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.



{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.



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

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

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

evilboss

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

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

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

Work-Life-Balance-Sign-post-by-Stuart-Miles

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

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

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

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

leaderfunny

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



I have been trying to work my episodes out using my DBT skills the last 6 months, and its been very good for me but I have missed writing and putting my soul out on paper. Today the jarring lightening bolt strikes on the side of my head are piercing and I need a little old-fashioned written therapy. The pains up and down my side, the jerks of pain on the left side of my head and the incessant chiming and evil merry-go-round in my head has been palpitating for days and even for all my skills its muted till I relax or am alone in bed and the voices will not stop. This morning I was frozen to the bed, listening to my litany of abhorrent thoughts duck and dive through me with the icicle of sharpness scraping through my head.

In a relationship, if I can call what I have a relationship, I vacillate on taking my cues from DBT class which is to assess what the relationship means to you and act according to the charts, whether you stand your ground to make your point with little emotional investment in the relationship or acquiesce without harming oneself to maintain the relationship, of course, bringing in all the emotional and distress coping skills to not take oneself down the wrong path.

My boyfriend who is a good person, he is a good person, he gives and he is thoughtful and will physically be there for you. The caveat is on his terms, which is fair, his body, his life, his terms and one is taught to have no expectations and the only actions controllable are your own. Choose to accept or to walk away but not to blame or expect. If I need help moving, if I need financial assistance, if I need external distraction 150%.

domestic-violenceBut the rules reside in his court and his alone. I am the flawed one and in accordance with that I don’t get a full vote on anything, not even on my own feelings. I am told regularly what a sacrifice having a relationship with me is, that the fact that this is not a “normal” relationship taxes him and by that fact I owe him appreciation and that I have no right to have issues with him to discuss or even mention if my feelings are marred. So we are on different ground, I am the adopted stray or the half price item on the shelf that can be returned anytime if malfunctioning, or if your stray acts badly sent back to the kennel. That I need to keep this in mind when I have an episode, that he can only take so much and that my “acting” this way warrants my being given a warning that our relationship is predicated on my controlling my mental health and never voicing any hurt or injuries I may feel against him because for all he does for me, I have no right and if I do they are caused by my actions, my flaws and my inability to understand him which then “disappoints” him because stupid, mentally flawed me is “disappointing” for not understanding, for not appreciating, for not knowing that how I thing is wrong, that by not seeing it “the correct way”, marks another ground for dismissing me for being a lesser human being because there is only one way, his way.

My boyfriend is perfect. Not once in 2 years have I been able to bring up injured feelings or hurts without being lambasted about how I bring it on, I cause things to happen, I am the one at fault. There has never been an apology from his side, not once, not once has there been an acknowledgment that I can have a say in the relationship without being warned that any more of this nonsense from me predicates him leaving. All our talks round back to, because of my disadvantages, I need to be grateful for what I am given and for my flaws and disappointments, I need to behave. That the way he conducts himself with me is all for my benefit and how dare I ever mar the surface of his world by bringing my trivialities to the table. That he has enough on his plate that I should know that having a life threatening mental illness that needs support taxes him and I am to take it outside of our sphere because he has enough to worry about and my job is to make sure our relationship is an asset of positivity for him or he will discard me.perfect_boyfriend-379561

And I have tried to swallow and I will continue to swallow the hurts and bruised feelings that I have, which is normal in any relationship but ours, because he is perfect, there is no possible way his mind he can be less than so in a relationship as he says all the time, “he knows people” and he knows himself. Yes, he is a bit full on that front, there is no teaching an old dog new tricks, it is what it is, so anything I see I try to shut up. However, should I disrespect him, say something off colour, make a comment that makes him feel hurt, I am lectured till I am on my knees begging forgiveness. If the tables were turned and I felt an injustice, it is my fault, my doing, my making and he is not wrong, not liable, not ever possible he could have done anything less than perfect, because do remember I am being given a favour so suck it up and don’t be a “disappointment” for thinking he could ever cause me any hurt feelings.

