So, I haven't posted for about 6 months now. There's been a lot going on, and one of the things I have had to consider is how much I should be sharing with other people and why I am sharing it. Some of the issues I have also affect other people and it's hard to know how open to be, but also difficult sometimes to write about things when you have to leave out the bits that might involve other people.
December was a really difficult month. I traditionally don't cope well around Christmas time anyway, and 2017 had some family and financial pressure, plus my medication had been decreased which I did not react well to.
My new (at the time) psychiatrist had said that he was of the opinion that I was heavily over-medicated and he wanted to decrease my Venlafaxine dose. I was all for trying this as my ultimate aim is to come off meds altogether as I don't believe they are helpful long term for people like me with BPD. I'd already started decreasing my dose over the previous year with the help of my last psychiatrist, going from 375mg down to 225mg over about a year or so. With my new plan I was to drop down to basically nothing over about 3 or 4 months.
I'd had terrible withdrawal symptoms with all my previous decreases but managed to get through them. Unfortunately, this time the plan called for dropping by one dose (37.5mg) and then after a few weeks, dropping by another dose, and so on, and my body couldn't cope by the second decrease. I went into withdrawal which for me always starts with feeling like I am getting some kind of virus. This was followed by brain shocks, headaches, nausea, and dizziness. This was on top of worse mood swings than normal and higher levels of suicidal ideation. I tend to have rages where I know I am being completely irrational but I can't seem to calm down after being triggered.
My brain often goes AWOL when my meds have been changed, and I was also having trouble stringing a coherent thought together and holding a conversation. Not helpful when you are working and trying to communicate with clients.
After discussing my issues with the team at community mental health (CMH) my dose was temporarily increased for a few weeks till I re-stabilized, then it was time to try dropping it again. I was pretty worried by this point, given my history, but agreed to try and see what happened. It was terrible timing as the first term of the school year was starting, but there's never a good time to be feeling rubbish so I just had to hope I'd be ok.
A few days in and I was feeling ok, then the onset of the virus type symptoms. By day 5 I couldn't get out of bed and all I wanted was to die. I raged at my daughter's new teacher (terrible first impression) and generally acted like a bear with a sore head, lashing out at anyone who got in my way.
I got pretty desperate and ended up calling my case manager at CMH and asking for a med increase again. Not what I wanted but I just didn't have the strength to deal with all the withdrawal symptoms.
So that was December - February.
One of the things that struck me over this time is that people generally have a perception that my mental illness is a 'fixable' thing. Over Christmas time I bumped into a number of people I haven't seen for a while, and as you do, you ask each other how you are. Now I never know how to respond to that question at the best of times, because does the person genuinely want to know or is the 'I'm fine' response expected? I usually opt for 'getting there slowly', or 'not great' as they seem slightly more honest than 'I'm fine'. And the comments I get are almost always along the lines of 'But you're better now though aren't you?', 'I thought you'd recovered from your depression, you're back at work', 'you look/sound happy'.
I find this incredibly frustrating though I know it's always meant well. BPD is not something you recover from, and yes I was severely depressed and I have recovered from a major depressive episode but I am still unwell. BPD is a serious mental illness that has a significant risk of death by suicide. 70% of people with BPD will have at least one suicide attempt and about 10% of people with BPD die by suicide (50 times the risk of the general population). I often look well and/or happy because I can be happy. BPD is characterized by emotional instability and pervasive instability in mood, affecting all aspects of my life. My life is a never ending rollercoaster of emotion, where I can be happy one minute and suicidal the next.
I don't blame anyone for not knowing or understanding my condition, I just find it a little frustrating that most of the efforts in awareness campaigns tend to be around depression and anxiety.
And I guess that brings me back to my reason for sharing some of the things I do. I want people to know what living with BPD is like. I don't think having it makes me a bad person, but I am very sensitive, emotional and impulsive which can lead to chaos in my life and the lives of those around me. More on that another day.
Ka Kite Ano
Saturday, 21 April 2018
Thursday, 23 November 2017
Suicidal ideation and self harm urges
Warning - this post could be triggering for some people. Helpline numbers are posted at the bottom of the page if you need to talk to someone.
