Emotionally Spent [BFMH]

Thursday I had a family visitation to attend. I received a phone call days earlier from my estranged father informing me that my one of my uncles had passed away. An uncle I remember who would bring his family over for Sunday dinners.

I was never super close to them, although we did attend the same high school. I hadn’t seen them since the 80’s. I don’t remember them attending my grandparents funeral, don’t remember much about the 80’s to be truthful, especially the late 80’s.

It was going to be tough going to this visitation to see family I no longer associated with. My ASPD issues were overshadowed by my BPD issues. I wasn’t that cocky arrogant person I used to be. I was fearful, anxious and borderline unstable.

My Beloved arrived home from work, I’m dressed and ready to go. “I really don’t want to go.”

“Go where?”

“REALLY?”

He sits there in the chair blank faced. I tell him that dinner is in the oven and I walk upstairs trying to maintain & contain my unstable emotions. I can feel the emotions starting to boil, lid is almost off the pot. I manage to pull myself together, in the back of my mind I’m concerned that my Beloved may have some health issues. I push that aside for the moment and I remained in my office. Because of the past history with my father and his second wife I need my Beloved to be my shield. I was hurt & angry that this event didn’t mean that much to him to remember. Then the rational part of me says it may not have been a big deal to him to remember, sometimes when you really don’t want to do something you tend to push it out of your mind, right? thus forgetting. I’ve done it to him, so I couldn’t be too mad at him.

I tossed back a shot of booze before leaving the house. While I was talking to my cousins and giving my condolences I felt a tug at my sweater. It was my estranged father. Looking old, just really old. He asked me if I wanted to meet my replacements. Since I had stopped talking to him in the early 2000’s my father had decided to “adopt” his cousins adult daughters. Girls he hadn’t had contact with through their youth yet suddenly they are one big happy family. These are also the girls (my cousins) who will inherit my share of the family estate. Should I be jealous or angry? Not really. I made my decision to stay away from the family.

My father reintroduced me to them as if for the first time meeting them. I could no longer tell them apart, they looked so much alike. They were married, to the same looking white guy with the same looking white kids with those white kid names. We all shook hands. I laughed and said “how formal of us to shake hands” they both looked at me strangely and their husbands laughed. I was standoffish, I know. My father said that he would be leaving shortly, I said my goodbyes to them. They said the polite thing of “it was nice to meet you.” REALLY?! We’re fucking cousins you goobers! UGH. I said “see you at the next funeral” as I turned to walk away.

My father & I had brief words. He told my youngest son a brief story about the family history. Made jabs at my Beloved for being overweight. He tried to make jabs at my son but being 6’4 and 240 pounds my father chose his words carefully. I felt only uncomfortable during this encounter. With nothing to say to my father, I didn’t want to have to speak loudly because he’s deaf now. I never acknowledged his wife, as I did see her standing there by the door. I waved goodbye to the remaining family and knew that this will be the last time I see them. As I was walking out of the door I remembered that I didn’t hug my father goodbye I was focused on just getting out the door quickly. I turned around to see where my shield & son were, my manchild was locked in a tight embrace with my father a strong & firm hug. I thought “oh fuck, I should probably do that too.” I turned back walked to him “see ya Pop.” Hugging him with that “back pat” type of hug. It was so uncomfortable for the both of us. I even laughed and said “oh how cute we both gave the back pat hug.” My Beloved laughed out loud as he knew exactly what I meant. My father stood there for a moment then chuckled. It was all very surreal with people standing in the background frozen and those photo collages of my uncle in the corners of the room.

It was all very emotional. When I have those type of days it’s normally followed by a day of fatigue but not wanting to sleep and sluggishness. A drain of my power source. Keeping to keep my borderline issues under control takes work. Today, I would be thrilled to be able to cuddle up in bed with Mr. Sam. It’s a cool gray day today and that would be perfect. Mr Sam has been occupied with the care of his ailing mother 24/7 until she is able to move about freely. I feel for him but that’s his decision.

When I get like this I seldom feel like going out for drinks at my regular Friday night dive bar. However, due to the encounter with my father I will be meeting a close friend to have a few drinks. Days like this I reach out to those closest to me because I need them to reenergize my power source. Its days like today when I question why Mr. Sam is around. I have that need to relief that numbness that I feel or perhaps I want to feel something besides what I’m feeling now. Sex was always great mood booster. I could always count on the endorphin release after a hard & dirty fucking. Who knows what the night holds in store for me…its still early.