He planned a week vacation with his brother and family, and I am all for family, its great, took the time off, put it together, and his brother, due to a mental illness of his own, had to cancel the day before. So he had the week free and I had a week in Paris with accommodations and food paid for so I invited him, to no avail he had to work and the plane ticket was too much. Though then he did take 3 days and went off on a trip of his own. But of course it was only 3 days and I am sure he spent less than the $600 ticket to Paris. You think?

When we are together his work is paramount and he is busy, all the time, no time and I do understand, so I shush, all the time shush. But if a friend wants to go roller blading, he will find the time, if friends want to go out on his boat he will find the time. If I go out-of-town, he will always go away on a trip but when I come back, he’s busy, too busy.

He said he was busy this week, had to get his things sorted out, two days after I left town, he’s going away for 4 days. We had a week planned together next week which got put on hold for a friends party but that still leaves us 4 days, I am pretty sure he will be too busy for that, I will let you know. So when I am in town it’s always busy, when I am out-of-town, all of a sudden its free for him to go away, no phones, no computers, inviting friends.

buddhist-monk-with-orange-robe-pray-in-temple-with-hands-claspedAnd the Buddhist way is to understand that you cannot control anyones actions but of course it hurts, hurts a lot. And I made the mistake of bringing it up, knowing all that I have written above, you know, I know, I needed to shut up and just carry on. But with a rough previous week, PMS and just coming off the pill, poor sleep, an episode was eminent and I could not control myself and out it all came. I know better, I know better that talking always makes it worse because on top of my hurt, I will not get understanding, I will find out all I am wrong, all I need to be grateful for and get a warning that any more episodes and I am on the street. It also feeds into my episode hearing how I am wrong, how I am unappreciative, how I am disappointing, how I have only a few chances left which is cocaine to the episode, sending it even further down and the pain is excruciating. Once the mental pain starts, the physical pain starts to set in and then it is past any relationship woes, its down to BPD survival and managing the episode as it crests (and LOL God forbid I ask support from him to make it through, I am meant to make our relationship an oasis of positivity and asset), chanting to myself everyday that this too shall pass, just a few more days, clutching and un-clutching the knife wanting to cut, deriving all my emotion regulation and distress tolerance skills I learned (in the class he paid for, I told you he was there physically).

Don’t get me wrong, I know it sounds horrible and on that level it is. I think I stay because I do love him (love never enters his equation so it will not be said) and I do feel like the charity case, that I deserve this coming from the half off bin. The other piece is, other than the ultimatums, I can handle the rest by off setting it with the 90% good and knowing that I can control yourself by walking away and not engaging. Buddhism teaches not to blame the other person, I am in control of how I feel and I need to take responsibility for my hurts and not place it on someone else, I have the choice to step away from conflict.

The ultimatums make me wonder if the work going into this and I have done a lot of work will ever go to somewhere solid. It takes a lot to bring yourself back from the brink of death twice. To find a reason to live everyday and to beat the monsters back everyday. But it comes down to the fact you can’t see mental illness, crazy is crazy regardless of whether its an illness. I know he doesn’t believe I am sick and I know he doesn’t believe that all of this is not just a figment of psychiatry. How I would wish him into my head one day so he could run screaming by what he could hear and see. I will never make him understand and I need to accept that. Any argument we have will always be an oxymoron that though he doesn’t believe I really have an illness, he will use my ilness  to let me know how much I need to appreciate what he gives to my non-illness. The end is I need to always know that though I am working to make this last forever regardless of everything above, his link to me is on a tether based on my “good” behaviour, having him in a relationship is a right that can be revoked at any time, it is not through good times and bad or in sickness or in health.

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I feel better, writing therapy is always good. Shut up, soldier on, stay true to the fact that the goal is to be healthy, not rely on others and be OK alone. Have no expectations and mitigate my hurts to myself and my therapy.



{November 28, 2012}   You Just Don’t Get It, I AM SICK

Well, I had a bit of a rage yesterday, this was after I had sedated myself for 24 hours with Trazadone and Seroquel. I began to have those thoughts of going to sleep and never getting up because the day was excruciating. No matter how much I think my BF understands, he still views my lows as just another thing I need to get over fast, like a little doggie, go over there relax it’ll be over. I think to myself, your regular cheerful GF is in bed, has not eaten for 24 hours and is drugging herself, do you not think he would be a little worried, no, not at all, figures if he leaves me alone, all will be well.