I've really struggled today. Driving home today I had very strong urges to drink (alcohol) and cut myself. When I get like that, that is all I can think about. Those thoughts fill up my brain and I obsess about it. Today I kept telling myself 'this is not how I deal with problems and feelings now' and tried to understand why my brain has presented me with these urges.
A few weeks ago I was dealing with almost constant suicidal ideation. It was painful, indescribably so. How can you tell your support people that almost every waking minute of the day you think about killing yourself? That your head is full of images of you electrocuting yourself in the bath, falling and cracking your head open on concrete, gassing yourself in your car, hanging from the garage rafters, slicing your wrists open, driving your car into a concrete barrier/power pole/traffic, drowning in the sea.... That everywhere you look there is more ways to die. And that you fear that, in a moment of weakness when you are worn out from all the resisting, you will give in to an impulse and do something irreversible. When you spend time with loved ones you feel constant guilt about the thoughts you have about dieing.
So, I'd been having these thoughts for quite some time, two or three weeks I think, when I began to feel quite desperate. It was really starting to worry me that I might act on an impulse and do something I would regret. I brought it up with my psychologist, which is a lot harder than you might think. Trying to get those words out that I was feeling this way and having those thoughts, the feelings were overwhelming my ability to speak or be coherent in any way. Which is another reason it is so hard to talk to my support people and family about things. When I am unwell I am often so full of thoughts and emotions that I struggle to put together words in a way that makes sense to others.
One other thing that I want to make clear - having these thoughts does not mean rational me wants to die. Rational/wise me knows that I have lots to live for, there are things I enjoy and people I love, and that I just need to hang on for a bit until things get better again. Because they do get better. Unfortunately I do have periods of time where I struggle with suicidal ideation. It's been an ongoing issue for me since my teens. Sometimes it's intense and lasts a day or two, sometimes it's nagging thoughts that are around for months on end. This time the length and strength of what was going on for me was wearing me out.
My psychologist was a massive help. He described my brain as trying to protect me. I have a problem, which is that I was having a depressive episode. This was making me miserable. My brain sees the problem - misery - and provides the solution - death - for me. But what it doesn't understand is that by giving me death as a solution it promotes further misery, as another part of me desperately doesn't want to die. So I have the two sides of me - depression/misery/suicidality, and the love for my family and friends/hope for the future - locked in conflict with each other. The guilt and shame I feel at having these thoughts effectively strengthen them. My negative emotions start to escalate leading to further misery, which causes my brain to further bring forward the 'solution' of death/suicide.
By thinking of my brain as this benevolent force trying to using black and white thinking (ie here's the problem, there's the solution) to help me, I could feel compassion towards myself and it completely changed my perspective on my suicidal thoughts and urges. Now when I get those thoughts I can understand it is my brain just providing me with what it thinks is a good solution to my depression. My brain is trying to help me end my suffering in the most immediate way. And now I have to teach it that life is worth living, even if sometimes it is messy and uncomfortable and it hurts.
In the same way I have worked with my psychologist on my binge drinking and self harming urges. These urges often pop up when I am feeling other negative emotions because over the years my brain has learnt that negative feelings and emotions are intolerable. So it provides self harming behavioural urges as a coping mechanism so I don't have to feel horrible things I don't want to feel. Pretty clever when you think about it. My brain has taught itself that it doesn't like anything negative and that it should get rid of those feelings, emotions and experiences at all costs. Even if that involves harming myself or killing myself.
So today when I was having a rough time with wanting to binge drink and cut, I could tell myself that I must be feeling something I didn't want to feel and that there are healthier ways to deal with my feelings. I'm tuned in to my feelings in that I feel everything x100 - joy, sadness, anger, etc. I know what I'm feeling as I'm usually feeling it incredibly intensely. But I often don't know why, what was it that caused me to feel that way. I find that confusing and alarming in itself, to be confronted by these big feelings and have no idea why.
Today's feelings were brought to you by..... I don't know. Probably a combination of things. I'm unsettled at the moment as I have been thinking about starting a business. Or studying art. Or tech writing. Or anything else. Or.... And that's the problem. One minute I have an idea and am completely taken with it, researching the hell out of it and obsessed, unable to think of anything else. And the next minute I'm off on another tangent thinking of something else. A million thoughts are going through my head, and while I'm mentally walking through what it would be like to study again, several other concurrent lines of thought are going on - what business would I set up, how much would it cost to fund, could I get a student loan for study, should I give art lessons, how about buying a tripod and making you tube videos.....