His Darkness affects My Darkness

I don’t remember how long it took me to finally trust or to feel secure with my Beloved. It’s going on 20 years of insanity between us. Looking back I don’t think we had a lot of problems but outsiders looking in have told me that they thought we were getting divorced because of all the bickering.

Now that Mr. Sam has been in my life I can see where & how my insecurities crop up. For those of us who suffer from Borderline, having someone else who also has a mental illness only causes more issues that need to be addressed.

Caring for them both for them deeply, I don’t ever want to lose either one of them. However, at times one of them shuts down on me. I feel left out. I have no idea whats going on in that head of his. Sadly that the sociopath in me doesn’t care, but that’s with anyone. I’m not a person to ask lots of questions, unless I’m looking for something. I probably should ask questions because someone who suffers from chronic depression can easily slip down that slope into total darkness to be lost in their madness.

I always have to “emotionally vomit” on one of the important men in my life. Emotionally vomiting (my term that I always use) is when I have to get everything out of my being so that I don’t erupt on the wrong person or do or say something, anything that I will regret. So one day my Beloved asked me “Wait. Wait. Are you mad at me? Did I do or say anything to upset you? Is this directed at me?”

I laughed and said NO silly. I just need to vent so that I don’t explode. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. I continued. It’s what I do now. I vent on one of the two men, who ever is available at the time. Now if neither one is available then there is a problem because I get frustrated, impatient and restless. Those feelings then push me to do impulsive things, things I wouldn’t normally do, well maybe. Things that try to fill the emotional void. Sometimes I think I do things to make me feel, something, anything.

Emotions … acting without the benefit of intellect.

I know can see that communication is key in any relationship. But if one has a mental illness and shuts down then what? Do I get in their face and demand for them to talk? I won’t. I can’t. When it comes to Mr. Sam I am still walking on shaky ground. What bothers me the most is his inability to just tell me what he needs, if its space, time or a shoulder. Then again when someone is falling into their darkness how can they reach out? I know that he is not leaving me (yet) and I am not leaving him. I do enjoy his friendship, his tenderness and ability to see me for who I truly am.

The best thing for me is to keep my hands busy because when the mind has nothing to focus on then that’s when I get into trouble. I have tons of things to do. Things that I have neglected for months. But first things first, get some photos done and then finish up all those reviews I have.

After I published this post, one of the last songs Charlie had played for me came on my playlist. I floated away to that moment that our relationship was falling apart, but the lyrics to this song can now apply to Mr. Sam. I don’t ever want to lose him but yet a part of me knows nothing last forever. I will do what I do best when we get like this. If you wanna know the song you can find out by clicking this youtube link.

Emergency Exit

Sometimes I wish there was an “emergency exit” door on my life, during those situations when its awkward, uncomfortable or when I know that my behavior will have consequences. Last night was a perfect night for an emergency exit door. Some times I look for the exit door in my relationships. If I can’t find out I’ll make one or cause the other person to push me out of the door.

I guess I look for the exit when my emotions get too much for me. When I feel that I am losing or when I don’t want to deal with the issues at hand. Isn’t it easier just to walk out of that exit door than to have to look at those issues at hand?

Yeah, it’s a cop-out and a lot of people just walk out of the exit door of your life and don’t look back.emergency exit, sassycat3000, borderline personbality disorder, mental illness, blog for mental health awareness, latina sexblogger, a to z challenge

Being a borderline, my emotions are up & down and back & forth. My hand on the exit door handle, threatening to leave the person whom I wish most to connect with. The fear of being smothered mixed with the fear of losing my autonomy pushes me to the door every time. There were a few times that I walked out of the exit door of someone’s life, stood on the other side of the door frantically pulling on the handle attempting to re-enter from the emergency exit. Its impossible and can’t be done. I stand there completely alone, empty and wanting to feel something. Anything to remove the pain of my stupid mistake. Never meaning to hurt the one I love, but I did. Now I’m hurting as well. Now wtf?!

