borderlinegirlliveshere











{May 13, 2015}   Springing Forward

5 months in to the new year and change is in the air, like Spring, there is a sense that there may be a sense of renewal. I get scared to write things down, positive things, like in some way I may jinx it by saying it loud. That there is an almighty evil residing not only inside of me but around the corner that senses positivity and will come down with a mighty roar of Thor’s hammer. It’s been 5 months of step by step, eyes to the ground, one foot in font of the other. I did things for myself, i went away, i took a good girlfriend and got to know her better, i lived in the moment in my happy place, and it’s made a difference. In my low times, i bring up that trip, the sun, the freedom, the immense sense of joy of being somewhere i love and it’s carried me through some hard welling of emotion that have stopped me in my tracks the last couple of months.

It’s been a jigsaw, 1000s of pieces slowly fitting together, many times not fitting and coming back to try again. My emotions are very strong now since I stopped my medication but I am stronger for having the control. I can 95% of the time feel the trigger impulse and squash if not deflect, or realize when i need to duck and hide, retreat.

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There’s been a village of assistance with my psychiatrist back from maternity leave. I was scared to tell her that i cold turkey stopped my medications because I needed to work through the pain of separation, feel it, hurt through it and beat the BPD bastard so I knew I could live through not just this break up but any others to come, that I had the strength, in me, and just me, no medications, no fall backs. Hallelujah to her for understanding and supporting me and truly if she was around I may not have done it, but now that I have I’m a poster child. My counsellor has been a Godsend, a true godsend. My life is an open book in counselling and in class, i live through a village of guidance, nothing is sacred. I’d rather have it all out there and let’s help me live all together, because that is the point, for me to live, no matter what it takes.

Class gives me perspective in pain, that we all sit in there suffering through this pain of mental health. I am so honoured to be with people who are fighting just as hard with just as much stigma as I face. Judgement, it’s there all the time, from people you work with, unwitting friends, boyfriends, friends, exes. Like my life is a game, that somehow they have a right to weigh in with judgement or comments or think they know. It’s when I sit in class and hear the stories that I realize I am not alone, others face the same judgements and stigmas from loved ones and strangers alike and it gives me the push to ignore the people who want to derail and push my triggers. Don’t judge me unless you are me, I can’t even begin to think I can understand a fellow BPD pain but I can contextualize it far more than anyone else can.

I still struggle and tomorrow is still a scary place, as is next week, next month. There is never a sense of security, i feel the bottom could drop out at anytime. Small steps, forward. At least I know where bottom is and if I have pockets of up, I should enjoy them no matter what as my counsellor says, let myself revel in it for as long as I can.

I felt so guilty for a while of so many things, of finally making that stand that I needed to take time for myself to get out of this town. I’ve said it over and over again through the years, get out every 2 months and yet guilt and shame from others made me feel like i was joy riding rather than doing something for my health. Now that I am alone, and I have done it and seen the rejuvenation, the spring I can pull from, please let me have the strength to continue to defy those that guilt me for doing so.

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Work, it doesn’t help, but we all know this, counsellors, psychs, peers, we all know that work and BPD, stress and BPD is like feeding crack to an addict, it helps but it doesn’t help. It gives a purpose but it comes with its strings. It reminds me of being in a batting cage with the ball machine on the fritz, swinging that bat wildly to ensure you don’t get knocked out cold. You score some home runs but it’s not relaxing. My counsellor asked me if I wanted a career, and the truth is, no, I don’t. I have no desire to grow bigger and add-on additional stress or more eyeballs. I’m here because I need to pay the bills but truth be told, if I could leave this town and move somewhere more open and meaningful where i was working and accomplishing but not dealing with the shit race of life, take me there. I need to get out of this town and it’s plastic pretences, fear of transparency and lack of balls. People in this town are all about smoke and mirrors, just get over yourselves and your judgements, wrapped up in a pretty bow of perfection.

Dating, it’s been a hot topic at therapy and group. So, we have all started dating. I say “we” because it has become a dating by consensus, even though it’s just me on the front line. I like it, it’s like having all your friends watch your back and I don’t have to make any decisions on my own and it makes me feel more secure that there is a check and balance built into me. It’s been fun bringing everything to the mental health table every week for group discussion. That word “fun”, makes me cringe most times. This life is the furthest thing from fun. The furthest thing from “happy”. Two most dreaded words I hate to hear people ask me, “are you happy?”, fuck no, but I am alive and I have good moments. Happy, go ram that up your ass, I haven’t found happy in 15 years for more than a few hours.