Another thing that's bothering me is something that was said to me about Little G. I agreed for us to take part in a research project being done by a service that supports kids who have parents with mental health and addiction issues. Which is fine, I did my interview, she did hers, all went well. But the psychologist who interviewed Little G made some remarks about how she presents and what her view is on Little G's diagnosis. And I don't quite know what to do with the information she presented me with. It hasn't come from a formal assessment so its an opinion, but it's one that's thrown me into a tail spin as basically it equates to the ASD diagnosis may not be right and there is actually something else going on with her. And that something else should be looked in to.
I'm not sleeping at the moment which is never a good sign. The last week or so, I haven't turned out the light before midnight, and most nights not before 2am. I get up at 7am so it could be worse, but I should really be in bed (light out) by 10.30pm as sleep is such an important part of my self care regime. Problem is that I can't bring myself to follow my self care regime at the moment.....
I'm also bored at work. Which is not good for me either. I need to be mentally occupied and challenged otherwise all the other thinking takes over (effectively what's happened) and my brain goes a million miles an hour in a whole lot of different directions. I have a lot of trouble concentrating when that happens, and I also tend to over think and obsess on things.
So there's quite a bit swirling around in my brain and I guess maybe the self harm urges are trying to tell me that I am overwhelmed. That I need to try and get some sleep, eat some proper food (not just cereal) and try and stop thinking. Use my meditation and mindfulness techniques to get out of my brain and into my life (got that line from my psychologist lol). The trouble is finding the motivation to do those things when they are the absolute last thing I want to do. I have to just keep telling myself I want to be better so I can be a good Mum, family member and friend. And lead a life worth living.
Suicide - read this first
I've really struggled today. Driving home today I had very strong urges to drink (alcohol) and cut myself. When I get like that, that is all I can think about. Those thoughts fill up my brain and I obsess about it. Today I kept telling myself 'this is not how I deal with problems and feelings now' and tried to understand why my brain has presented me with these urges.
A few weeks ago I was dealing with almost constant suicidal ideation. It was painful, indescribably so. How can you tell your support people that almost every waking minute of the day you think about killing yourself? That your head is full of images of you electrocuting yourself in the bath, falling and cracking your head open on concrete, gassing yourself in your car, hanging from the garage rafters, slicing your wrists open, driving your car into a concrete barrier/power pole/traffic, drowning in the sea.... That everywhere you look there is more ways to die. And that you fear that, in a moment of weakness when you are worn out from all the resisting, you will give in to an impulse and do something irreversible. When you spend time with loved ones you feel constant guilt about the thoughts you have about dieing.
So, I'd been having these thoughts for quite some time, two or three weeks I think, when I began to feel quite desperate. It was really starting to worry me that I might act on an impulse and do something I would regret. I brought it up with my psychologist, which is a lot harder than you might think. Trying to get those words out that I was feeling this way and having those thoughts, the feelings were overwhelming my ability to speak or be coherent in any way. Which is another reason it is so hard to talk to my support people and family about things. When I am unwell I am often so full of thoughts and emotions that I struggle to put together words in a way that makes sense to others.
One other thing that I want to make clear - having these thoughts does not mean rational me wants to die. Rational/wise me knows that I have lots to live for, there are things I enjoy and people I love, and that I just need to hang on for a bit until things get better again. Because they do get better. Unfortunately I do have periods of time where I struggle with suicidal ideation. It's been an ongoing issue for me since my teens. Sometimes it's intense and lasts a day or two, sometimes it's nagging thoughts that are around for months on end. This time the length and strength of what was going on for me was wearing me out.
My psychologist was a massive help. He described my brain as trying to protect me. I have a problem, which is that I was having a depressive episode. This was making me miserable. My brain sees the problem - misery - and provides the solution - death - for me. But what it doesn't understand is that by giving me death as a solution it promotes further misery, as another part of me desperately doesn't want to die. So I have the two sides of me - depression/misery/suicidality, and the love for my family and friends/hope for the future - locked in conflict with each other. The guilt and shame I feel at having these thoughts effectively strengthen them. My negative emotions start to escalate leading to further misery, which causes my brain to further bring forward the 'solution' of death/suicide.
