My Mum, Dad and sister are doing a course at the moment called Family Connections which is for family of people with BPD. They learn about BPD and they get skills training and support. Dealing with someone like me who has a mental illness is tough and I admire them for being there for me, providing me with support and going along to get further educated, and get some support for themselves.
My family have seen me at my worst. They’ve had to scrape me up off the floor when I am drunk and covered in blood. They have been called the the ER after I’ve self harmed, tried to commit suicide, and taken an overdose. They have visited me when I’ve been in the psych unit. I have called them in tears telling them I am about to harm myself. I’ve turned up on the doorstep so emotional I can’t speak except to cry. They’ve held me as I’ve rocked, and sometimes been beside me as I’ve attempted to communicate with psychiatrists, nurses and the crisis team. They’ve looked after my daughter when I’ve needed help, cleaned my house, done my lawns and helped me get things back on track when I’ve fallen apart. They come over with dinner every Monday night to help me out.
Families get a raw deal. Mental health professionals often put the burden of care back on to families, without giving them any support or explaining the system to them. Families are sometimes limited in the amount of knowledge they are given due to privacy reasons, and they are expected to care for very unwell and sometimes suicidal people. Some of the things they have seen would probably cause PTSD in healthy people. They often exist under chronic levels of stress when the person they love has a mental illness, and I imagine often feel very helpless as well.
BPD itself is a disorder that causes chronic relationship problems. I can be extremely difficult, illogical, irrational, overly emotional and unstable at times. I know my disorder better than most people (I’ve done lots of research), and I still don’t know or understand where it stops and I begin. On top of that I have dysthymia (chronic depression) which means I am basically depressed to a greater or lesser degree all the time. Trying to communicate with me can be like walking on egg shells at the best of times, and I could explode with all of the best intentions from everyone.
This puts intense strain on the family dynamics. I am an adult, and I try so hard to be a complete and competent one. I am in my mid 30’s, I have a child, I have a professional job. But I also need a lot of help and support sometimes, due to my mental illnesses. I get mad about that. I hate asking for help. I try to be grateful that my family are there and that they are willing to help me and do things for me. But I wish that I didn’t have to put this burden on them.
I’m sure that on their side of things they probably feel equally conflicted. How to provide support when I am prickly and difficult, what they are supposed to do with me when I am very unwell and can be incredibly uncooperative, what level of support is appropriate - when to back off and when to help out. How they can have their own lives and be free of some of the stress.
So I admire them for all that they do for me, and especially for committing to 12 weeks of learning more and receiving some support through the Family Connections program.
A couple of helpful links:
Family Guidelines
Helping someone with BPD
For Loved Ones
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 November 2017
Sunday, 5 November 2017
The last few months
And here I am again writing about how I’m back from my extended break.... I actually wrote a draft post about this about 2 months ago and then never posted it. Things have been....complicated.
It’s hard to write when you are in a down and don’t know how to turn things around. It’s also hard to write when there is a lot that you want to say and you can’t say it for fear of hurting someone’s feelings or making a situation worse. There had been several big things happen in my life that I couldn’t write about and that’s blocked all my other thoughts.
One of those things has been my relationship with my sister and her now husband. I won’t go in to details, but suffice to say there was a breakdown in communication, several arguments with him and things haven’t quite been the same since. I got un-bridesmaided and in-invited from the wedding in Rarotonga....unfortunately I’d already brought tickets at that point. It wasn’t just me, the rest of my family were also tarred with the same brush, and things have been very awkward ever since. We attended the wedding but the relationship between us and my sister/her husband is still very much tentative and none of the issues have actually been addressed. I’m finding that pretty hard as I am normally a ‘hash it out’ type of person, but my sister prefers to brush things under the carpet and pretend they haven’t happened and she’s the one calling the shots here.
One of the big reasons this has triggered me so much is my particular sensitivity to feelings of rejection. Throughout my life I have often done things to upset other people and they have cut me out of their lives, without an explanation as to what I have actually done. Due to my mix of Asperger’s and personality disorder, I genuinely don’t know or understand what has happened to cause this, but I end up terribly hurt and feeling completely rejected. This is a repeating pattern in my life, and the more it repeats the more I am inclined to withdraw from socialising and put up walls to protect myself.
In my family I am known as very independent, but one of the reasons I am so independent is because I feel accute pain if I open up and then am rejected in any way. I find it incredibly difficult to tell other people what is going on in my head or how I feel, and I never ever ask for help. Partly because someone might laugh at me and partly because I need to prove to myself that I don’t need anyone else. If people reject me then who needs them? I can do it myself.