Next day, after being knocked out for a good 14 hours I had some strength to muster out but my limbs were still screaming and my head precipitous. I did some good things, got in the shower, went downstairs, with every step like descending on nails. I only had half my brain, the rest was still consumed by the episode, and you know, it is like being in a hazy fog and everything is a monumental effort that takes 250% to achieve. I also needed to support to try and make the hurdle out, so I kept trying to be near BF, because alone all the evil thoughts would suffocate me. BF keeps running away from me like I’m a needy plague, you can guess how the rejection then transpired, he told me I was a lot of work, needed too much. Of course I need him, I don’t have anyone else to help me and I am sure he didn’t want me walking over to the neighbours to support my BPD ass.

The switch flipped mentally before it did physically, anything I might have done to take 2 steps forward ended up 10 steps back. The despair and hopelessness broke the floodgates, I had to go hide in a corner just to quiet my mind enough to search for more pills to take me out because if not it would have been bad. I did stare at those pills a might bit too long, really didn’t want to get up. I threw down more Seroquel and Trazadone and BF comes up to tell me I am in his way again being in bed as he is working (putting up curtains). The physical rage switch which NEVER comes out of me went into overdrive, I could not believe the insensitivity and I guess neither could my inner demons because it took over and really all I could do was watch and listen to myself.

BPD Rage

Afterwards, I think he understood the severity but still not enough, but he did try, guilt trying. Made me want to just send him away and take more pills because at that point I felt like charity and he HAD TO support me.

Today is the 50-50 day, I slept another 12 hours last night which helped, but I’m wading carefully today, I’ve had a couple of pin pricks from BF but he has no idea each little one feels like a punch to the head. I have tried to stay as busy as the mind will let me while trying to stay in distress tolerance mode. BF made a crack about how he was focused and working hard and not just taking breaks and wasting time (that was a nod to me and a punch in the head, almost caved on that one). Little does he know how much work it is for me to just to be walking and talking today, that it is not over, still walking on eggshells.

You get it, we’re sick in our own way but because we can move and talk people put us aside as exaggerating or “being needy” and we just need to “get over it”. I screamed at BF that if I was hit by a bus I would get more sympathy, but because he can’t see it I just need to work it out. Getting hit by a bus would be far less painful and I would live and get support pouring out of him. My life long potentially fatal disease, not so much.



{October 23, 2012}   How much does rejection hurt?

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How much does rejection hurt? As much as depression hurts without the Cymbalta to help.

Took 2 more steps up my ladder to the flame today, it’s starting to singe. Yesterday the money woes started to catch up with me, that I shut it down, turned it off and ignored it. What more would it do than add to the despair. Today rejection struck another blow at a vulnerable point, my Achilles heel.

How do I describe the rejection of BPD. We are so vulnerable to rejection that I call it our Achilles heel, a tiny prompt that even hints at rejection spirals into inconsolable sorrow and internal self-flagellation of how unworthy we are. For me, it hits like a tsunami, immediate and encompassing that I feel like I cannot breathe and the tears come like someone has just punched me in the gut or thrown me facedown onto a concrete floor. As it continues nausea builds at how unworthy I am  that I want to vomit myself out.

I write this feeling the vice grip of steel bands around my heart and lungs, trying to focus on limiting the spread. I won’t go into the mitigating event because my focus right now is control. I turned on the TV immediately to find a distraction that I could concentrate on while I got my tears and breathing under control enough to move. Even now, an hour later, any backwards thought brings the force of tears to brim over and I have to focus on here and now, writing this blog with no other thought on my mind. I have the radio on too, LOUD.

I am at my mother’s house to have additional distraction, albeit I don’t talk to her about what is going on, I attributed my agitation to stress over my lack of a job and writing this as “work”. I am sure she may think my red eyes are a bit off but there’s always an excuse for everything.