By thinking of my brain as this benevolent force trying to using black and white thinking (ie here's the problem, there's the solution) to help me, I could feel compassion towards myself and it completely changed my perspective on my suicidal thoughts and urges. Now when I get those thoughts I can understand it is my brain just providing me with what it thinks is a good solution to my depression. My brain is trying to help me end my suffering in the most immediate way. And now I have to teach it that life is worth living, even if sometimes it is messy and uncomfortable and it hurts.
In the same way I have worked with my psychologist on my binge drinking and self harming urges. These urges often pop up when I am feeling other negative emotions because over the years my brain has learnt that negative feelings and emotions are intolerable. So it provides self harming behavioural urges as a coping mechanism so I don't have to feel horrible things I don't want to feel. Pretty clever when you think about it. My brain has taught itself that it doesn't like anything negative and that it should get rid of those feelings, emotions and experiences at all costs. Even if that involves harming myself or killing myself.
So today when I was having a rough time with wanting to binge drink and cut, I could tell myself that I must be feeling something I didn't want to feel and that there are healthier ways to deal with my feelings. I'm tuned in to my feelings in that I feel everything x100 - joy, sadness, anger, etc. I know what I'm feeling as I'm usually feeling it incredibly intensely. But I often don't know why, what was it that caused me to feel that way. I find that confusing and alarming in itself, to be confronted by these big feelings and have no idea why.
Today's feelings were brought to you by..... I don't know. Probably a combination of things. I'm unsettled at the moment as I have been thinking about starting a business. Or studying art. Or tech writing. Or anything else. Or.... And that's the problem. One minute I have an idea and am completely taken with it, researching the hell out of it and obsessed, unable to think of anything else. And the next minute I'm off on another tangent thinking of something else. A million thoughts are going through my head, and while I'm mentally walking through what it would be like to study again, several other concurrent lines of thought are going on - what business would I set up, how much would it cost to fund, could I get a student loan for study, should I give art lessons, how about buying a tripod and making you tube videos.....
Another thing that's bothering me is something that was said to me about Little G. I agreed for us to take part in a research project being done by a service that supports kids who have parents with mental health and addiction issues. Which is fine, I did my interview, she did hers, all went well. But the psychologist who interviewed Little G made some remarks about how she presents and what her view is on Little G's diagnosis. And I don't quite know what to do with the information she presented me with. It hasn't come from a formal assessment so its an opinion, but it's one that's thrown me into a tail spin as basically it equates to the ASD diagnosis may not be right and there is actually something else going on with her. And that something else should be looked in to.
I'm not sleeping at the moment which is never a good sign. The last week or so, I haven't turned out the light before midnight, and most nights not before 2am. I get up at 7am so it could be worse, but I should really be in bed (light out) by 10.30pm as sleep is such an important part of my self care regime. Problem is that I can't bring myself to follow my self care regime at the moment.....
I'm also bored at work. Which is not good for me either. I need to be mentally occupied and challenged otherwise all the other thinking takes over (effectively what's happened) and my brain goes a million miles an hour in a whole lot of different directions. I have a lot of trouble concentrating when that happens, and I also tend to over think and obsess on things.
So there's quite a bit swirling around in my brain and I guess maybe the self harm urges are trying to tell me that I am overwhelmed. That I need to try and get some sleep, eat some proper food (not just cereal) and try and stop thinking. Use my meditation and mindfulness techniques to get out of my brain and into my life (got that line from my psychologist lol). The trouble is finding the motivation to do those things when they are the absolute last thing I want to do. I have to just keep telling myself I want to be better so I can be a good Mum, family member and friend. And lead a life worth living.
Suicide - read this first
If you need to talk to someone:
Free call or text 1737 any time for support from a trained counsellor.
Sunday, 12 November 2017
Family and BPD
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
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
Sunday, 5 November 2017
The last few months part 4
Welcome to part 4...
Trigger warning........there’s quite a bit of cutting at the end of this. Please be safe and don’t read if this could trigger you in any way.
So back to August. I’ve got all this turmoil going on in my life. I’ve had a complete meltdown, discovered I hate myself, am slowly decreasing my dosage of all my drugs, and I’m still pretty bloody miserable.
