But, we can’t.

We can’t run. Or hide. Or give up.

Because if we did, the only person we would be running from is ourselves.

We would giving up on ourselves.

Hiding from ourselves.

So, yes, we can try to bail and haphazardly fling ourselves under a fast-moving bus when the going gets tough.

But the thing is‚ÄĒwe actually need ourselves the most on those f*cking¬†tough, trying and terrible days.

Let’s stay.

Let’s stick it out.

We don’t need to understand what we’re feeling.

We don’t need to analyze it.

We just need to stay and support the sh*t out of ourselves.

How?

What can we do?

We can be bold and dive right into the toughness of the day, feeling the icy water drip into our hearts, freezing to form incredibly beautiful icicles.

We can run directly towards ourselves, sprinting with wide open arms, a supportive smile and a glass of succulent red wine.

We can buy our battered souls a big bouquet of blossoming flowers.

We can clear a space and cry a thousand crystalline drops till the skies clear and our salty tear-rain has passed.

We can run our soul a frothy bubble bath, slip into mile-high lavender bubbles and take a breath.

We can retreat from the world, burrow under our covers, sigh, moan and just hurt.

We can ask ourselves, ‚ÄúWhat can I do for you right now?‚ÄĚ

We can be really ballsy, wear our heart on our sleeve and ask a trusted friend for an extra-large serving of support.

We can curl up in child’s pose and cry into our yoga mats.

We can write, paint, dance and sing our hurt, our passionate pain, our wicked grief, and express it no-holds-barred, creating magical art from our madness.

We can cue up an angsty, melancholy playlist and sob or scream or tremble till our hearts slip into a soothed state.

We can reach out, take our own hand and squeeze it hard.

Yes.

There are a thousand beautiful things we can do to support ourselves.

So let’s vow now to never, ever abandon our sweet selves again.

Ever.

Because, yes, some days are incredibly tough.

But they can be really juicy, too.

They can be transformative.

They can be beautiful.

They can be filled with inspiration.

They can be chock-full of creativity.

They can be exactly what we need.

So, let’s be bold and stick around.

Let’s be badass and meet those tough days head on.



{March 15, 2015}   Please.

I’m having a panic attack, anxiety attack, whatever you call it. It’s 12:30 at night and I can’t breathe and my heart is racing so hard it hurts. I’m waiting for my Ativan to start, for the fear and terror to stop, writing this post as therapy to calm myself. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do with this BPD with all this work, this practice, where am I supposed to go, what am I meant to do. I’m scared of people, I’m scared of intimacy, I’m scared of truth. I’m scared of subjecting people to me. I don’t know what the purpose is, why on earth am I here and is this a big test, is their an answer, a rainbow, a trial at the end. Am I meant to find the right answer to every action and thought I make everyday because that’s what it feels like, a test everyday on surviving and picking the right multiple choice question. It’s all loaded with more wrongs than rights and more guilt than affirmation.

Some days I love the strength that DBT has given me and other days, like today, I still feel the weaknesses and flaws I have trying to find which is the correct me. Which is the correct choice, is it BPD mind or is it my mind, is my gut right or is it wrong. My gut is saying wrong wrong wrong, telling me I am wrong and my head has no idea on up or down but I can’t make more mistakes or work through anymore stress. I don’t know what is correct. Hand me that magic wand. Give me something easy for once. Just once hand me something on a platter and let me breathe for a few months. Joy, give me joy without repercussions.

Please. All I want is peace from this mind without death.



{March 12, 2015}   Rollercoasting

Therapy.

Went to it yesterday. It’s a waterfall of relief having a person that understands you, gets you, right down to the warped molecules floating angrily in your brain.

It’s been a hard, hard, unbearably hard 3 months. It seems incredulous to think it has only been 3 months, but I suppose things were not right prior, they came to a head 3 months ago but had been gathering for a few months before.

I feel starkly black and white in certain ways. I wake up every morning wanting to die, without a doubt, a seed so deep it’s curled into every muscle fibre and vein of my body, drinking deeply as I sleep. I don’t try and rip it out anymore, I just work through the pain each and every day to get up and go, till I can find the quiet in my head, the mindful practice that straightens me and the noise of the world to get out of the bed and begin.

I still laugh at the people that tell me, who know me, “you look like you’re in a good mood today”, as if by saying that it will make it so, make them feel like they’re what, right? Sure there are good moods, good days but you can’t see them by looking at me.¬†It just makes me feel like shit OK? So shut up. Because I don’t feel that way and we both know it. I always look like I’m in a good mood externally, I’m a trained BPD beast.

