My Kind Of BPD

Is anybody else still out there? I'm still here, despite my fits and starts of disappearing. My laptop broke again, and I've been accessing the internet through my iPad and through a friend's laptop. My memory is no better, and so I forget about things that I usually keep tabbed (such as this blog, and Flight Rising, and Facebook...) when that happens.

Today I've been thinking about stigma, and how even those of us who fight it can still be vulnerable to it. In particular, I've been thinking about the stigma of Borderline Personality Disorder, and the ways in which I've bought into it without meaning to. Have you ever said, "I have BPD, but I'm not a typical Borderline", or something similar? I have, frequently. I seem to always be explaining to people that even though I have BPD, I'm not "that" kind of Borderline. Partly I want to be understood for the individual I am, rather than a stereotyped version of my disorder -- but mostly I'm trying to distance myself from everyone who is "that" kind of Borderline.

And every time I do that, I drive another nail into the stigma-coffin. Every time I say it, I may as well be screaming out that there is a "good" BPD and a "bad" BPD. There's not. There's just BPD, in varying degrees of intensity and with myriad presentations of symptoms. It's all the bad kind. It's all the good kind. It's all BPD.

Given that, maybe instead of rushing to defend myself by sticking that "bad" label on the people with different symptoms, I should quit telling people what my BPD isn't... and start talking about what my BPD is (bearing in mind, of course, that my comorbid disorders bleed into BPD and each other).

• My BPD is a lack of self stability that shows itself in an uncanny ability to unconsciously chameleon. By this, I mean that without intending to, I often change myself according to the people I'm around. This change will include everything from words and mannerisms to thoughts and even beliefs. It's never being sure of who I am, or if I really like the things I like. It's constantly wondering how others see me, and trying to create a self-view based around that, because it's the best I can do.
  
  
• My BPD is excessive self-monitoring and criticism. Everything I do comes under the deepest of scrutiny by my own mind. Was that too blunt, too subtle, too rude, too ineffective? Is that appropriate to do/say/ask? One thing is of particular concern since my diagnosis: "am I acting in a way that reinforces BPD stigma?"
  
  
• My BPD is interpersonal hypersensitivity. It's never knowing whether what I'm sensing from others is their stuff, or my own. It's misinterpreting others' emotions and needs as being my fault in almost every situation.
  
  
• My BPD is intense relationships. It's needing to be part of everything, to feel included. It's always following along, feeling like a sheep or a lost puppy. It's over-involvement in other peoples' lives until I think they're sick of me, whereupon it's backing off and hiding away.
  
  
• My BPD is a preoccupation with, and terror of, abandonment. It's weighing up constantly what I can say and do to not lose the people I love. It's always being the one to say sorry, to shoulder the weight of fixing anything that goes wrong. It's the unconscious chameleon behaviours to fit in, to belong. It's being afraid to eat in front of the people I care about until I've done it enough times to be sure I won't screw it up so badly they don't want to be around me. It's terror of my friends' friends, because there's a perception that the opinion of those peripherals will influence the opinion of the people I care about. It's needing to be part of everything, to feel included. It's being a doormat, because if I give everything I have and am, then people will maybe have reason to stay.
  
  
• My BPD is emotional hypersensitivy. It's feeling everything in an intense way - as though I'm the equivalent of a burn victim, my emotional skin gone and the nerves laid bare. It's knowing that people think I'm a drama queen because everything is so out of proportion, and still not being able to control or damp down that intensity. It's loving so strongly it wants to explode out of me, and it's hurting so deeply I can't bear the weight of my own heart.
  
  
• My BPD is difficulty recognising and managing my emotions. It's being so afraid of my own anger that I am only just beginning to feel it instead of automatically transmuting it to a different emotion. It's crying silently and fighting it the whole time, because it feels so wrong not to. It's fighting every emotion, trying to run and hide from them, and failing every time. It's being overwhelmed almost constantly because I don't even know for certain what I'm feeling.
  
  
• My BPD is an overabundance of anxiety and depression. It's everything I already covered under terror of abandonment & emotional hypersensitivy, and so much more besides. It's fear of being imperfect, fear of losing control. It's shame, and guilt, and the weight of clinical depression bearing down on my shoulders. It's fear of, and difficulty adjusting to, change.
  
  
• My BPD is impulsivity. It's acting in the moment, despite my intentions to follow a different plan. It's spending hours scrutinising myself, and then out of nowhere blurting out something utterly inappropriate. It's writing out a shopping list, then ignoring it and spending all my money on junk food and craft material instead. It's taking out something for dinner, then deciding at the last minute to eat something else, and doing it on a regular basis.
  