Work stuff happens. So much work stuff. Stressful things like clients getting mad at me for things that aren’t my fault. Work piles up and I can’t get through it and don’t know what to do about it. I can’t seem to get anything finished and every day someone emails or calls to ask where another piece of work is that I haven’t finished.
Meanwhile, my daughter is having some issues of her own. She’s often very sensitive to my moods and for whatever reason she’s having some emotional issues of her own at the same time. She’s crying a lot, very clingy, wetting the bed constantly (not wholly unusual - she’s not nighttime toilet trained even though she’s 8 but she’s wetting through her pull-up) which is causing me a lot of washing, and she’s basically refusing to do anything she’s told. I know it’s a relationship/connection problem - she’s reacting to my mental unwellness But I can’t seem to get back on track to do anything about it.
Self harm is still calling to me all the time. Suicidal thoughts are constantly with me. I get in the car and think about what it would be like to gas myself in the garage. I drive down the road and notice stuff I could run my car into. I drive by the sea (which is everywhere as my city is a series of peninsulas) and think about drowning. I’m constantly thinking about cutting, drugs, electrocuting myself. It’s tiring, all these thoughts of self harm and death.
Alcohol is my nemesis at this point. My body physically craves a drink, but having one lowers my defences and is a slippery slope to doing something I’m trying so hard not to do. But, after achieving something at work I feel like I could do with a drink to celebrate. I call in to the liquor store on the way home on a Friday night and buy some vodka and e-cigarettes.
I always try to take the appropriate positive actions. This time I read books, had a bath, got someone to take my daughter so I could have some alone time. I tried to go to bed early and get more sleep, and listened to music I enjoy.
On Sunday afternoon my thoughts were all over the place. I would feel momentarily calm and then get worked up and agitated about something. At the time I wrote “I don’t want to be me anymore. All the stress and the constant struggle. I’m trying to do the right thing but it feels like no matter how hard I try I always fall short”.
One beer turned into two. One temazepan became two. I did some cleaning. Didn’t feel tired in the slightest so smoked, drank some vodka and had another temazepan. I was getting manic, cleaning the house and dancing around. This was the opposite of the sleep I was craving, so I took more temazepan and drank more vodka.
That’s when the blades came out. Just so I could get some relief. A bit of cutting, some more vodka and another temazepan or two for the hell of it.
Things get a bit crazy. I dance in the kitchen and the blood running down my arms goes everywhere. I for some reason think this is funny. More cutting, dancing, drinking and taking of drugs ensues. I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t care anymore. I feel like I can see me from the outside and the absurdity of what is happening but I’m powerless to stop and I don’t want to anyway.
I start drinking vodka straight from the bottle and slashing myself randomly with the blade. Arms, legs and stomach. Take handfuls of drugs with the vodka. I am still trying to clean up the blood but I keep falling and hitting my head on the cupboards. I suddenly realise I have probably taken too many tamazepan and have a bit of a panic. I won’t be able to wake up for work tomorrow. That’s how screwed my mind is. I don’t want to live, and in fact am deliberately harming myself because I can’t cope, and then the responsible part of my brain is worried I won’t wake up for work. Never mind that if I was dead I wouldn’t make it in...
I rang the crisis team. I didn’t want to but I am started to get weirded out. My thoughts and my body aren’t connected anymore. The ambulance come and take me to hospital. For a while I refuse to let them ring anyone but when I start vomiting I want my Mum. She comes and sits with me. A nurses glue up the worst of the cuts while we wait for the crisis team. About 3 hours later they finally arrive. “There’s no beds so you’ll have to go home”. I feel weird about this. I don’t want to leave the safety of the hospital. Home is where people are, and the means to hurt myself. Mum takes me back to their place, I have the day off work and then back to work on Tuesday. No one from the hospital or mental health calls to see if I’m ok. I don’t know what to do. I still want to die. I feel guilty about what I did but not enough to regret it. Life goes on. Nothing’s changed.
Trigger warning........there’s quite a bit of cutting at the end of this. Please be safe and don’t read if this could trigger you in any way.
So back to August. I’ve got all this turmoil going on in my life. I’ve had a complete meltdown, discovered I hate myself, am slowly decreasing my dosage of all my drugs, and I’m still pretty bloody miserable.