The days, the days are fine, I do my thing, the thing I am good at. It gives me routine, it gives me comfort and it makes me smile in my little bubble that I am making other people happy, creating worlds for other people. I don’t think my ex ever understood that, I want people to be happy, to build them events, find them that one piece that lights them up. It’s not the money, or the sale, or drive, it’s the fact that I can create for others what I cannot for myself. I am building a world of happy, even if for one day, and all it is is a fantasy. Everything is beautiful and perfect. Perfect, it’s what I am not, but what I can make. So, if I am tired and grumpy getting there, at the end of the haul, I get to see happy.

Nights, they’re hard too, but I have the pills at night and they cut the edge when the voices go astray¬†when all my strength starts to fade. Nights are hard, my personal horror channel starts when my eyes close. The thing is, it’s not horror, I want it, I am now just trained to reject it. All the daydreams of death, they’re pretty, and there is the me¬†that wants it so badly. I’m a trained dog, that’s told to sit and look at its food and not devour it, well trained I am. Don’t give in to those hunger pangs, Pavlov would be proud.

I’ve been trying to build community, my homework from therapy. To reach out and build relations. I pointed out it’s hard to build relations when you’re obscuring who you are to another person and are essentially pretending. Its basing a friendship on a lie. I have’t told my business partner of 2 years yet. I’ve lied to her so many times about hospital visits, illnesses, cuts. How do you come out of the mental health closet and not have people treat you differently. At the shop, the shareholders, who know, now consider every thing that might be off about me a “health thing”. Like, fuck off. Do you know how many people I know with who would tell you I am the most sane person out there, happy too.

Anyways, relations, I am building relations, reaching out to friends to “lunch” or inviting them to do things. It’s uncomfortable but necessary. I’ve realized it’s part of DBT, the relationship part, means more than just intimate relations, it means finding the boundaries and the mindful places with people. More training, setting my limits, testing how far to push and then pull back to find the right balance. When to go, when to stay in, when I want to stay in but should not. Or when to be in and not be out. Very confusing because my BPD self is an all or nothing beast. Black and white. Be a hermit or be a social maven, the in-between is a rocky road of self control.

Physically, feeling a bit scarred. It was a hard talk to have, that open yourself up and lay yourself out to someone. Though she’s my counsellor, it’s still vulnerable, to say that I don’t feel comfortable even thinking of physicality with another person anymore for fear of judgement. I was never sure if it was something wrong with me or him, that made me so undesirable. Months and every overture turned down. Was it because I was hard to please? Was it lack of skill? Was it a body type that was unattractive? What was it? What was it about me that was so undesirable? I look in the mirror and I don’t find myself unattractive, I don’t mind my own physicality, I’d walk around naked everyday all day if I could. I think for someone my age, I look good, yet… he never really looked at me that way, never wanted me. ¬†I don’t think I could handle rejection like that again. It was a searing lack of affirmation for someone that needs affirmation like myself. It is so odd to me that I feel this way because I have NEVER been that person. And it’s not that I don’t feel pretty, I do, it’s not the face value or body dysmorphia, I just feel undesirable. Sexless even.

Things aren’t bad right now, it’s just pointless. I’m rudderless and just living with certain spots of gaiety. Kids, all for the kids. Almost like being pregnant, you’re a vessel, existing for another life that you’re creating, or in this case created. I’m protecting myself for them. Building a life, for them.

So tired.



{March 3, 2015}   Romans 5:8

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Really having a hard time finding the light these last 6 weeks, it’s there but its pretty damn weak. I can’t put a handle on why I am convincing myself to keep enduring this misery. Sure, I am doing great, staying strong, just so I can keep this groundhog day of a nightmare ongoing? Truly it is very hard to answer the why each day. And I say the mantras, that “this too shall pass” and the question they always have you ask in class is “what is the worst this could possibly be?”. Unfortunate for me, death seems to be the answer to this one, and to the regular person that’s pretty damn bad. It’s very confusing and I keep anxiously turning each corner thinking that silver lining is going to pop out and surprise me but nope, still wake up each morning wondering why I am still here and why on earth should I make that effort to get up.

Im having one of my sleepless nights, my head is churning out scenarios of morbidity at an alarming rate and sleep is not to be had. Tomorrow I have a day off from work. Thankfully. If someone had handed me a revolver today i would have gladly shot myself a few times and enjoyed it. Work felt like nails on  chalkboard all day, and smiling was about as enjoyable as being water boarded.



et cetera
Life after BPD

Life after Borderline Personality Disorder; making a life worth living through love, laughter, positivity and Dialectical Behaviour Therapy

confessionsofbpd

The secret life of high-functioning borderline personality disorder.

Bi-polar parenting

Thoughts and ideas

forcing myself happy

One day at a time...for 6 months! :/

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