The one that starts out happy but ends on a bad note...why does that happen so often?

My depression has lifted!!!  I still have to deal with BPD and an anxiety disorder but my depression has LIFTED!  It feels really nice to be able to have some positive thoughts and optimism.  I'm hoping it lasts for at least a week.   Maybe this year of hell is over.  Maybe my life will go back to the usual borderline "craziness" and I will no longer live in this deep, dark and secret hole that I have inhabited for close to a year.

That acutally sounds strange, doesn't it?

I am looking forward to my life with BPD?

No, of course not because borderline is it's own kind of hell but it's much worse when you pair it with an anxiety disorder AND deep depression.

I am hoping that it's the medication and therapy that are helping because if they are, I may have a chance at keeping this good feeling.  If it's just a fluke, a flash in the pan, well then I could sink back under at any moment.

As I have said before, I can't really put a finger on when my emotions began to rule my world.  I believe it started at a young age.  I believe that growing up for me was a nightmare of it's own.  The problem is that I don't remember a lot of it and the majority of what I do remember is bad.

Enter... the Facebook photos....dah, dah, dah  (that was supposed to sound dramatic)

A few days ago I logged into Facebook just to see what was going on.  There they were on my page.  Someone had posted pictures (and tagged me in them)  of  what appears to be two different parties.  The comments under the pictures were things like "oh, I remember this like it was yesterday" and "Check out our acid washed mini skirts, I hear they're coming back in style".  Someone asked how old we were when these were taken and another replied that we must have been in grade 6 or 7.

I don't remember those parties like they were yesterday.  I don't even remember all of the kids in the picture or on the thread. I certainly don't remember getting invited to parties! I did recognize two girls.  I remember that I wanted to be like them.  They were pretty and confident.  No one teased them.  Everyone liked them.  They were always nice to me.

So there I was.  Sitting in a chair smiling at the camera.  I had shoulder length hair (permed of course..it was the 80's after all) and a pretty smile.  My eyes were were big and beautiful.  I can't help but notice that all though I was quite thin, my legs look really nice in that acid washed mini skirt. I look happy.  I look innocent.  The girl in the photo is not the girl I think of when I go back to those days in my mind.

 

 
In my mind, that girl is ugly.  She has a big nose and horrible teeth.  She has an obnoxious personality that no one liked.  She is too skinny and her clothes aren't cool enough to be a part of the "in" crowd.  She is reminded of these things every day by all of the other kids.  They go out of there way to be cruel.  They follow her home after school spitting on her and calling her by a nickname.  Every where she moves, every new school she goes to has that one kid who thinks they are original when they come up with that nickname. It's always the same one.  It will haunt her through to grade 10.  That's when she will turn to the world, give it the finger and become what society considers "bad".  The kids didn't bother her after that.  They just left her alone.

O.K!  That was just a horrible moment.  Going back to that place in my head is not a great place to be.  Let's get back on track shall we?

My point is this.  When I looked through the pictures... I saw a different girl looking back at me.  I wasn't any of those things.  There was nothing wrong with the way I looked.  And on top of that, there I was at a party with two girls that I remember being pretty popular.  It looks like I must have had some friends.  I seem to be enjoying myself.  No one is pointing and laughing.  And it's more beautiful because I realize that my gorgeous daughter looks like me!

So here is my problem.  I don't know what is real anymore.  How "horrible" were things really?  Did I get teased here and there but because of BPD it was blown out of proportion in my mind?

  In my mind, the teasing never ends.  Even my little brother used to get in on the act by shooting spit balls at me on the bus with the other kids.

I know it all happened.

But then how do you explain this seemingly happy moment captured forever on film.  Further more, if it is my mind, then have I remembered the abuse from my father incorrectly too?  Did we really have more good times than bad?  I have heard of people blocking out all of the bad things that have happened to them but never all of the good!

This is something I will have to bring up to the Dr. on Friday.  Maybe she will have an answer.  How early can BPD possibly start?

In the mean time.  Some of these girls contact me every once in a while just to say "hi".  Do you think it's a good idea to ask them what they remember?  If I do, they will know how much it has upset my life.  I don't really want them to know but I would like an answer to my question.

Was it really as bad as I believe it was?

Girls who are hated by everyone don't get invited to parties.  Do they?