Work stuff happens. So much work stuff. Stressful things like clients getting mad at me for things that aren’t my fault. Work piles up and I can’t get through it and don’t know what to do about it. I can’t seem to get anything finished and every day someone emails or calls to ask where another piece of work is that I haven’t finished.
Meanwhile, my daughter is having some issues of her own. She’s often very sensitive to my moods and for whatever reason she’s having some emotional issues of her own at the same time. She’s crying a lot, very clingy, wetting the bed constantly (not wholly unusual - she’s not nighttime toilet trained even though she’s 8 but she’s wetting through her pull-up) which is causing me a lot of washing, and she’s basically refusing to do anything she’s told. I know it’s a relationship/connection problem - she’s reacting to my mental unwellness But I can’t seem to get back on track to do anything about it.
Self harm is still calling to me all the time. Suicidal thoughts are constantly with me. I get in the car and think about what it would be like to gas myself in the garage. I drive down the road and notice stuff I could run my car into. I drive by the sea (which is everywhere as my city is a series of peninsulas) and think about drowning. I’m constantly thinking about cutting, drugs, electrocuting myself. It’s tiring, all these thoughts of self harm and death.
Alcohol is my nemesis at this point. My body physically craves a drink, but having one lowers my defences and is a slippery slope to doing something I’m trying so hard not to do. But, after achieving something at work I feel like I could do with a drink to celebrate. I call in to the liquor store on the way home on a Friday night and buy some vodka and e-cigarettes.
I always try to take the appropriate positive actions. This time I read books, had a bath, got someone to take my daughter so I could have some alone time. I tried to go to bed early and get more sleep, and listened to music I enjoy.
On Sunday afternoon my thoughts were all over the place. I would feel momentarily calm and then get worked up and agitated about something. At the time I wrote “I don’t want to be me anymore. All the stress and the constant struggle. I’m trying to do the right thing but it feels like no matter how hard I try I always fall short”.
One beer turned into two. One temazepan became two. I did some cleaning. Didn’t feel tired in the slightest so smoked, drank some vodka and had another temazepan. I was getting manic, cleaning the house and dancing around. This was the opposite of the sleep I was craving, so I took more temazepan and drank more vodka.
That’s when the blades came out. Just so I could get some relief. A bit of cutting, some more vodka and another temazepan or two for the hell of it.
Things get a bit crazy. I dance in the kitchen and the blood running down my arms goes everywhere. I for some reason think this is funny. More cutting, dancing, drinking and taking of drugs ensues. I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t care anymore. I feel like I can see me from the outside and the absurdity of what is happening but I’m powerless to stop and I don’t want to anyway.
I start drinking vodka straight from the bottle and slashing myself randomly with the blade. Arms, legs and stomach. Take handfuls of drugs with the vodka. I am still trying to clean up the blood but I keep falling and hitting my head on the cupboards. I suddenly realise I have probably taken too many tamazepan and have a bit of a panic. I won’t be able to wake up for work tomorrow. That’s how screwed my mind is. I don’t want to live, and in fact am deliberately harming myself because I can’t cope, and then the responsible part of my brain is worried I won’t wake up for work. Never mind that if I was dead I wouldn’t make it in...
I rang the crisis team. I didn’t want to but I am started to get weirded out. My thoughts and my body aren’t connected anymore. The ambulance come and take me to hospital. For a while I refuse to let them ring anyone but when I start vomiting I want my Mum. She comes and sits with me. A nurses glue up the worst of the cuts while we wait for the crisis team. About 3 hours later they finally arrive. “There’s no beds so you’ll have to go home”. I feel weird about this. I don’t want to leave the safety of the hospital. Home is where people are, and the means to hurt myself. Mum takes me back to their place, I have the day off work and then back to work on Tuesday. No one from the hospital or mental health calls to see if I’m ok. I don’t know what to do. I still want to die. I feel guilty about what I did but not enough to regret it. Life goes on. Nothing’s changed.
The last few months part 3
So here’s part 3
After the major meltdown I had where I hit people and threw myself into the sea, I was still struggling massively with all these feelings. I worked through some of this stuff with my psychologist and tried to start identifying where it was all coming from and why I’d had such a major reaction.