If you happen to fall in love with a Borderline, please know that it’s not you, its them. You need rules. You need to always be communicating with them and breaking everything down so that they understand as if they were a child, but never ever sound condescending. This will push them quicker than ice cream melting on a 90 degree summer day.

Here I stand looking at the emergency exit door. Just looking at it. Considering all my options. I’m not ready to walk through the door just yet.

Alcohol [W4W61]

April is Alcohol Awareness Month. So far I have been out drinking twice this month. I was planning on drinking tonight as well.April is Alcohol Awareness Month

Charlie text me asking if I was coming to watch him shoot darts again tonight. I was busy at work, didn’t text him back right away. I had felt exhaustion early this morning, so I had taken a nap for about 2 hours. I was behind on my chores. I needed to make supper. My guilt won’t allow me to leave the house unless my chores are done & as long as I have made food to eat, warm up.

I changed my clothes and headed out the door. I knew Charlie, really just wanted me there to keep him company in a strange place. The same as I use him in his place. I know Charlie & I use each other for emotional support, selfishness needs and to understand each others childhood issues. He is an alcoholic, drug addict, gambler and sex addict. He has completely fallen off the wagon and is being dragged by it.

I walked inside our place. He’s playing the jukebox. I walk up to him and he slurs his words. He’s in slow motion. He whispers to me that he has taken two Xanax. One Xanax will knock me out for about 10 hours. I hate them things. I was given a bottle when I was first diagnosed with PTSD resulting from my motorcycle accident. I couldn’t sleep, I was afraid to leave the house, panic attacks. When I would take them I felt slow and numb. Having BPD I was not used to feeling. It freaks me out, I feel like I’m a zombie. Not to mention the lack of a sex drive. I wanted sex, but the desire, the urge was gone. No thank you. I tossed them in the trash. Never took Xanax again.

Charlie took two. TWO. Whole ones. In addition to the booze he was drinking. He had text me around 3pm. It was 5:30 and he was already slurring and could hardly walk.

jukeboxHe dragged me around the floor dancing to Mexican music, which he loves when he’s reliving or remembering his childhood trauma. Since he’s been staying with his mother, I could see his triggers in neon lights in his head. He was bouncing from his different friends. I sat at the table in the corner. After I got totally irritated with the bartender who didn’t take my order. I had my money in my hand when he made eye contact with me, but walked to the other side of the bar. I looked other there and watched him serve the others, but not me. I briefly thought that Charlie might have told him not to serve me, but I don’t think Charlie would do that to me. I watched Charlie stumble to the bathroom and I thought to myself “Leave! Leave now. You don’t need this. You are not his babysitter.”

When he came out of the bathroom, he walked over to the end of the bar. I heard a loud thud. I couldn’t see at first. I stood up and looked in Charlie’s direction. I looked at the rest of the drunks who were sitting at the bar stand up to look where the noise came from. A few of them turned at looked at me, I decided at that moment I was leaving. I felt like I was having a heart attack. My chest hurt to breath and I wanted to cry. I seen pieces of my childhood when Charlie on the floor. I won’t cry in public, Charlie and the bartender turned to look at me as I walked past them. I smiled at Charlie. He probably thought I was headed to the bathroom, but I walked out the back door of the bar.

I sat in my car, thinking. How will you feel if this is the time he dies? Can you live with yourself knowing you left him like that? I know what happens to addicts if they do not get sober. They die, go insane, end up in prison. Death has tried to take him a few times, he always manages to come back from the brink. Prison, well he will find out at the end of the month if he goes to prison (for two years). My fear is that he will end up dead, falling and busting open his skull once again.

Seeing Charlie tonight breaks my heart to see him in such pain, to see him vulnerable to his actions.