In and Out

If you die you're completely happy and your soul somewhere lives on. I'm not afraid of dying. Total peace after death, becoming someone else is the best hope I've got.
- Kurt Cobain


 My mind plays tricks on me.  I can't decide if things are getting better or just staying the same or maybe becoming worse than ever.

My weeks have been peppered with good days.  Sometimes these days last two in a row!  What are "good days"?

A very good day would consist of the absence of sadness, pain, anxiety, shame and anger.  On these days I am able to smile and sometimes even laugh with those I love.  I have patience for my children (and others) and I feel competent.  I feel like I can really get things done.  I am able to look forward to the future and I am pretty optimistic.  I can be optimistic because I usually forget how bad it was when I was down.

I find it hard to remember how it feels to be in my emotions.  I am only reminded when I am in the thick of it.  I do however remember the "high" of happiness.  To me it has become a drug that I want more of.  I rarely get even a small dose but when I do experience it I truly put myself in the moment.  This is a DBT practice that I usually have to work very hard at unless I am having an exceptionally lovely emotion.  It is then that I soak it up rather than being soaked up by it.  I'm not too sure if that makes sense to anyone else but it does to me.

Today I am full of shame and anxiety.  DBT is teaching me the importance of labeling my emotions and then describing them.  It helps if you can figure out where they are coming from.  Two days ago I attended a wedding reception.  I drank a little more than I should have and now I worry that I said or did things to offend those around me. Possibley the bride and groom.   My boyfriend says I didn't but he wasn't with me all of the time.  I tend to misbehave more when he is absent.  Wedding's always bring up negative emotions for me.  When I pair them with alcohol it's never good.  I hurt myeself that night after everyone left the house.  Why do I do that?

My AHA!!! Moment

 Artwork by: Angelina Wrona (this one is my fave.) "Psst"




I've been dealing with my mental illness for so long that it has become who I am.  Everyday, every where I go it's there with me.  I suppose this is why I just assume that other people see it.  That they see there is something not quite right.

Today that assumption changed.

I was on the 9th floor of the hospital which is the Acute Mental Health level.  While waiting for the elevator (the very slow elevator)  a pair of paramedics with a stretcher came out of the locked area where they keep the admitted patients.  The elevator doors finally opened and we all piled in.  I always feel akward when other people get on the elevator with me.  They know what floor I'm coming from and I have always assumed that they know I'm a patient.  I am embarrassed by the fact that I'm a patient.

I pressed the button that would take us to the first floor and the doors closed.  It was silent for a little while.  You know what I mean.  That strange kind of silence that feels very uncomfortable because you are all in such close proximity.  The younger of the two men looked at me and grinned.

"did you sign yourself out?"

He laughed at his own joke.

At first I thought that I should take offense.  I mean really. It's not something to tease a person about!

"remember you have to stay on hospital property"

Again, he found himself very funny and laughed.

It was then that I realized (I think this is due to my DBT group) that he wasn't making fun of me at all!

He was being a bit flirty and he didn't realize or even think that I was a patient!  He was treating me as a "normal" person and that I was a part of an "inside joke".  He was making fun of the mental patients with me as if I wasn't one.

I usually judge the other people that come into my DBT group.  I usually judge anyone coming from the 9th or 10th floor.  A lot of the time I can (or I think I can) peg who is a patient and who is a visitor.  The patients usually look a bit rough, out of place or somewhat poor.  I realize that this is a horrible judgment as I am one of them and I realize that I am awful for secretly thinking that I am better than most of them.  This is something that I would NEVER openly admit.  I guess I have been feeding into the stereotype that I have been fighting so hard to dispel.

Don't get me wrong.  There are occasions when I meet patients that I feel are more like me.  They look like everyone else.  They appear to "have it together".  I have always tried very hard to obtain this type of appearance but was never sure if I was pulling it off.

Today I found out that I am.

It felt good.  Really good.

Now I know that I don't appear to be "defective" to anyone.  I blend in.  That's all I ever wanted to do.

I have learned a lesson.  I am going to make a conscious effort to refrain from judging others based on their appearance.  I was wrong and ignorant.  Mental health can affect anyone from every walk of life.  There is no "face" to Borderline Personality Disorder.  There is no standard "look".  We are simply people just trying to feel better and struggling to survive.