One of the ways this pain manifests itself is obsession with what has happened to cause the rejection. My previous psychologist fired me as a patient more than 2 years ago and I still frequently think and wonder what caused that and what I could have done to prevent it, and what I would say to her if I saw her now. It’s hard to let go because I opened up and told this person my darkest, innermost thoughts and then (for me) out of the blue she said she couldn’t help me anymore and that was it. After over a year of therapy. I ponder over this often. I get out the memories of our last few sessions and see if I can try and make sense of what happened. And I still can’t after all this time. But that doesn’t stop my brain from turning this problem over and over to see what the answer is. Time has dulled the pain slightly, but it still hurts a lot. Every time I think about this I feel a portion of that rejection all over again.
So when my sister, one of the people who is supposed to be there for me, rejected me it hurt an incredible amount. But what hurt the most was my perception that they (mum, dad and my other sister) cared about her much more than me. I’ve been in this position before where I had an argument with both my sisters and they didn’t speak to me for months, one of them even moved to another city in that intervening time and didn’t say goodbye. And no one seemed to miss me or care that much. But all three of them were deeply upset by this situation and pursued resolution with my sister. I felt that this meant they cared for her more than me. Another rejection, by my own family.
This boiled over one night when the four of us were having some conversation about this all and something got said about my behaviour. I know I am often completely erratic, I’m difficult to be around and I fly off the handle a lot (working on that), I know that’s part of my illness but I also know it hurts people and destroys relationships. I completely over reacted, hit my sister several times, punched my Dad, bit him, stomped on his feet. He held me in a head lock and I screamed right in his face. I was screaming and screaming, feeling a complete lack of any control. I just wanted to hurt and be hurt.
Later, I walked off into the night and got in the sea fully clothed (I did take my shoes off). It was the middle of winter and I had jeans and a t-shirt on, no jersey, and I was standing in thigh deep water thinking about drowning myself. A very low point in my life.
This incident scared me. I was completely out of control. I could see the red behind my eyes and all I wanted was to feel physical pain to match the mental and emotional anguish. I’ll never forget the look of terror in my sister’s eyes though as she cowered in the corner after I punched her and pushed her over. And my father physically restraining me.
I’ll continue this in a follow up post shortly.
It’s hard to write when you are in a down and don’t know how to turn things around. It’s also hard to write when there is a lot that you want to say and you can’t say it for fear of hurting someone’s feelings or making a situation worse. There had been several big things happen in my life that I couldn’t write about and that’s blocked all my other thoughts.
One of those things has been my relationship with my sister and her now husband. I won’t go in to details, but suffice to say there was a breakdown in communication, several arguments with him and things haven’t quite been the same since. I got un-bridesmaided and in-invited from the wedding in Rarotonga....unfortunately I’d already brought tickets at that point. It wasn’t just me, the rest of my family were also tarred with the same brush, and things have been very awkward ever since. We attended the wedding but the relationship between us and my sister/her husband is still very much tentative and none of the issues have actually been addressed. I’m finding that pretty hard as I am normally a ‘hash it out’ type of person, but my sister prefers to brush things under the carpet and pretend they haven’t happened and she’s the one calling the shots here.
One of the big reasons this has triggered me so much is my particular sensitivity to feelings of rejection. Throughout my life I have often done things to upset other people and they have cut me out of their lives, without an explanation as to what I have actually done. Due to my mix of Asperger’s and personality disorder, I genuinely don’t know or understand what has happened to cause this, but I end up terribly hurt and feeling completely rejected. This is a repeating pattern in my life, and the more it repeats the more I am inclined to withdraw from socialising and put up walls to protect myself.
In my family I am known as very independent, but one of the reasons I am so independent is because I feel accute pain if I open up and then am rejected in any way. I find it incredibly difficult to tell other people what is going on in my head or how I feel, and I never ever ask for help. Partly because someone might laugh at me and partly because I need to prove to myself that I don’t need anyone else. If people reject me then who needs them? I can do it myself.
One of the ways this pain manifests itself is obsession with what has happened to cause the rejection. My previous psychologist fired me as a patient more than 2 years ago and I still frequently think and wonder what caused that and what I could have done to prevent it, and what I would say to her if I saw her now. It’s hard to let go because I opened up and told this person my darkest, innermost thoughts and then (for me) out of the blue she said she couldn’t help me anymore and that was it. After over a year of therapy. I ponder over this often. I get out the memories of our last few sessions and see if I can try and make sense of what happened. And I still can’t after all this time. But that doesn’t stop my brain from turning this problem over and over to see what the answer is. Time has dulled the pain slightly, but it still hurts a lot. Every time I think about this I feel a portion of that rejection all over again.
So when my sister, one of the people who is supposed to be there for me, rejected me it hurt an incredible amount. But what hurt the most was my perception that they (mum, dad and my other sister) cared about her much more than me. I’ve been in this position before where I had an argument with both my sisters and they didn’t speak to me for months, one of them even moved to another city in that intervening time and didn’t say goodbye. And no one seemed to miss me or care that much. But all three of them were deeply upset by this situation and pursued resolution with my sister. I felt that this meant they cared for her more than me. Another rejection, by my own family.