About an hour after I was home & writing the above, my phone rang. It was him. Crying & whining on the phone about how I left him, how he loved me, how sorry he was and how the bar he was at wanted to kick him out for being obnoxious. He pleaded with me to come and bring him my darts because he had to use bar darts. My heart ached, only because I didn’t want anything more to happen to him. I drove there only to see him, stumbling around, itching for a fight, being annoyed with other people. He didn’t want to be touched by the other guys in the bar. I could hug him, caress his face but when ever a man got to close he became on edge. His friends were telling me about the fight he had the night before, how he is starting to spiral once again. It’s the alcohol. His mother is an alcoholic, suffers from mental illness and drug addiction. He father died from alcoholism. He father had been estranged from everyone in his family. I told Charlie, that’s his future. He needs help. I can’t force him, I know that. I haven’t been there when he has been beaten & broken. I have been there to help balance out his demons with mine. My fear is that if he dies as a result of the alcohol, a part of me will die with him. Because I often thought if I could understand some of his demons then I can understand mine.

alcohol awareness month

Over time, excessive alcohol use, both in the form of heavy drinking or binge drinking, can lead to numerous health problems, chronic diseases, neurological impairments and social problems, including but not limited to:

    • Dementia, stroke and neuropathy
    • Cardiovascular problems, including myocardial infarction, cardiomyopathy, atrial fibrillation and hypertension
    • Psychiatric problems, including depression, anxiety, and suicide
    • Social problems, including unemployment, lost productivity, family problems, violence including child maltreatment, fights and homicide
    • Unintentional injuries, such as motor-vehicle traffic crashes, falls, drowning, burns and firearm injuries.
    • Increased risk for many kinds of cancers, including liver, mouth, throat, larynx (voice box) and esophagus
    • Liver diseases, including fatty liver, alcoholic hepatitis, cirrhosis
    • Gastrointestinal problems, including pancreatitis and gastritis
    • Alcohol abuse or dependence – alcoholism. Facts about Alcohol

First Step is to Admit There is a Problem [BFMH2015]

It’s been a while since I have written anything personal or related to mental health. I have been busy getting back to work, stillFireball working on Spring cleaning that has now turned into Fall cleaning. However, autumn is my favorite season. Favorite season even though I spiral out of control. 

I truly don’t know what my triggers are for this down ward emotional and life spiral. I recently had an opportunity to get a better job. It’s been a year in the making. The interview went very well, the owner said he would call me within the week. I never got a phone call. I figured that I didn’t get the job. So, I did something that I haven’t done in a very long time. Then the phone call came, it was onto the next level of application. I failed. I failed. I failed. Did I really? Or did I self-sabotage my life because I was afraid that I would fail after I got the job? I’m not sure if that’s what I did. Maybe I like the option to complain about  how miserable my job is. 

The next day I was invited out-of-town to see a bar band. I was looking forward to getting out on a Friday night, chatting with bar people and drinking a few drinks. However, it didn’t work out that way. First, I stopped at my local watering hole. I spoke with the regulars there. I had two drinks of vodka cranberry. One shot of Fireball Whiskey that was bought by one of the regulars. I drank that all within an hour. Hopped in the car and drove to the other bar. I could feel the effects of the alcohol when I arrived. My friend noticed I was drunk already. 

When I go out to bars, I like to order the specials once I am familiar with whoever is serving the booze. [ALWAYS TIP YOUR BARTENDER]. I noticed that they were serving “Not my Father’s Root Beer” so I ordered one. Oh, back up a bit to the drive there. I had taken 4 ounces of rum with 28 ounces of pineapple juice mixed in a water bottle that I was sipping on in the car. Now, have you noticed the risk taking behavior? Reckless. Selfish. Careless. Never thinking about any of the consequences for my decisions.

Back to the “root beer” I drank that down. I was feeling no pain. Cocky & secure with who I am. Opposite of how I have felt about myself lately. I miss my drinking partner. Why? Because he drank more, I lived through him so that  I wouldn’t have to risk my life. Sounds selfish, doesn’t it?! I would watch his train wreck of a life, safe and secure about my life. I could tell myself “you’re not that bad.” This time I had only myself to look at. I was starting to have trouble walking, words were starting to slur. BUT I kept on drinking. I asked about the specials. Before I had left I drank down two more vodka-cranberrys. Usually  when I got like this, I would, at some point have sex with a random stranger or pick some guy up. I’m too old for that. There were no men that looked appealing to me not mention that no guys there even looked at me. I did take a photo with some random guy, just because he stood out. Would I have had sex with him? No. Too Young. 