I knew I did not have a good opinion of myself and that made me very dependent on feedback from other people. He helped me see that I felt that I was a horrible person (my core or true self) and I was unconsciously trying to cover this up all the time. I would try and try and then fail and beat myself up for not being good enough. I was looking for external validation, and when I was rejected it felt like my whole world was collapsing because that was reinforcing my core belief that I was a horrible person who didn’t deserve any better.
I don’t like myself much. I often feel like I am playing a part. Like the facade that I present to everyone is a cardboard cut out and I’m just hiding behind it, hoping no one will notice there’s no substance to the part I am playing.
This also contributes to my issues with identity. If you don’t trust yourself or your own opinions then how do you figure out who you are. I feel like I will put on a personality and try it out, adopting the clothes, music, mannerisms etc and then let it go. Like maybe this is who I am, oh no, maybe I’m like this person over here...
But here’s the problem. Knowing this stuff doesn’t make it any easier to live with. And in some ways it only makes things harder because I’m aware of how much work I still have to do. Just because I know I hate myself doesn’t mean I know what to do about it.
As time goes by and my experiences of being rejected get repeated, I build fences around my emotions to protect myself. The more times I’m smacked in the face by how much I hate myself, the more my subconscious does to not have to experience that again. I don’t get close to people. I don’t let people help me. And I certainly do not depend on anyone for anything. I don’t deserve anything from anyone, and other people have only let me down in the past and caused me pain. Better to be by myself.
Yes, I can see what a sad situation this is when I write it down, but it does make logical sense and it certainly makes a lot of sense to my subconscious.
And this is where self harm rears it’s ugly head again. There’s several ways it helps in this situation. I don’t want to feel painful emotions so I do something to cause myself pain. I hate myself, so I punish myself by self harming. And I feel pain emotionally and want to see it physically manifested, and I draw pleasure out of turning emotional pain into physical wounds.
Yes, I realise how unwell this makes me sound. But the drive to self harm is really really strong and this is why. It’s like an addiction. Feel a bad feeling = self harm and it will go away. Hate yourself = punish yourself by cutting and feel a bit better. Cut yourself = get satisfaction from having physical scars instead of pain inside your head.
I’m going to have to write part 4 I think. Still got more to say...
After the major meltdown I had where I hit people and threw myself into the sea, I was still struggling massively with all these feelings. I worked through some of this stuff with my psychologist and tried to start identifying where it was all coming from and why I’d had such a major reaction.
I knew I did not have a good opinion of myself and that made me very dependent on feedback from other people. He helped me see that I felt that I was a horrible person (my core or true self) and I was unconsciously trying to cover this up all the time. I would try and try and then fail and beat myself up for not being good enough. I was looking for external validation, and when I was rejected it felt like my whole world was collapsing because that was reinforcing my core belief that I was a horrible person who didn’t deserve any better.
I don’t like myself much. I often feel like I am playing a part. Like the facade that I present to everyone is a cardboard cut out and I’m just hiding behind it, hoping no one will notice there’s no substance to the part I am playing.
This also contributes to my issues with identity. If you don’t trust yourself or your own opinions then how do you figure out who you are. I feel like I will put on a personality and try it out, adopting the clothes, music, mannerisms etc and then let it go. Like maybe this is who I am, oh no, maybe I’m like this person over here...
But here’s the problem. Knowing this stuff doesn’t make it any easier to live with. And in some ways it only makes things harder because I’m aware of how much work I still have to do. Just because I know I hate myself doesn’t mean I know what to do about it.
As time goes by and my experiences of being rejected get repeated, I build fences around my emotions to protect myself. The more times I’m smacked in the face by how much I hate myself, the more my subconscious does to not have to experience that again. I don’t get close to people. I don’t let people help me. And I certainly do not depend on anyone for anything. I don’t deserve anything from anyone, and other people have only let me down in the past and caused me pain. Better to be by myself.
Yes, I can see what a sad situation this is when I write it down, but it does make logical sense and it certainly makes a lot of sense to my subconscious.
And this is where self harm rears it’s ugly head again. There’s several ways it helps in this situation. I don’t want to feel painful emotions so I do something to cause myself pain. I hate myself, so I punish myself by self harming. And I feel pain emotionally and want to see it physically manifested, and I draw pleasure out of turning emotional pain into physical wounds.
