Tsunami (Otherwise known as "Where I'm At")

Some of you may know/remember that November is often a difficult month for me, and despite last year's improvement, this year was something of a set-back. I don't know how obvious it's been (either here or elsewhere), but my mental health has been declining for quite some time. There were several things feeding it, including another visit with my father, but the result is that for particularly the last several months, I've been very unwell.

I've been increasingly paranoid, guilty and ashamed, and withdrawing/guarding my comments, because my thoughts lead me to believe I'm unwanted anyway -- every comment or lack of comment has looked like a closed door; I've been losing large chunks of time and not even realising it; the hallucinations that are part of either my depression or the BPD, and indeed my entire sense of reality, have all gradually spiralled out of control; and all my efforts to right the roller coaster have only confused the issues more.

As a result of all this, after what had been I think around 3 years, I was admitted to the hospital's psychiatric unit for just over a week. I suppose I think that if I had just worked harder at being well, if I had tried harder, this wouldn't have happened. I find myself feeling deeply ashamed to have been admitted back there when I know that I don't think badly of anyone else who is admitted.

The upshot of all this is that my medication and my diagnosis have both been changed, and that there is talk of more intensive support being available, especially since the program I've been seeing my private psychologist (Sonia) under has now ended, leaving me with four sessions until next year (quite a drop since I had been seeing her 2 to 3 times a week). I'm not certain exactly what that support will entail but there was mention of a case manager to help organise some sort of housing, a public psychiatrist once a month or so and someone from the Mobile Intensive Treatment team to see a couple of times a week.

In the meantime, what I do know is that I've been put back onto Avanza (mirtazapine) - though how long that will last (as its sedating effects are already beginning to wear off) remains to be seen - and my diagnosis has been officially changed to also include Dissociative Identities Disorder. I must admit, it feels quite surreal to have that on my record after spending 12 years knowing but undiagnosed. I'm still sorting through how I feel about it, that's for sure.

There's been a lot of upheaval. There's still a lot of upheaval. I'm doing better than I was prior to my admission, but I'm still very unwell and struggling with many of the same issues I was having difficulty with before I went into hospital.

I Guess Sometimes Running Isn't The Answer

Here I am, doing the same thing I have always done, hoping for a better outcome without changing the direction of the flooding tide. There are heavy decisions hanging over my head that I am avoiding in hopes that they will make themselves; if I wait long enough, they might... but having them hanging is not making each day easier.

Avoidance. Escape. I want them; I feel as though I need them.

I know that avoidance as a coping mechanism almost all of the time falls short of "helpful" or "healthy"; and yet... It has been more than a week since I sat at my stepmother's table and shared a meal with them. I have tried to push away the thoughts, the emotions, the ideas. I have worked to build ladders against the walls of paranoia so that I can pretend they don't exist. I have built dams and wells and thrown into them the sadness, the guilt, the fear, the anger, the shame, the disgust. They continue to bubble up, bubble out and flood my brain the way the Brisbane river flooded Southbank last week. I have alternately reached out and retreated; struck out and struck in; fought and loved and hidden. And what I have done more than anything else is run. In any way I can, I have taken off running and not stopped until that panicked feeling went down a little again.

I need to find a way to control this crisis, because this became one far too quickly and far too strongly. I am in serious distress and I need to level it out enough that my skills have some impact.

I've been thinking about this all day, and I think I know how I'm going to do that. I think I know the right way to handle this, but I'm not absolutely sure. I might make it worse - but at least I will have tried... and if I don't do anything, it's still going to keep getting worse on its own.

Don't get me wrong; as much as I have avoided, I have also been trying to do what I need to, in tiny ways. I wrote a journal; I wasted about four thousand words avoiding and then I wrote a thousand words about the visit. I have mentioned that I'm struggling. And tiny ways at trying this are great, but they're not enough. if I want to keep my head above water, I need to make bigger steps.

I need to actually stop running. I need to start looking at this for what it was, and that's going to mean learning how to accept it. It's going to mean talking about it and writing about it and actually being honest about it. It's going to be uncomfortable.

But how do I voice this tangle of emotions? How do I extricate myself from the guilt, shame and disgust long enough to allow any of the other emotions a look in; or for long enough to allow anyone else in? I need to figure it out and soon.

I need to trust in my own beliefs, I need to trust in my own self; I need to let go enough to trust in the pockets of safety that there are here where the waters aren't so rough and I can rest a little.

When you are swept off your feet and carried away on the tide, how do you regain your equilibrium?

Thursday Thoughts: Letting Go Of 'The Blame Game'

Last week, as I sat ruminating over a phone conversation that had upset me, and thinking about my impending skin graft, I was startled by a 'flash of vision' in my mind's eye. Thoughts of the skin graft and what it meant, and "how did I get here" lead my brain to conjuring up an image of a photo, taken way back in the '80s when I was a wee, small thing. Unexpectedly, I saw myself as a child, through new eyes. I became aware of things in a way I haven't previously been aware of them. Suddenly I was looking at a photo of a child, any child; not the me-self in child form, but an actual child. I was watching that child, the one in the photograph, and I realised something that just blew me away. That little girl? She was a real little girl. She was just like every other little girl I've seen in my time working in childcare centres, at the shops, at the park... everywhere I go. She was born innocent, she was born whole. She laughed, she cried, she loved, she played, she had thoughts and feelings that were all her own. She had the same value that I attribute to all (other) children.

And she was me. I was that child. Once upon a time, I was that innocent little girl. There's a real sense of wonder and amazement there. On the other side of that, though, is a real sense of horror. Because that means I have to face something I dance around facing every now and then when it's all-too-obvious for one reason or another. If the reality of that little girl is that she was born innocent and with value, then the reality is also that what happened to that little girl wasn't due to anything she did, or said, or was. Ouch.

You see, holding onto the belief (Myth!) that I was to blame for everything difficult, unfortunate or upsetting in my life has allowed me to regain some semblance of control. I say that I don't want control, and I'll usually hand it over to someone else as soon as I realise I've got it -- but, in actuality, that's just another way to be in control, isn't it? Just like carrying the blame balances the issue of control. If I was the cause - my fault, my responsibility, my shame - then I have the power to change that. I may not know how, and the event may continue (further seeding the same line of thought), but as soon as I can work out how, then I can make it stop. And that's some faulty thinking, right there.

Life, as we all know, doesn't work that way. Good things, bad things, indifferent things happen. Sometimes they are due to our own actions or inactions. Sometimes they are due to someone else's actions or inactions, and sometimes they just are. There's one thing that is consistent, though, and that is our ability to take responsibility for our emotions and behaviours in reaction to the situation. Maybe a good first step is for me to let go of the 'fault' judgement entirely. Just to forgo placing blame anywhere, accept that it is, and deal with it, whatever that 'it' is, the best way I can.

One thing is for sure, whatever happened in the past, and whatever happens in the future, there's a world of opportunities for growth in it all.



Today's cheer-leading statements:
I have the power and the ability to cope with whatever life throws my way.
My emotions are acceptable. However I feel is okay, even if I may not understand why I feel that way.
What I think about a situation is just my perspective, but that doesn't mean it isn't okay to think that way. (I'm not sure on this one, so if anyone can yea or nay it, I would appreciate that a lot!)
I am not a bad person. I have value and worth, just like everyone else.
The urge to give in to negative coping mechanisms is just an urge. It is my choice whether I listen to that urge, but choosing to do so will only make my long-term goals more difficult to achieve.


Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.