Random StrangerThere was an anorexic looking blonde who came up to me and asked if I had any “weed.” Sorry blondie but that’s not my drug of choice. She said “you’re hot.” I was wearing cut off shorts, cut off band shirt and a flannel long sleeve with my high heel ankle boots. Hubby mentioned before I left “you look like a grunge rocker.” “Yeah, overweight gray-haired grunge rocker!!” I laughed. I had taken photos of the band, practicing with my new Nikon. Rocking to one of the cover versions of “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains, when blondie came over to dance with me. I laughed. Danced with her until I got bored. That’s what I do, I quickly lose interest and will walk away from the scene. The next time I danced with her was when I was really feeling the buzz. Dancing to “Slither” by Velvet Revolver, the lead singer of the band jumped down between us. I was behind him, she was bending over showing her ass, he would thrust towards her and I would do that to him. I had flashbacks to my threesome experiences and stopped dancing, walked off the floor. Although I was very drunk I do remember 90% of the evening. That part I remember because of how it made me feel. I felt ugly, old, fat and unwanted. Past experiences with men were that I always was passed over for the blonde haired woman. The feeling I was looking for, I couldn’t find. I felt like I was sliding further down the hole. It was shortly after that “kick too my gut” that I left.

I wanted to go back to the place where I felt somewhat comfortable. Not only that but I wanted to beat the cops. Cops come out around midnight in that city and nail damn near every & any one. I told my friend I was leaving, she walked me to my car. I handed her my phone asked her to text my hubby to tell him I was on my way. She did. I had the rest of my rum in the car. She grabbed the bottle and started arguing with me about having it in the car with me. I screamed at her “Give it to me.” I grabbed it back and slammed it all down. I tossed the bottle at her. I remember leaving the parking lot. I lost time. I got lost. I was out in the country somewhere, northeast of where I was supposed to be. I remember passing a parked Sheriff’s suburban. It was raining and dark. I felt like I was driving forever, I kept turning left thinking that left is west. I remember looking at my speed and it was 40 mph, highway speed is 55. I looked for any sign to give me an idea of where I was. OH! SHIT! I seen one, I’m wayyyyyyy lost. I call my hubby and start telling him that I’m lost. He is so calm. I love him more than I did yesterday. He calmly asks “what do you see?” 

“NOTHING!!!! I’m on a dead-end” (so I thought) there are two factories with cars in the parking lot. I pull into a parking lot and turn around to go back the same way I came. “What are you doing?” I hear shuffling on the other end.

“I’m coming to get you!”vodkacranberry

“How can you when I don’t even know where I’m at?”

“Keep talking to me…just keep talking me. What did you see?”

“I just passed through an intersection! OHHH Menard’s on Route X!!!”

“OK…I’ll be right there…keep talking to me..”

I started to cry and SUDDENLY without warning. I puked on myself, while I was driving. “I’m done.” I yelled. I dropped the phone. I just kept vomiting. It was like an out of body experience. I could see myself as if I was looking through the window. A voice said “you’re pathetic!” I answered myself “I know, I don’t know what happened.” “Well, stop driving stupid before you kill someone!” I pulled into the Menards parking lot. Pulled my keys out of the ignition and tossed them in the backseat. I had to vomit again. I opened the car door and tossed my cookies some more. I passed out briefly with the door open. Came to thinking “close & lock the door before someone kills you.” I looked up and seen his car turn through intersection towards me. I passed out again. He startled me when he knocked on the car window. He opened the door. I couldn’t walk even through I tried. “I’m trying to stand up and walk.” 

“I know baby, I got you.” he says.

I’m tossed in his car. We leave my car there, covered in vomit. We arrive home, he unlocked the door before trying to peeling me out of the car. I blacked out again, came to when I was vomiting on the floor. Somehow I fell out of the chair onto my face onto the floor. “Here’s a towel.” He pushes the towel under my face. I feel him undressing me, warm washcloth against my skin. Blacked out.

I came to again, this time on the sofa. I got up tried to run to the bathroom. Made it. Cleaned up after myself, went back to the sofa. Passed out again. For the next 24 hours I was vomiting and could barely move. 

Am I an alcoholic? No. Not in the true sense. Sure there are a few points that I would say yes that I “have issues” with drinking. Like, sometimes I drink more than I intended too or I stay too long at the bar ’cause I’m having a good time. Sure, being hung over interferes with my family responsibilities. OH MY GOD. I just realized that I have enablers in my life! I was a bit jealous of “Charlie” because I would be there for him, he had other people to keep him from serious trouble, family obligations etc. BUT so do I! Yes, I have also put myself in harmful situations. Does that make me an alcoholic? No, but those are warning lights.

