When I started writing this blog I was in a very dark and painful place. I was often stoned and/or inebriated. The next day, more often than not, I would find that the lack of recollection meant I had to re-read all that I had written. Some days I was quite dismayed at what I had shared. I’m such a private person and finding anything to do with my childhood, teens and twenties so hard. But then there were things that I shared which would be explicit and I did really wonder where this blog was headed.
My reason for setting this up remains fully intact and I feel in essence it has delivered what I hoped it would. Sure, I’ve shared stuff I never intended too, but I guess that whenever and wherever it was, being able to share was an important thing for me to do. Its importance derived from my desperate need to talk.
Over the course of months that I have been writing, it is fair to say there has been a mix of sad, low and depressing posts and a small handful of more focused and positive posts.
Each post is always directly about my experience. I’ve never said anything which would indicate deeper knowledge or understanding. I’ve actually just sounded like a very consistent broken record.
Sometimes my thoughts come out very muddled and I will re-read what I have dared to write only to hang my head in sorrow or shame. I have found at times that what I’ve written is not what I had meant to write and I’ve ended up with more nonsense than I started off with.
If you follow this blog on a regular basis you will be aware that I am not content with my diagnosis, treatment plan or indeed and especially my psychiatrist.
Mental health is a minefield. There are those illnesses which are easy to treat and then there are those which just need to be blown out of the water as they do so little good to the person with the diagnosis.
Borderline personality disorder is the obvious one to talk about as I have it.
One of the hardest things I’m dealing with right now is the feeling my meds are not working which is effecting my depression levels, my anxiety and paranoid.
In an attempt to keep in control and to comply with the mht, I have practiced the dbt skills. I have reached out when I have not been safe. I have continued to take my meds even though they don’t help. I have tried in vain to get a psych appointment. I have literally done everything that I can do. Sometimes it can work well, but more recently and looking back, I can see times when it’s been all wrong. Instead of calming and trying to work through an issue, it has just made it a thousand times worse. Not only have I become unstable but my general personality seems to make a change too and suddenly this shy, private person becomes loud, participates in potentially risky behaviour. Sexually I become like another person. What turns me on, what and who I desire. The games and the boundaries that can be pushed. Torment, aggression, submission, violence, the green light is on.
There’s this burning need to fill my body with toxic substances. Not marajuana because it makes me I’ll, but poppers for mind blowing sex, coccaine, speed, ecstacy. I crave them. I want to live right on the edge. Push the limits as hard, fast and far as I possibly can.
I know that many who know about bpd would say that this is a symptom of the illness and that if i use my dbt skills I can keep it under control.
As the weeks pass into months and I continue to write and look into myself I am more and more convinced that I have symptoms of other mental illness.
From all that I have read, researched and all those I have met who suffer with it, one thing is clear. Each of us has been damaged a long the way by something beyond our control. This in turn has had an impact on how we see people and view the world. How relationships can be so incredibly hard to build and maintain. Feeling lost inside with no real identity or focus in life is often because it’s been stripped away by negativity. Aggression and mistrust are built into us because that’s how we have had to be in order to survive. Bpd is at many points quite inexplicable because there are so many pieces that have the potential to be put together, it’s easy to get lost and wrapped up in things which aren’t quite the issue you initially believed it to be.
Depression and anxiety seem to marry into bpd quite beautifully, but so does addiction, psychosis, paranoia, eating disorders and so on. For me I know that most of my bpd symptoms can be easily said to be that of complex post traumatic stress disorder.
But there is also this other part of me where these issues are not such a problem. So, I’m left feeling stranded in the desert, no water, no rope, no tools or weapons. Just me and a few pills. The deep depression is meant to be long gone and my paranoia and anxiety should be under control too.
Today has been such a tough day. The depression has latched on really tight and it’s vice like grip makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Bpd can be recognised by specific thoughts surrounding my ability to be so majorly intense with my emotions. This depression doesn’t feel like that. It doesn’t feel anything. I just feel depressed. I’ve been in huge amounts of pain before because of the past and my nights are filled with shadows and nightmares. This is so different. Grrr, now I know I’m not making any sense at all.
I know this is just another post which will undoubtedly sound like a broken record. I’m somewhat stoned….no actually I am fucked! No big surprise there given how depressed I’ve been feeling and the struggle I’ve had this week.
One day when I am well, if i get well, I can imagine reading through these, cringing and wondering what the fuck I was thinking. Well, Lib, right now you’re thinking that you should shut up and go to bed. Shit to do tomorrow whether yoir head wants to or not.
On that inspiring (not) note I am going to attempt to sleep.