This boiled over one night when the four of us were having some conversation about this all and something got said about my behaviour. I know I am often completely erratic, I’m difficult to be around and I fly off the handle a lot (working on that), I know that’s part of my illness but I also know it hurts people and destroys relationships. I completely over reacted, hit my sister several times, punched my Dad, bit him, stomped on his feet. He held me in a head lock and I screamed right in his face. I was screaming and screaming, feeling a complete lack of any control. I just wanted to hurt and be hurt.
Later, I walked off into the night and got in the sea fully clothed (I did take my shoes off). It was the middle of winter and I had jeans and a t-shirt on, no jersey, and I was standing in thigh deep water thinking about drowning myself. A very low point in my life.
This incident scared me. I was completely out of control. I could see the red behind my eyes and all I wanted was to feel physical pain to match the mental and emotional anguish. I’ll never forget the look of terror in my sister’s eyes though as she cowered in the corner after I punched her and pushed her over. And my father physically restraining me.
I’ll continue this in a follow up post shortly.
Thursday, 15 June 2017
An update to my post on depression
I know I've already posted tonight but I really wanted to write an update to my depression post last week.
I have been having a really hard time in the last couple of weeks, first with stress and anxiety and now feeling depressed and being unwell with some sort of virus. Work has been hard for various reasons, I've had to take my cat to the vet, we have a problem with the hot water at home, my daughter has a virus causing a full body rash, she's wet the bed every night...the list goes on. Shit happens in life, and it happens to all of us.
When I wrote my last post on depression I didn't really think about who would read it or what your actions would be. All I wanted to do was give some insight into what being depressed looks like. That's its not always the sterotype image of someone clutching their head in their hands and crying. I know I have friends out there who also stuggle, and one of my motivations is to make sure they know they are not alone. That no matter how together someone might look from the outside, we all have our own challenges.
I also find it incredibly hard to ask anyone for anything. One of the things that always gets said when there is general talk in the media or on social media about New Zealand's terrible suicide rate (we are world number 1 for youth suicide - 16 young people per 100,000 die by suicide every year), is that we should make sure people know they can ask for help. Yes, by all means make sure they know there is help available, but making that leap to asking for it is something that I am only just begining to learn how to do, and I'm nearly 20 years older than some of those teens going through this.
I don't know what the answer is, all I know is that I am grateful for the wonderful friends and family I have. Friends like Mrs W, who came over with lunch on Monday bearing a box of food, fruit and eggs so it wouldn't matter if I couldn't go to the supermarket. Or like the people who messaged me and asked how I was, and S who invited me on a bike ride. And my amazing Mum who delivered 3 meals worth of soup, plus scones and french bread for me. My Mum and my sister helped me do dishes and sort/fold/put away washing, my Mum tidied Little G's room and my Dad cooked me dinner. One of Little G's friend's Mums has looked after her for me. I didn't expect the help and support I received but I am incredibly grateful to all of you for your thoughtfulness.
Thank you, thank you, arohanui (much love)
I have been having a really hard time in the last couple of weeks, first with stress and anxiety and now feeling depressed and being unwell with some sort of virus. Work has been hard for various reasons, I've had to take my cat to the vet, we have a problem with the hot water at home, my daughter has a virus causing a full body rash, she's wet the bed every night...the list goes on. Shit happens in life, and it happens to all of us.
When I wrote my last post on depression I didn't really think about who would read it or what your actions would be. All I wanted to do was give some insight into what being depressed looks like. That's its not always the sterotype image of someone clutching their head in their hands and crying. I know I have friends out there who also stuggle, and one of my motivations is to make sure they know they are not alone. That no matter how together someone might look from the outside, we all have our own challenges.
I also find it incredibly hard to ask anyone for anything. One of the things that always gets said when there is general talk in the media or on social media about New Zealand's terrible suicide rate (we are world number 1 for youth suicide - 16 young people per 100,000 die by suicide every year), is that we should make sure people know they can ask for help. Yes, by all means make sure they know there is help available, but making that leap to asking for it is something that I am only just begining to learn how to do, and I'm nearly 20 years older than some of those teens going through this.
I don't know what the answer is, all I know is that I am grateful for the wonderful friends and family I have. Friends like Mrs W, who came over with lunch on Monday bearing a box of food, fruit and eggs so it wouldn't matter if I couldn't go to the supermarket. Or like the people who messaged me and asked how I was, and S who invited me on a bike ride. And my amazing Mum who delivered 3 meals worth of soup, plus scones and french bread for me. My Mum and my sister helped me do dishes and sort/fold/put away washing, my Mum tidied Little G's room and my Dad cooked me dinner. One of Little G's friend's Mums has looked after her for me. I didn't expect the help and support I received but I am incredibly grateful to all of you for your thoughtfulness.
Thank you, thank you, arohanui (much love)
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