borderlinegirlliveshere











{September 20, 2015}   How You Learn to Live Alone

First you fall, then you fly
and you believe that you belong
up in the sky.
Flap your arms, as you run,
every revolution brings you closer to the sun.
You fall asleep in motion, in unchartered
hemispheres,
and you wake up with the stars
fallin’ down around your ears.
And when they hit the ground,
they’re nothin’ but stones
that’s how you learn to live alone.
That’s how you learn to live alone.

Bit by bit, you slip away,
you lose yourself in pieces
by the things that you don’t say.
You’re not here, but you’re still there
The sun goes up and the sun goes down,
but you’re not sure you care.
You live inside the false,
till you recognize the truth.
People send you pictures,
but you can’t believe it’s you.
Seems forever since your house
has felt like home
that’s how you learn to live alone
that’s how you learn to live alone.

It don’t feel right, but it’s not wrong.
It’s just hard to start again this far along.
Brick by brick, the letting go,
as you walk away from everything you know
When you release resistance
and you lean into the wind,
till the roof begins to crumble,
and the rain comes pourin’ in,
And you sit there in the rubble,
till the rubble feels like home
That’s how you learn to live alone
that’s how you learn to live alone
that’s how you learn to live alone

https://youtu.be/yY8y4tEJz3A

Learn to live alone

Read more: Nashville Cast – How You Learn To Live Alone Lyrics | MetroLyrics



Moods. dysregulation, like pleasantly drowning in quick sand, the sensation leaches into you, like that slow pin prick into a vein. You feel that warmth, blanketing like mugginess on a hot day, steaming and settling onto your skin, the poison, velvety caressing into your veins, drawing you down. Each breathe is a sinking , languid melt you don’t want to fight off, it’s easy to slide into that comfort of turning off the pain, the triggers, the hurt, the chaos. Each breath deeper into the warm mud, closing in, safe, terrifyingly safe. Depression is a womb, it comforts and envelopes, seals you off into a space where you’re suspended in hurt and sorrow, all you know, timeless, un-seeing. There is no up or down, around, sights, smells, all you feel is hurt, bone deep hurt, everywhere, out your eyes, in your skin. You’re meant to fight this, don’t sink into the warm cocoon of the sand, don’t slide into the mucus of the womb, because once in, you’re trapped, coming out is a labyrinth of emotions, and days of recovery.

But how to elude the crumbs of safety, come in and we will make you safe, warm, turn off that outside world, to hell with working through all the pain, let it welcome you, let’s revel in it, become it, and lose oneself in it.

I know I don’t want this but I am just too tired to fight all the triggers, they’re all around and I am tired. Each one seems bigger than the next though infinitesimally smaller, crashing in never ending waves and I’m drowning, can I not just drown?  I am tired of swimming, I am tired, and I am tired of people and their pokes and prods, tired of smiling, tired of trying to be me, the smiling me.

So easy to let go, so much easier to find that hole and crawl in, womb, wave, sand, take me to nothingness. Instead, put the training on, the hard hat and back to fighting, fighting all the demons that come within it, inviting me down down down to their opulent palace of oblivion and panacea of anaesthesia.

I will win the fight, again, as always. In the meanwhile, let’s face the pain. Pray its sticks and stones and not knives and bloods.



{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 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.



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.



{February 14, 2015}   Alone in this BPD mind

My counsellor asked me yesterday if I was suicidal. Yes, I want to to die, with all my might right now, it is all I want to do BUT I’m not going to. I am suicidal, can I control it. Yes.

Power, someone said I wanted power, that I was on a power trip. It was such a ludicrous thought I realized that person knew nothing about me. Power? I barely can find the days to quit hating myself and wanting to die to bother finding power. I want the power to end it all without putting others in pain, that’s the power that I want. To be let go without the guilt. All these other things I do to live, does anyone truly think I want any of life? Life with BPD is being ruled by one big power trip you can barely control. Jump off that building without ruining my children’s lives, that’s the power I want.

There are days, like now, where to feel good about myself I need to read about myself, to know that what I feel is not isolated, that it is disease. That it cannot be logically fixed and solved. I read about me so I feel better that I am not alone and though I feel achingly alone, there are other people, like me, in pain, aching, just wanting the world to swallow them up, reading.

Loneliness and Lack of Self Worth 

Many people with BPD are isolated from conventional family or friendship situations.  As many people around them do not know how to cope with the sufferers behaviour, they tend to withdraw from their friend or relative.  This leads the person with BPD to feel lonely and worthless.  They already have a very low self-esteem and this makes it worse.  People with BPD are like anyone else, they want to feel loved, but in their case it is more extreme.  Left alone for too long and they believe nobody wants them.  This is mainly caused by rejection at a young age, it is learnt behaviour.  The self-loathing and fear of abandonment also causes loneliness.

Psychosis

Have you ever felt out of control?  Maybe you have felt like you are in a tunnel, no fear or thought of safety for yourself or other.  Detachment from reality, at times, can be how be how someone with BPD feels.  Often they suffer from intrusive thoughts or hear voices.  The only way to describe how it feels to have intrusive thoughts or hear voices is, imagine someone is with you 24 hours a day, imagine this person is saying things like “hurt yourself,” or “the devil is following you, he will take people away from you.”  Often the thoughts or voices will play on the sufferers insecurities.  Some people have other hallucinations or believe they have super powers.  Commonly people with BPD only have mild psychosis but occasionally some sufferers have more severe psychosis.  Mostly they only have psychotic episodes induced by stress.  Think about it, if you go to a party and everyone around you is drunk, and you do not like it, you would remove yourself from the situation, right?  In the BPD sufferers situation, the brain is removing it’s self from the problem which is the persons thinking and thoughts.

Depression, Self Harm and Suicide

Everyone goes through periods where they feel down or depressed.  But for a BPD sufferer it is like that very much of the time.  Also severe depression will flood them from time to time.   How often do you wish you were not alive any more?  Maybe once in your life but most likely it hasn’t ever crossed your mind.  A majority of people with BPD think about it very regularly.  In fact for a BPD sufferer it becomes normal and it can be quite a surprise to them when someone tells them they never think of it.

Have you ever been in so much emotional pain that you’d do anything to relieve it?  Trying to counter act the emotional pain with physical pain is logical if you think about.  It’s like tooth ache, you’d do anything to relieve it.  So one of the reasons a sufferer self-harms if to get some relief.  Another cause for self-harm in a BPD sufferer is self-loathing, they feel so bad about themselves that they feel they need to be punished.  Self-harm is not always a sign of a suicide attempt, it’s just a reflection of how the person is feeling on the inside.

Threats of suicide are common among people with BPD, and it’s also not uncommon for them to make an attempt at ending their life.  Life with Borderline Personality Disorder is ten times harder than for a non-sufferer. Imagine how the constant fear and pain must be.  Suicide threats are like a safety net, “If I really can’t stand my pain any more, then I can escape,” makes sense doesn’t?  If you walked through a bed of stinging nettles you would think of trying to get yourself out wouldn’t you?

Withdrawal from Others

Many people with BPD have times when they withdraw from the world.  They stop working and socialising.  If you were hurt by something you would try and avoid letting it happen again, wouldn’t you?  So this can be why someone with BPD may become distant and unresponsive to friends and family.  In most cases this withdrawal doesn’t last for more then a few days, weeks or months, but in some sufferers it can last much longer.  When withdrawn the sufferer will feel depressed and isolated.



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 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.

Namaste.



et cetera
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