  
• My BPD is self destructive behaviours. Sometimes, it's suicide attempts because I don't want to be here anymore, because I'm done and I just want out. Most of the time, it's self harm, alcohol abuse, disordered eating. It's mixing uppers & downers because I know it messes with my body. It's over-eating, under-eating, and it's eating foods that will make me uncomfortable. It's giving up just when I get near to reaching my goals, and it's pressing on [emotional] sore spots. It's making decisions based on what will cause me the most amount of harm/pain, because all I really want to do is destroy myself.

My BPD is a disorder and a disability. It's not the good kind of BPD. It's not the bad kind of BPD. It's just my kind of BPD. What's your kind of BPD?

Even A Knife-Wielding Maniac Can Illustrate Growth

Yesterday, I went to an event held by Open Minds, and came home expecting everybody to be out. After I turned around and locked the door, without even having a cursory look around the room, I turned back to discover a "knife-wielding maniac" standing right in front of me.

Confronted with a similar situation a week ago, the 18yo daughter stood still and screamed. And darn near wet herself. I would have expected that to be my reaction as well. Instead I stood stock still with quite a surprised look on my face and just froze. Completely and utterly. And then my eyes adjusted, I saw who it was... and I laughed.

Since the "knife wielding maniac" was, in both instances, Bumface, I posted about the prank on Facebook as I internally processed all the positive things I had learned from it. Unfortunately, some of my friends seemed to feel that because they didn't find it amusing, I couldn't (or shouldn't?) have, either and I now have a lot to process around that.

But.. between the prank and the Facebook fall-out, I've learned and cemented a few new/emerging thoughts and truths for myself.


1. My eyes might be getting worse and I should probably have them tested. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even *see* the knife until after I recognised Bumface. :p

2. I have grown so much, emotionally, over the last year. I knew that, but this prank really illustrated to me just HOW much, and I'm so proud of that in myself.

3. Despite this growth, in an emergency situation, my instinct is still to freeze. This is probably not the best plan in most situations, so I need to practice forms of self defense (or at least fleeing!) enough that they become second nature as much as freezing.

4. Some of my actions when I believe I'm alone put me at risk. It is a good practice to be aware of my surroundings when I enter a room, to at least make a quick check that everything is in order. I don't mean a paranoid examination of every corner of the house, but a cursory check that there isn't a crazy man less than two feet from me is probably a smart move. ;)

5. I have a great deal of deep trust for Bumface. Not many people could stand in front of me, holding a knife, and still make me feel safe once I recognise them.

6. I don't believe in "if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all" - but I believe in something that (I feel) fits that grey a little better. "If you can't say something constructive, then you shouldn't say anything at all" because, let's face it, sometimes it's necessary to say something that isn't nice. If your best friend is dating an abusive jerk, you should probably tell her you can see that he's abusing her and you're there for her. Now, that's probably not the nicest thing to say -- but better to say it than let her think what he's doing is okay because everybody's seeing it and nobody's speaking up!

7. I don't need other peoples' approval as strongly as I used to. I am still deeply hurt by the disapproval and rejection I felt/feel about reactions I received to my post, but there is not so strong a sense of "well, maybe I did something wrong" - now it's a sense that I'm sad that people can't just be glad that I'm in a relationship that makes me happy, is good for me, and has allowed me to grow so much. Still, out of pond muck, lillies grow.


Most of all, I cemented that this relationship really HAS been very good for me over the past year. I didn't doubt it, but it is still nice to have solid confirmation of the ways in which he has helped me to grow. I only hope I've been as good for him as he has for me.

(And that I can come up with a damn good retaliation prank...)

Chrysalis Stirring

Dear world,

I've decided I'm worth more than the names people call me. I've decided I'm worth more than the names I call myself.

I've decided I'm worth more than the value attributed me when I agree with an unpopular opinion. I've decided I'm worth more than the value attributed me when I don't agree with someone who thinks I should.

I've decided I'm worth more than the way I'm treated when someone is hurtful towards me because they don't like me. I've decided I'm worth more than the way I'm treated when someone disrespects me because they don't like me. I've decided I'm worth more than the way I'm treated when someone acts hurtfully, even when I can find a reason to excuse it.

Most of all, I've begun to realise that I'm worth at least the basic respect owed to everyone else in this life, and I'm no longer going to settle for less in order to give more.