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Dating. It’s meticulous. Dating the correct BPD way, maybe I can start a manual. Everything close to your chest and make sure you put out all the disclaimers and warnings right off the bat, here it is, read it and proceed at your own risk. Makes me laugh. So stressed the first time and now, I don’t care if people know I have a mental health disease. Would I judge someone for cancer, no, I’d empathize. My ex-DBF used to care so much about perception and what people thought that it made me almost ashamed of my BPD and my scars. This is me, through and through, I am not afraid to tell someone what I am and what I have been through, yes I cut myself, you can see it, and I am alive. You have an issue, it’s not my problem, its yours. Second thing, past the warning, it’s not about my health, no day-to-day health or stress sharing, that’s my game and my game alone. I deal with my issues, it stays on this side of the pie chart, dating on the other, the two do not co-mingle. It’s been weird but good, it’s likely obvious I am withholding things but I’ve gotten good at working through my troubles alone or in group or with counselling, no need for a layperson that doesn’t understand to get into the mix. I don’t need another person to handhold my BPD, I have a village behind me for that and some awesome friends to call. Dating stays in the neutral zone, no need to get deep, three’s a crowd, BPD can stay home and join me later.

So, step by step, health first, kids next, everything else is tertiary. I say that mantra to myself everyday I step out the door and to work. I know what I need for my health, I’ve made some big changes on my own, so tune out the naysayers and the judgements and stigma and one step in front of the other.

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{April 13, 2015}   The Skeletons in My Closet


{April 10, 2015}   Malaise

The malaise is settling back in. Woke this morning to feel the baby devil on my chest and the tightness radiating through my windpipe and down my lungs, slowly tightening the air from my soul, reminding me that it may abate but never leave. Pushed up and out to get up, walking zombie legs and mind, that thrumming of negativity behind each step, knocking, incessant. Sat in the car after dropping the kids of willing myself not to cry with the pain of breathing and knowing that the weeks ahead will be inhumane work to make it through without a hit to the wall.

Are we wired to be happy, I don’t believe so, BPD we are wired to be sad, death-full, pointless, we’re wired to misery. Like the pam trees on the beach reaching to the ocean, no matter how you try, you cannot bend that trunk any other way, it may sway and move to and fro in the wind, but that bark is permanently grown facing the direction it was meant to be. I find happy so fleeting, I have it, and when I do, I treasure it like a newborn baby, watching it breathe, hoping it stays alive, cradling it’s sensitive spots and enjoying the smell of life and renewal.

Work is a dark knife that is pushed so deep inside of me, each flicker of a movement, no matter how slight, triggers a nauseating amount of bile to rise up figuratively and at times literally. I spend so much time reading, researching and re-reading and my core is trust, I need trust and I don’t feel trust at work. My back is vulnerable, there is no comfort that my partners have my back, instead it is more of a scrutiny and constant watch that bores holes into me. I can’t settle into this job because I don’t find it a trusting place. I make it a trusting and nurturing place for my staff but the partner side is a mess. When I worked this job before, 5-6 years, we were a family that leaned on one another, shared and no matter what, business or work, people came first and we were a team through thick and thin. Now, thin means cause and effect, repercussions, scrutiny, and a constant “watch my back” feeling that twists the knife ever so slightly each time and makes me want to crawl into bed and find that depression.

I would say that maybe this is me but I know I have worked other places, like the former iteration of this job and with my other partner with no cause and effect. For me, it comes down to the people and to the trust I feel in them. My other partner, we’ve been in harder situations and more emotional ones, living one on top of the other, and yet we persevere because trust, admiration and an acknowledgment that people come, we come, before our jobs. We’re not robots and I do not govern myself without emotion, it’s my BPD hallmark and I have grown proud of the positive sides of being a person that cares. But oil and water… they will never mix, so we can keep stirring that pot, and stirring that pot and it’s still going to be a slimy, incoherent, mess.