Did I drink too much in a short amount of time? Yes. I drunk all of that within 4 hours. However, I think I’ve drunk more in the same amount of time. I truly don’t know how or why my body reacted for violently this time. Could this have been alcohol poisoning? Probably. Someone mentioned to me “Maybe someone put something in your drink when you weren’t looking.” I replied “nahhh, this is all my doing.” 

Blog for Mental Health 2015What I do know is that I was so irresponsible (nothing new), reckless, depressed, full of self-pity. Then the next day the overwhelming guilt kicked in, told myself if I had “him” in my life I wouldn’t be this way now. Before I completely derail I have to reassess my triggers and get the key to those triggers. I must keep my mind & hands busy otherwise if I don’t this could happen again. I truly believe that the universe was and is watching over me. I will not make any predictions for the future. I will admit that I was selfish, lacking in self-control and reckless. I let my illness get the best of me, it dragged me down to a bottom that I never wanna see again. I’m not saying just because I have an illness that it’s my excuse for acting out. I’m saying that I didn’t take responsibility for my illness and the spiral it caused. So now what? Knowing that I am slipping into a dark place, I made an appointment with my counselor.  Sometimes we have to go back so that we can go forward. First step is to admit there is a problem and that help is needed. 

Being Robin Williams [BFMH2014]

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photo credit: !efatima via photopin cc

Reading hearing about the suicide of Robin Williams, I asked myself why? How did he get to the edge of despair? And so late in life? From the first moment I seen him on Happy Days, I fantasized about being Mrs Williams one day. I found him attractive, his thick dark hair was the first thing I noticed. As he grew older I still found him handsome, even his very hairy body. I would close my eyes, trying to imagine what making breakfast together would be like.

His personality was one that always made me laugh. Then I thought I bet he is completely the opposite in his private life. That he could almost become borderline reclusive. He used the comedy as a facade to cover his insecurities. I do that to, making people laugh, showing off and drinking so that I don’t appear that socially awkward weirdo. However, after being out in a social gathering, I become emotionally drained, exhausted and sleep like a rock. It takes so much energy to put on that “act.” Worse when friends expect it, when they ask “what’s wrong with you?”

I read how wonderful he was to others, like going to visit Christopher Reeve and making him laugh. Doing shows for the soldiers during wartime. He was always “on.” He was always performing when he was out. It seemed he could never just be – him. Maybe he was when no one was looking, in the privacy of his own home. Yet sometimes spouses are more demanding, sometimes they expect a performance. I know at work I would become resentful towards my co-workers because they always wanting me to make them laugh. I, often referred to it as being the “trained monkey.”

Somehow I end up being the trained monkey. I make people laugh, my mother, co-workers, my kids, My beloved. It’s like a drug, hearing their laughter. However, I would get tired, angry, resentful and bored. I want someone to make me laugh, not a giggle but a stomach holding laugh. When people like Robin do not stop to re-energize it’s a disaster in the making. He went to rehab before he tried using again. Good choice. He was struggling with inner demons, not just depression, but others. He was addicted to a high that only he knows. I think he became tired. At 63, that’s an old age to commit suicide. I think he tried to find a healthy way to get his high, but couldn’t find one. He was used to drugs, sex, booze and laughter.  He was always giving of himself, his spirit, his being. Maybe he thought, in his mind he had nothing left to give the world and who would Robin Williams be without the ability to make people laugh, giving of himself.

Robin had hit a bottom in which he felt there were no windows or doors. I don’t look at him as a coward for taking his own life. I admire his courage, after the stupid decisions I made Sunday. I wanna live. Robin’s voices, the demons won. I truly believe he just tired of fighting those demons. We have all been there, in that darkest hour of our life. Bottom line: There are no answers. It is what it is.

Remission, Recovery or Cured

medium_330043763I have read a few blogs about BPD and a few people state that they no longer meet the criteria for being diagnosed with the disorder. I wonder, if a person is diagnosed with a mental illness, such a depression or BPD, PTSD, doesn’t that mean that person always has the illness? When there are no symptoms present isn’t that remission? If the person is showing some but not all the symptoms of the illness and working in a program to rid themselves of all the symptoms isn’t that recovery?