I know this will come as a surprise to some people, and I'll try to remember that and be gentle as people around me adjust to this new me who is emerging from a cocoon of self-censure.

I'll try to remember that and be gentle with both others and myself as I discover that some people won't like the new me, that previously good friends will struggle to come to terms with this person who no longer accepts what has always been the status quo.

I will remind myself of my own worth as I gently bow out of relationships that are no longer healthy or helpful for me, and I will endeavour to do so gracefully in as respectful and kind manner as I can, without letting go of my goal - to be true to myself, my goals the life that is mine to live.

And world, I will remember to be grateful, even to the people to whom I am letting go, and the people who don't want to treat me the way I now realise I deserve. I hope I will allow those people to fuel my desire to respect and be respected in turn.

Thank you,
Chrysalis.

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.

Black & White Can Be Sneaky

Sometimes unexpected discoveries pop up right in the middle of something else. Today my alcohol counsellor and I were discussing some of the things going on in my life at the moment, and in the midst of explaining my concerns over something nice someone had done for me, I came out with something very similar to "I'm worried because she annoys me sometimes, but she has done this really lovely thing for me. Now that she's done this, I'll feel guilty if I get annoyed."

Instead of agreeing with me, or testing me with what skills I can use to deal with the guilt, my counsellor looked at me for a moment and asked me what kind of thinking I was using. As she reminded me of what I know about thinking styles/patterns and how some are helpful & others aren't, the cacaphony of thoughts in my head ran something like:

Does this mean she thinks it's an unhelpful thought pattern? Why is it unhelpful? Of course I'll feel guilty if I get annoyed - I should! If someone does something nice to or for me, I owe them. Having any negative feeling around/about that person is clearly a sign that I'm not grateful enough. It would be extremely rude of me to be ungrateful after such a lovely thing was done for me. Knowing that doing that will make me a Bad Person makes these thoughts helpful because now I know I have to banish all traces of annoyance and override them with the more appropriate response of gratitude.

"I think it's helpful thinking," I answered her, and went on to repeat my thoughts on the matter. My counsellor paused and I could feel her gaze centre on me.

"Did you know," she began, "that if what you just said to me were true, we would ALL be in trouble? Even me!" I laughed and she added some more thoughts. "You've just told me that because someone has done something nice for you, feeling annoyed would make you a bad person and that if you feel annoyed it would mean that you are not grateful. Do you recognise anything about this thinking?"

Suddenly, it hits me. This is all-or-nothing thinking!

And it's been sneaking in and camping out unnoticed in a lot of places lately.

I don't know why it is, but for some reason, this style of black&white thinking still doesn't show up on my radar. I've got better, I think, at recognising that style in general, but it continues to elude me when it pertains to interpersonal skills.

I can't seem to find a better way to end this, but it's late and I need to start finishing up for the night. See you all later for Sanguine Saturday!



Cheerleading/challenges:
This is a good step and I can build on it.
It's okay to not be perfect.
Being offered something (or given something, or making a mistake, or loving somebody, or...) doesn't mean I have to give away all my rights.
Just because I can find a way to justify something as helpful doesn't mean it is.



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

Ten Things

It's taken all day, but this was so worth doing. On a forum I'm part of someone came up with the idea of putting together a list of ten things about ourselves that have nothing to do with our SA. I've taken it on board, and extended it to be 10 things not linked to my SA or the rest of the stuff in my past OR my mental illnesses. And, of course, in keeping with DD's theme, I've tried to keep them positive focused.


1. I love to wear odd socks, but I only like it if they are the same size & style and match in some way (eg, same pattern but different colours). This isn't because I want to stand out, or make a fashion statement, it's because I like variety and I enjoy wearing a coordinated rainbow.

2. Until I was in my early 20s I had never seen a giraffe (except in books/on TV). Seeing my first one made me fall so completely in love with them as a species that they are now my favourite animal beyond a doubt.

3. I love good poetry, it's like a warm sleeping bag I just want to climb inside and breathe in.

4. My higher power is love because I believe it's part of everything.

5. I like to use my imagination to create things, I have a strong streak of creativity that influences most things I do, and one of the ways I use it most is in crafts. I am not overly fussy about my medium but usually play at scrapbooking, card making, jewellery or the making of dream catchers.

6. I am a qualified childcare worker and I did that for five years before I had to leave the industry for a while. Despite everything, it was one of the best parts of my life and I hope to work with children again some day.

7. I have a very active sense of humour and I laugh a lot, generally even (perhaps even especially) when I'm having a hard time.