Happiness. I can access it, bring a smile, find a bright moment before I stumble into the grey. Yes, grey, not black, we still have some light in there. It’s hard to go to the light and come back to this horrible, closed up, trussed up city I live in. It’s disgusting really. But I know the devil of this place and it has saved my life a few times, and, by nature of yin and yang caused me to need saving of said life. So best thing for me to do, shrink pep talk, look at my calendar, find the spot 3 months from now to put a light and work towards getting there and leaving again for a respite to come back and do this all over. Yes, work will have another eyebrow raising moment but fuck them, better alive and working than dead. I know what I need- their world may be about the bottom $ line, mine is about staying alive for my children. If they can’t see that they can take their business, up their ass and keep it. I’m working my ass off, maybe not in their “logical, functional, spreadsheeted” way, but my way, which doesn’t mean it’s the wrong way if it’s not their way. And, being in this business long enough, if you get rid of too much of my way, your way will go down with it.

#hatingthiscity #hatingthislife #babyboomerssux #lovemykids #happiness



{April 5, 2015}   Fill The Well

Last final days of being away. In this time my heart has expanded, contracted and at times split and spilled over with love and pain. Many memories here, coming back after 3 years. The fear of facing memories of my overdose and my subsequent departure into the wind, with not a word to a soul, had me scared of what my welcoming would be. Would people still remember me, accept me into a community I can call nothing else but home, or would I be an interloper, trying to feed back in after turning my back on many that had welcomed me into their home, their island, as a Belonger.

I was scared, very scared, but part of what this year has been for me is facing my fears, setting my boundaries and doing what is right for me and living through what those consequences, good or bad may be.

There is so much love here, belonging and community, giving that I cannot find in my city life. I walk out the door and I can’t help but smile at the feeling of being part of something, of a bigger whole that takes care of its pieces. Not just a dot in a sea of faces as it is in my “other” home where there is no whole, it’s all fragmented parts, people in lobbies that don’t make eye contact, neighbours that don’t care to make friends, strangers that can live side by side for years and never forge a bond. Acquaintances that are looking for the next best acquaintance to further their needs.

Not that my heart hasn’t yawed open at times here, some memories and misunderstandings are fresh and cannot be solved, and they caused such a tightening I thought I could not breathe. Walk away, I did, I walked away, to know that you cannot be everything for everyone and not everyone will understand BPD and suicide. I lost a friend who did not understand, it hurt, but luckily I had 2 friends to hold me up and walk away.

And old friends, they came out of the woodwork, no questions asked. You’re from here, will always be from here and they cannot wait till I return. That causes pinpricks of sorrow, can I ever come back here, can the 2 lives ever intertwine? So diametrically different that I do wonder if there is a split personality that can make me so able to rotate between both so easy. In no way are they the same, or am I the same. Where am I happier, here, with more people, more love, more belonging. Back in the city, its a handful of few, and when you’re in the crowd, you are no one, no one cares. And in the city you are stuck, maybe not stuck but attached to so few, your boyfriend, your best friend, your sister, but the rest are just faces in the crowd, you cannot reach out and touch someone.

I love walking out the door and running into everyone, walking down the street, shopping, sitting at a restaurant and it could be anyone from the taxi driver to the hotel owner, a celebrity, there is no class here, it’s flat, we are all friends. If you need friendly words and company it’s never far.

The city I live in is all about the who’s who and what can you do for me, I don’t trust my back with anyone. I don’t even trust my business partners, I am sure they would throw my BPD under the bus if it served them right. My biggest dread of leaving is going back to that, the constant tension and unease of what’s coming down the pipe next. You can’t run a business without trust and feeling like the other side has your back, for me I feel like it’s N and S Korea, I don’t trust anything and I am not giving anything or sharing anything lest it come back to shame me for my naiveté. It’s all about the bottom line there, it’s not about people, it’s about money. It’s not about feeling, it’s about logic. It’s not me and I feel like a fish in a sea of sharks trying to stay afloat and not ripped apart.

I digress. My heart is happy, my soul is full. I need to take this feeling back and let it buoy me through the next few months if I can. I have done, felt, lived all that I have missed in the last 3 years. I have felt the love, the warmth, the acceptance, and know I can come back and be welcomed with open arms, no judgement. I have a sadness that says, I likely will never return to live, the 2 lives have no intersection point, if I forge one there it never runs perpendicular, and the same for here. So, for now, a day at a time, create a memory box, save some money to maybe come back if the well needs filling.

I am glad I did this, through the insecurity and fear, I faced it, I conquered, and now onwards.



{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 😦 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—we 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, “What can I do for you right now?”

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.



et cetera
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