Happy Home

1) What do you do when your friends start abandoning you? How do you get over your fears of someone abandoning you? I feel like I’ve ‘pushed’ them as far as they can go, and several are now at the point of “I don’t know what to do with her/can’t handle this/don’t want to or don’t know how to help her. I’m terrified that my best friend is fed up with me. I love this kid (code named, Marine Asshole/Voldemort). When I was in the hospital, I remember crying and telling him I didn’t know what I did to deserve him, that one day he’d decide ‘this girl’s too fucked up’ and leave. He told me that was never going to happen. I believe him. Yet at the same time, I’m still scared.

2) Anyone else cry at the drop of a hat? How do you stop yourself from crying and turning the night/day/hours when you should be being productive, into Pity Party For One? I had a 2 hour lecture with Ian last thursday. He basically told me to stop crying, don’t feel sorry for myself, and get busy doing what I need to do. I really think I took that to heart. Perhaps more so than he intended. I tear up thinking of my Marine dying, listening to certain songs, thinking too long on Ian sex flashbacks, thinking about Bicycle, if one of my managers corrects me at work. I “make crying a freaking water sport.” Now I might leak a bit, but I hold it in because basically. Stop being a fucking pussy and crying. It doesn’t do SHIT.

3) Medication isn’t an option for me. I refuse. I will take B vitamins (heard those help), but taking antidepressants disqualifies you from enlisting for a year after you stop taking them. So. Other than meds, what helps you cope? Things like meditation, prayer, journaling…

4) Does anyone else dread feeling happy or optimistic? It’s frightening how fast I can cycle through moods, sometimes. Then I’ll get the determined, I can do anything, I’m ecstatic, my life is coming together mood…and it’ll turn out to be ‘fake’ and I’ll crash right back down. Couple of hours ago I was staring at my computer in shock and crying/screaming on the inside. I’m fine now. I’m determined to be optimistic…and I know this might not make sense, but that scares the shit out of me! That feeling ain’t gonna stick around for people like me/us! I now have this battle of quite literal voices in my head, the optimistic/pessimistic Ashey.

I think that’s all for now. I’m going to go home now. Perhaps.

18 September 2009 • borderline personality disorder questions batshit crazy coping healing

So, I haven’t blogged in a bit about anything meaningful because I’ve been busy doing shit, as well as angsting. I work 6 am-2pm every day but Thursday, when I work 6am-9am and have a volunteer shift at the co-op from 11am-3pm. I talked to my parents a few nights ago. For 40 minutes.

Did I hold this conversation in my apartment, indoors? No. I walked to the building on campus where I had my nervous breakdown in November, where I had sex with Ian, where I had my huge argument with Ian, where I cried with 3 of my friends, where I spent awhile smoking outside with Devyn in November, where I called Jared and sat on the front stairs talking to him for an unsatisfying bit. I sat outside. It was raining. By the end of the phone call, I was trying DAMN hard not to cry—I view that as a sign of weakness now—but leaking anyway. Dripping wet. Shaking with anger and with the effort of holding tears in.

And during our fun lil’ convo, mom and i had the following exchange:

Mom: “Well, blah blah, you do need to recognize that you have a disorder.”

Self: “Uh, I was diagnosed with major depression in the hospital. That just means I’m sad.”

Mom: “No, Sherri [Rawsthorn, she’s in Lawrenceville GA and if it was possible to ‘pimp’ a shrink I would] only didn’t diagnose you with BPD because you weren’t 18 yet.” [quit therapy about a week before turning 18. dumb idea.]

Reactions to this were:

1) Why the hell didn’t they see fit to inform me of this?

2) I can now join the club with Susanna Kaysen. No, seriously, this wasn’t even a sarcastic thought.

3) I don’t like saying, “I have a disorder.” I refuse to be one of those whiny bitches (coughcoughelizabethwurtzel) who blames everything on her ‘illness.’ Bullshit. BPD isn’t an illness. Or a disease. It’s just a huge damn problem.

That thing that calls itself my mother suggested reading up on it, so I did/am. I thought I knew a good bit about psychology, but hell. Textbook bipolar.

Feeling unusually “high,” sleeping very little yet feeling energetic, racing thoughts, difficulty concentrating, HUGE yes on the acting impulsively/engaging in reckless behavior, unpredictable mood swings, BIG problems with fear of abandonment, uncontrollable crying.

So, we have a problem and a few questions. Which I will continue in my next post as I don’t want to be obnoxious and post something really long.

18 September 2009 • batshit crazy deer instability borderline personality disorder therapy parents