It is almost a year since I received the diagnosis that I had borderline personality disorder (BPD) alongside anxiety and depression. At the time I really had no idea what this meant for me or the incredibly difficult rollercoaster ride that this would be.
I have felt many times like I am just going round and round in circles and that I am really no further on than I was a year ago despite having had some therapy. The only thing which I can say that has truly changed is that I know that I am not the only person who has these mental health issues, I am not the only person who has been through the things that I have been through and there are others who feel like I do. This, after so many years is probably one of the few things that has really made much of an impact on the way I think.
However, despite this, I still feel alone and isolated. It is a relief to know that I am not alone, that there are others to talk to, who understand and can empathise with me, but the thoughts, the flashbacks, the feelings of being overwhelmed, they are individual and no one can share those with me. I feel like such a freak a lot of the time. The smallest things seem to get to me, ridiculous things make me well up and cry my eyes out.
I feel like I am a thousand years removed from the person that I had been up until last year. I was never particularly confident, but I was organised and could deal with things. I went out, could go to the supermarket without having a panic attack because there were too many cars in the car park (did this only 3 weeks ago). I had ambition and would think things through and then make whatever it was happen. In 2009 we moved from London to Northern Ireland. I organised that move. In 2011 we moved back to London, again I did all the organising and that was with gallstones, a college course and 3 kids to manage. I could do things. Now, I freak out at having to answer the phone to a number I don’t recognise, I screen calls to avoid talking to anyone I don’t feel like talking to, have meltdowns at bills and anything that involves having to go somewhere that involves too much travelling. Everything is so much harder than it used to be and right now I am having real difficulty in controlling my emotions.
I have started to have more frequent panic attacks which are different in how they used to be. I have had more in the shower, literally I cannot breathe and have to open the shower door to get air, now I avoid the shower and use the bath instead despite this being something I know triggers me. I have also experienced the same thing in the car. I literally feel like I cannot breathe and have to have the windows wound down regardless of what the weather is doing. Today, I have experienced this same feeling in the living room and in my bedroom. I am finding this to be really hard to understand. This is a new thing and no idea why this has suddenly started to happen to me.
In more recent days I have also started to feel physically unwell. I have severe pain in my liver, under my ribs and in my back. My legs and shoulders ache a lot too. This combined with how I feel mentally is just making me want to crawl back into my shell and hide away from the world. I feel incredibly pathetic for feeling this way when I know that there are people who feel similarly but get up everyday and go to work. I can’t even cope with a stupid ESA form. I read it and just panic. How can I explain to them that things are constantly changing. One day I would probably cope with having to go to work, but then the next day I will struggle with the smallest of tasks.
I really feel like I am losing my mind. I can’t keep up with all the different things that I think and feel. I am constantly having to take a step back and check over and over again whether what I am thinking or feeling are real or part of my illness. I am over paranoid and anxious right now and fearful about how people see me.
Hubby doesn’t seem to like me much right now. He prefers me with my natural hair colour, he hates that I got my tongue pierced. I have no idea what he really thinks of me.
Recently I talked about my relationship with food and what has been happening. I can see from the way that my clothes now hang on me that I have clearly lost weight, but I also can’t see it at the same time. I still see the huge blob I had become and I hate it. I feel so angry when I look in the mirror, I actually want to stab the person looking back at me. I feel utter disgust and contempt. Not only is my head a complete fucking mess but so is my body. I have stretch marks from when I was pregnant at 18. Scars from burns and cuts and I am fat. FAT FAT FAT..Fat and ugly. I don’t think that my husband has every said that I am attractive or anything and to be honest it shouldn’t really matter, he’s here, but it does.
I feel fucking unloveable and disgusting. I feel useless and lost in the constant ups and downs of whatever is happening inside my head. I argue constantly with myself about all manner of things and now I have a raging war with food. Meal times are really hideous at the moment. I don’t want to eat unless I really have to. I weighed myself almost everyday this week and each time there is a remote increase I feel ill, panicked and disgusted with myself. I punish myself and the thoughts that go round my head are vicious. I know inside that this is not right, that my thinking is wrong, but there is a louder stronger voice saying that people will only like me if I look like I did when I was younger, around 18/19 after I had my eldest. I was slim and toned. Now I am just an unattractive, mental, fucked up, blob of a freak. Why would anyone want me like this? I can hear the words “I don’t find you attractive, physically or mentally. I don’t like who you have become” and “you are fat and ugly and I don’t fancy you any more”.
This all probably reads as one giant whinge session about things, other people write about much more important things which are far more interesting than my crap. So, if you got this far, thank you!