It's hard enough living with this illness without having to worry about what clothes you are wearing or if your hair is out of place. 

Lesson learned!

Failure

Artwork by: Angelina Wrona  "Sakura"

One of the medications I'm taking is making my head feel fuzzy. I feel restless and cannot sleep without taking Seroquel. I used to sleep a lot so this is a huge change for me. I'm glad I'm not so tired anymore but I can't stand the feeling of fuzziness in my brain.

My son is not doing well in school. He says he doesn't care. He says he wants me to stop caring about what he does and that he hates coming home. He is complaining that I'm trying to make our family perfect by cooking meals and insisting that we eat together at the table. It's upsetting me. I am getting frantic and I am having drastic idea's of what I need to do next.

I keep telling myself that I need to sell the house and go back to where I started. It was safer in subsidised housing. If I got sick, my rent simply went down. Now I'm VERY sick and the mortgage just stays the same. My boyfriend cannot pick up the slack and I don't think I should expect him too. He entered this part of our relationship with the understanding that we would both be working and that I would pay my share. I cannot expect him to take all of the financial burden. I am going to be getting long term disability from work but it's not nearly as much as what I was earning. I feel sorry for him and have thoughts of running away to save him.

I believe that I set myself up for this. I set my goals high, wanting to prove to my family that I could be somebody. My dad died before he could see what I had accomplished however I felt proud of myself regardless. Now I fear that I took on too much. I fear that I'm about to lose everything. I think my mother and brother were just waiting for this to happen. They always expected me to fail.

As for my son, I think I messed up. My daughter is very smart but she is displaying signs of low self esteem and a negative attitude towards herself.

What have I done?

I don't deserve to have children.

I should let my boyfriend go. No one deserves this life. It's not his fault I have this sickness.

I am a monster.

Panic Time

Art Work By: Angelina Wrona "Dee Dees Hideout"


Do you ever have those smack yourself in the forehead moments?

I had one last night.

I have not told my employer or employees why I am off sick. All they know is ...I'm off sick.

I have been using Twitter as a means of meeting others with my illness. I have been posting my blog link there. I did this all under my real name. Anyone could look me up, ANYONE!

Last night this thought occurred to me and that's when I did it. I smacked myself in the forehead and under my breath muttered the words "what have I done"?

I mean really!? What was I thinking. I am now convinced that someone from work has looked me up and the "story of my life" has been spread throughout the store. This realization is not working so well with my BPD way of thinking. I am FREAKING out. I have now deleted my beloved Twitter account and started a new one under a new identity. It won't be easy rebuilding but it's all I could do.

I was not ready to go back to work as it is but now, I feel I just can't.

Perhaps I should request a transfer to another location?

I'm not really sure what to do at this point. Any suggestions?

3 Days of Hell

 Artwork by: Angelina Wrona  "Water Lily"



All I can say about the past few days is that I rode the storm hard and fast and seem to have made it out with little damage. Apart from some minor cutting ( just enough to get the edge off) I am unharmed.

By today I thought it was over. There was no way out of this horrible, shitty hand I've been dealt other than death.

What kept me here? My boyfriend is away on vacation. I have no one to turn to where we live as this is his city, not mine. Who would take care of my kids? Did I really want one of them to find me? What if I didn't finish what I started, end up in hospital and they take the kids away forever? No, I just couldn't deal with any of those options. It seems that I am still waiting for the perfect time. When all of the pieces are in the right places.

I will never escape BPD. All I can do is try to survive it everyday.

Tonight I did the housework while ranting and yelling. I managed to cook dinner and around that time I finally, after my 3 day "episode" began to feel the calm.

Now as I type this I am optimistic about tomorrow. Another DBT class. And who knows what else. I pray I will be content. I'm not even asking for happy anymore. Just to be content.

The Beginning of Something Bad

Artwork By: Angelina Wrona "Framed"



Empty. A shell of a person. That is who I am.

I just came home from my DBT group. I am broken after what happened at Thanksgiving dinner. I have decided to cut myself off from that part of the family. I no longer feel that I can trust my son. He is on their side now. I've lost him forever.

If my boyfriend was here, if I had anyone here to care for my daughter...I would be gone tonight.