My gut wants me to tune out the pain and not face it head on. I do need to face it and explain what I am feeling to the object of my rejection, so I can let it out. Our exercise in DBT was to opposite action. I want to curl into a ball at home, turn into the blankets and cry till nothing will come out anymore. Turn every form of communication of and just let the hurt suffuse me, not bother to do the work, and sink into the pain and my hatred of myself.

At this juncture I know what I need to do but I don’t know what I will do. I need to stay moving and engaged to not let it take over. Go out, don’t go home, use my skills to face it and explain it, knowing “this too shall pass”, it will always pass once I hump the hardest part of the next 12-24 hours and start the journey down without dissociating.

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{August 23, 2012}   Hallelujah

It’s been a rough start to my week. I came back from my trip to the cabin feeling good about the trip and my ability to use my newfound DBT skills to stay in the present and enjoy the time I had with my BFF. However, upon returning it was not so easy.

I was getting the cold shoulder from H, his way of punishing me, like the BPD child I am, positive reinforcement that I will always be a child and that he cannot understand. Monetarily this month has been awful, I had to swallow my pride and ask my mother for money today, something I never wanted to do. It brought out looming fears of what would happen if I could not work. There are a few DBT individuals in my group that do not work and are on disability living with family and trying to get better. I wish I had the luxury of having the time to focus wholly on getting better.

I opened up that I had BPD in group and for our destructive behaviour I talked about my cutting. It was hard and brought up tears from a few other cutters. I found out I am not the only one that digs her nails into their arm so hard to quell the rising internal pain when cutting is not an option. I am happy to be in group, it makes me feel good that other people can relate, and when I hear them talk I want to throw my arms around them and hallelujah that I am not the only inner child, anxious, needy, abandoned, unable to cope crazy person. I love that Y dissociates because normal people think I’m lying about separating mind and body, but the fact that Y does it too makes my heart sing that she can talk to me about pain making us split. That G also feels her boyfriend doesn’t understand how much it hurts when there isn’t reassurance and contact, and that he doesn’t understand the pain and abandonment that lives in our minds without the touch. That K has almost every single symptom I have, except that she’s on disability and her parents had to take a loan for her to be able to come to class, but in the last 3 sessions I have seen more life in her each time. That Y also takes a pen to paper and rips it to shreds when she can’t contain the emotion. B and K live in fear that their mental health will lose them their jobs, I get that. B said today he wished he as on crutches so people could see his illness, how many times have I said i would rather have cancer, diabetes, something on the outside so people would understand, I am sick.

I wish I could get Hugh and my family to take the DBT course for loved ones, so they can understand the fragility of our lives and that tiny pin pricks feel like stab wounds. And stab wounds feels like torture in a german detention camp. That lack of communication is crippling and takes our breath away. That we have raw skin on the outside of our bodies. I want them to understand so badly, that they would judge me less if they knew and could speak with someone when they didn’t understand as oppose to lash out.



{August 22, 2012}   Safety in Disassociation

This is a great excerpt I took off a post by Beyond the Borderline.

What she described to me was an instance of pretty intense dissociation. She was beyond the point of even crying. Her body and brain just shut down. She could walk and talk, but there were no more feelings. She moved to a place beyond her ability to feel emotion. Blank. Nothingness. There’s a reason for these defense mechanisms and sometimes I do think they’re a blessing. Especially since it only lasted that day and she was able to escape it. Imagine being under so much stress that your mind takes over and lets you have no say in how it functions and is able to interact with the world. It’s a really bizarre feeling.

Not all BPD persons experience disassociation and it is a very peculiar and out of control feeling when your mind and body shut down and you are a spectator watching yourself go through motions you neither care nor not care about. I liken it to watching a movie of yourself you have no control to stop, pause, rewind, just watch like a big screen movie.

For me, it only happens under extreme extreme duress and only a few times in the last 15 years. Once I had rented my vacation house out to a couple about to be married and she called screaming that he was trying to kill her. After the police, the hospital, the stress, the exhaustion, the sheer overwhelm off all I was doing hit, I blanked into zombie mode and eventually friends had to sedate me and put me to bed. The other couple of times have been with ex boyfriends, one was abusive and the other the emotional pressure was a catalyst. Thankfully, nothing has caused me great harm and perhaps the disassociation has saved me from hitting the edge and causing more harm in the situation.