At what point to they completely stop their therapy? Wouldn’t they need to continue some sort of follow-up every six months or a year. Maybe have someone who can aid them when they feel close to relapsing. I just keep relating it to cancer or addiction. I remember hearing that some people stop taking their medication because they start to feel better and think they no longer need the medication. Then their life spirals out of control.

The BPD person needs to be aware of their possible triggers, so that they would not jeopardize their mental stability. There must be a lot of therapy sessions involved in order for a person to be aware of their triggers. I look back to when I went to get tested for ADHD and the psychiatrist said he thought I had some of the symptoms, but then when I went into weekly counseling sessions. The counselor kept asking me what was it about my spouse that made him different from all my other relationships. Because ppl like me, with BPD symptoms find it difficult to keep up long-lasting relationships. I just celebrated my 16th year being married to My Beloved. What makes him different from the other men?

I ask myself that a lot. Compared to the men before him, he is completing the opposite of what I was accustom to dating. He is older, wiser, more settled. Calm. Methodical. I think he is co-dependent. Just my opinion, a part of him allows me to do whatever I want. I’m spoiled. He allows certain behaviors, which the other men would have had major problems with. I don’t wanna say it’s that he lets me get away with whatever I want, but it’s how I feel. Sometimes it’s upsetting because he doesn’t put his foot down. I guess I want him to save me from myself (sometimes).

Then there is my job. I stayed at one government job for over 15 years. What was different about that job? LOL the money! No seriously, the counselor wanted me to really think about it. How was I able to keep this job for so long. Now my current job is going on 4 years now.  I read that some BPD people have difficulty maintaining employment.

I have never self harmed. I do take part in risky & reckless & impulsive behavior. Unstable self-image from time to time.

I understand there are some things that trigger me to wanna act out. Different times of the year, make me unstable-emotionally. Mostly, due to the Seasonal Affective Disorder. The only symptoms I have with SAD is social withdrawal (irl) weight gain and craving foods high carbohydrates. I know when it hits me and when it stops. So, do I take medication? Nah. I make sure that I get enough sleep, lots of exercise. Not to lose weight but to maintain and to get the good chemicals in the brain to get kick started. 

Maybe its the wording, I don’t suffer from BPD now, I’m in remission. I just wanna know what the process is that a person gets to the point with they can say “I no longer meet the criteria for BPD.”

photo credit: 5 O’ Clock Lab via photopin cc

Stigma [BFMH2014]

 Do you think the stigma against mental health is beginning to fade compared to 10 years ago?

It’s been my recent experience that there is some stigma with mental health. However, when it comes to some friends & family, it seems to be easier for them to make reasons or excuses, allowances for me to “be” the way I am. It wasn’t my fault, it’s the way my parents treated me and so on.

I still will not tell the outer circle of friends. I think if I said “oh by the way, I’m bipolar or have schizophrenia.” There might be more of a stigma with those than with BPD. My opinion is that since I’m higher functioning, seemingly well and can be the fun chick. Most seem to overlook it, like it’s no big deal.  Not to sound mean, but because I tend not to be emotionally unstable in public, people don’t seem to be bothered with me being “different.”

When I first stumbled upon this whole “mental illness” blogging category. I realized there are millions of people with a mental illness. Some suffer from mild depression to some stuff I’ve never heard of. And most people I talk to have some form of “dysfunction” to me that’s an illness. It’s like its the new cool thing to have a mental illness of some kind. Whether it’s addiction, depression, BPD, PSTD. I do think that  society might view some illness as “cooler” than others. Like having Anti-social Personality Disorder, I think that would make people feel uneasy when they fully understood it. Another is schizophrenia, I think that one fills people’s minds with the homeless person pushing the cart with foil paper on their head and talking to themselves about government plots.

I think in another 10 years, it won’t be as it is today. More education, more people talking about their stories will help to ease the current stigma of mental illness. Mental illness is just now of one those diseases, illness, sickness that pretty much everyone has. There might even be those out there who don’t even know they are sick with a mental illness.

Keep in mind the above are merely my personal opinions on the subject of mental health stigma.

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