Yes, I realise how unwell this makes me sound. But the drive to self harm is really really strong and this is why. It’s like an addiction. Feel a bad feeling = self harm and it will go away. Hate yourself = punish yourself by cutting and feel a bit better. Cut yourself = get satisfaction from having physical scars instead of pain inside your head.
I’m going to have to write part 4 I think. Still got more to say...
The last few months part 2
I wasn’t going to post this but then thought this might give some perspective on how I was feeling back in August. Here goes:
I know I haven't written much recently, but it's not been because I haven't wanted to. I am currently struggling with an episode and it's hard to know what and how much to share. I started this blog to help people like me, to share my experiences in the hope that it might make at least one person feel less alone in what they are going through. And also to increase understanding and awareness of what it feels like to have a mental illness. Stigma is a very real problem and I hope that if more people have understanding and empathy then the shame around having a mental illness will decrease. But, I do have to be aware of the consequences of baring my soul to the world - on my job, my child, and my family. It is a scary thing to expose my innermost thoughts to scrutiny, and I have to hope that by doing so I don't inadvertantly hurt anyone I love.
So, with that in mind, here goes...
I have been very unstable for about the last six weeks. I'm not sure why, sometimes these things happen, but I suspect in this case it was a build up of a whole bunch of stressors. I have job stuff, family stuff, financial pressure, health issues, my daughter's challenges and some personal things going on, and my breaking point is a lot lower than other people's.
In addition to all that, my latest psychiatrist decided a while back that I was over medicated, and I've been on a plan for the last 6 months to reduce my medications significantly. I'm down from 1400mg of Epilim to 600mg per day, and 375mg of Venlafaxine to just 150mg. I'm completely off Temazepan and Quetiapine now as well. Whether that makes a difference is hard to tell. My psychiatrist tells me drugs are ineffective for BPD, though I have chronic dysthymia which is why I'm still on an anti-depressant. I personally think the Epilim (a mood stabliser) was actually helping flatten out the ups and downs in my mood, but I am willing to try and decrease dosages and see what happens. One of the side-effects of being on so many drugs at such high doses was the massive weight gain I've experienced, at one point I put on 30kg from Lithium in just 4 months (I was on Lithium before Epilim). I'm hoping that with a decrease in dosage I'll be able to drop some of the extra weight.
Whatever the cause, I've been very unbalanced in the last couple of months. I struggle to sleep at the best of times, and my sleep had got completely out of sync.
I know I haven't written much recently, but it's not been because I haven't wanted to. I am currently struggling with an episode and it's hard to know what and how much to share. I started this blog to help people like me, to share my experiences in the hope that it might make at least one person feel less alone in what they are going through. And also to increase understanding and awareness of what it feels like to have a mental illness. Stigma is a very real problem and I hope that if more people have understanding and empathy then the shame around having a mental illness will decrease. But, I do have to be aware of the consequences of baring my soul to the world - on my job, my child, and my family. It is a scary thing to expose my innermost thoughts to scrutiny, and I have to hope that by doing so I don't inadvertantly hurt anyone I love.
So, with that in mind, here goes...
I have been very unstable for about the last six weeks. I'm not sure why, sometimes these things happen, but I suspect in this case it was a build up of a whole bunch of stressors. I have job stuff, family stuff, financial pressure, health issues, my daughter's challenges and some personal things going on, and my breaking point is a lot lower than other people's.
In addition to all that, my latest psychiatrist decided a while back that I was over medicated, and I've been on a plan for the last 6 months to reduce my medications significantly. I'm down from 1400mg of Epilim to 600mg per day, and 375mg of Venlafaxine to just 150mg. I'm completely off Temazepan and Quetiapine now as well. Whether that makes a difference is hard to tell. My psychiatrist tells me drugs are ineffective for BPD, though I have chronic dysthymia which is why I'm still on an anti-depressant. I personally think the Epilim (a mood stabliser) was actually helping flatten out the ups and downs in my mood, but I am willing to try and decrease dosages and see what happens. One of the side-effects of being on so many drugs at such high doses was the massive weight gain I've experienced, at one point I put on 30kg from Lithium in just 4 months (I was on Lithium before Epilim). I'm hoping that with a decrease in dosage I'll be able to drop some of the extra weight.
Whatever the cause, I've been very unbalanced in the last couple of months. I struggle to sleep at the best of times, and my sleep had got completely out of sync.
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.
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