 



{June 6, 2012}   The Verdict Handed Down

I am calm right now, had some seroquel force fed into me.

im at a loss for words, truly at a loss for words, feeling quite numb, probably from the drug and so much i want to write before i forget or fall back into the low again once the meds subside.

shocking, but given the last few days not shocking, very upsetting, not sure how to cope, i have been given 4 weeks off work. im not sure what that means, bills, money, need to claim disability, something, cant deal with it now, i cant take 4 weeks off and may have to ignore that order. 4 weeks off means i’ll have every creditor in the city after me.

my medications have been curtailed to two weeks at a time, just in case, i you know… limited supply on hand.

however, not on suicide watch!

been put on clonazepam for a little while till i can get a better handle and work through this period. i havent figured out how i am going to get myself to the pharmacy without breaking down sobbing at the counter since just getting to the hospital was a shaky affair. i should get it tonight but i know its not going to happen, i cant do it. i made it 3 nights, i can make it 4.

too many things at the same time, my regulation shut down, overloaded, depression. constant tension at work made me have to put so much energy into staying even and managing the barbs and lost a safe place, having 8 hours of my day fraught just elevated my stress, i didn’t take proper breaks to re-charge, my mother’s little dynamo of a secret rocked a fragile space with no resolution and festered, and hugh pretty much jumping ship and declaring me unworthy of anything further due to my BPD tendencies and not sticking by or believing me when the first true ugliness of my BPD came through when i had put my trust into him pretty much hit the last trigger of abandonment and rejection.  Then my own guilt and self recrimination, thinking that i must have been wrong and bad, could have done better, why am I such an awful person… and the rest is history

i got validation, my disassociation while traveling was not because i was a loose provocateur. given the history and the tension, plus the trauma of history, my outlet for pain was not available, and to fend of an episode my mind disassociated to cope. It is not a facet of my morality but as he put it, a multiplication of historical factors that would be hard for any BPD sufferer to handle even with DBT training and unlikely for all those triggers to happen simultaneously again as they were historically based on the volatility of the relationship. Like a cub protecting her young, i acquiesced to protect my mind and that was the right thing to do, in a weird warped clinical way i am sure no sane person could understand.

My fear of emergency, the fact that I didn’t go to emergency for fear of them throwing me back into the psych ward and not letting me out based on my history was calmed. Repeat after him, do not be afraid of the system, they are here to help me. My psychiatrist swore to me up and down that if I ended up there, to have his card, drop his name, he would come, he knows that i am very high functioning, this was a dip in the road, they would not hold me. I am “a great model of a recovering BPD patient”

it was ok that i called no one or asked for help. Because my trust was broken, it would have been hard for me to not have been caged about letting someone in to help for fear of them disappointing me. My cutting was moderate, i think they didn’t want to berate me, given that i was  about to collapse, and i had managed to come for help, which was a step in the right direction.

This does not mean I am not still here, lying on the floor, struggling, crying and panicking. I should go get the clonazepam but i cant, just like i cant go to work, i cant get up again, once was enough, and coming back home after some rest and a sedative im just calm and regulated enough right now to write this before we repeat the cycle for the next few days. Going to stay bad, the depression they say will be at least a few more days but if i get on the meds, focus and work hard on getting back in control i should be in a better place by Monday.

no one said anything about a support system, my babbling and crying about trust and fear in people perhaps made them think i could go this on my own for a little while to gain some strength before letting anyone in in case they imbalance me. If i get too scared alone i am to go to emergency and ask them to admit me till i feel calm again.

i can feel the drugs wearing off and the anxiety starting again. my head hurts. i havent eaten but the nausea of self loathing is still present. im jittery, trying to count the slats in the wood, feeling my twinkling shards of pain surfacing, i missed the shadows coming through, and its very quiet. regardless of what they say, the damage is still tight in my gut, and if i could shed this life and person for another, i would.



et cetera
Life after BPD

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

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The secret life of high-functioning borderline personality disorder.

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