8. I love fantasy. I might be a grown up but I still believe in magic and faeries and I believe that even though they may not exist now, other so-called fantasy beings probably existed in some form.

9. I love deeply and well, with a lot of loyalty.

10. I like to look at things in a way that's a little out of the ordinary, and I like sharing that with people in the form of poetry or photography. I love taking photographs of unusual angles so much that I am willing to lie down under a bus seat in order to capture the beauty of a piece of broken glass glinting in the sun.


That was a lot harder than I expected, but I'm glad I did it. What are your ten things?

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

Stupid *Isn't* As Stupid Does

Intelligence/stupidity has been something that just keeps coming up for me, lately. I've had several conversations around the topic in the last couple of weeks, and they've all been really interesting with some big insights for me.

I've spent most of my life being told that I could do anything I wanted to do, be anything I wanted to be. I've also spent most of my life being told that I can't do anything, that I'm stupid and that I will never be good enough. Confusingly enough, many of the people giving me these messages were giving me both messages at the same time. Caught in my borderline black & white thinking, I interpreted this as "I am stupid" and "I will never be good enough" (with a side dose of messages such as "people will tell me I am smart so they feel better about the fact that I have nothing going for me"). Since I had an desperate need to please, I continued trying to prove that I could be smart for a long time. I continued trying to live up to the expectations that were in place, and I continued trying to prove that I could be good enough.

While I was still in this desperate to please state, I fell in love with a boy I considered very intelligent. He was charismatic, funny, good at numbers and figures, he knew a lot of things about a lot of things, and he was very sure of himself - so sure that every time I thought something was different to how he said, he would set about proving how wrong I was. I'm sure you all know where this is headed, but I didn't.

I started to have a breakdown. My doctor decided to remove me from my studies at University because I was too much of a suicide risk the way I was. It, at the time, fuelled the fire of self hate and doubt at my intelligence - how smart could I be if I had to be removed from Uni because I couldn't handle it?

The one good thing to come out of it was that since I had dropped out of Uni, most peoples' expectations on me disappeared. I was, more than ever, the family screw-up, but one they'd lost hope in. At least I'd married myself off and wouldn't need to leech off them...

By the time another year had passed, I had stopped trying to prove I was smart. What was the point? As far as I could tell, any intelligence I might once have had was long gone, probably had never existed at all. Eventually I even seemed to be actively trying to prove my lack of intelligence.

And by then, my view of myself as stupid had evolved into a many faceted thing. I was stupid because I couldn't think in the ways I used to be able to as a child. I was stupid because I wasn't good at numbers and figures. I was stupid because I had a poor memory. I was stupid because I'd made some unhealthy choices. I was stupid because I couldn't make connections I'd never been taught to make. I was stupid because I couldn't even finish University. I was stupid because I didn't get a better OP score in high school. I was stupid because I didn't think in the same ways as people I cared about thought in.

Not only that, but being 'stupid' filled some of my needs. Being stupid meant lower expectations on me. Being stupid meant I was humble. Being stupid meant I didn't get accused of getting above my station. Being stupid meant I wasn't a threat.

It got so that most people seemed to forget how smart I'd been. Many of the people in my life 'now' had never known the smart kid in school, which helped, and peoples' expectations of me were different. My best friend said to me the other day that nobody expected stupidity from me and that it wasn't how people thought of me - but she's only half right. A good proportion of people in my life really do think that I'm as thick as a couple of planks... but it's only because I've worked so hard to make them think that way.

I still remember saying something in DBT one day and the room went quiet. One woman, who hid behind her intelligence and rational thought as a form of avoidance, had the guts to say it: "Wow. You're actually really smart, aren't you? You hide it very well!"

Indeed, just the other day, in a chatroom I regularly visit, someone I've known as an acquaintance for years made the comment, "when did you get so wise?" and the truth is... I suppose I always have been. But I haven't been brave enough to let it show in years.

And, you know, for all that I've just outright admitted in this post that I am not so stupid after all, I still struggle to believe it most of the time. And as hard as it is to believe it, it's even harder to say it.

But guess what? I'm not stupid, and I'm really starting to show it again.


Challenge and cheer-leading statements:
All feelings are real and valid. All feelings will pass.
However I feel is okay.
Being different doesn't have to mean being wrong.


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

Midweek Musings: Trusting

Today, at the end of a long and difficult counselling session, Carol pulled out some Angels With Attitude cards and asked me to choose one or more. She gave me the option of looking through the deck in order to choose, but I decided to pull one at random. As she began to fan the deck out in front of me, I pulled one of the more exposed cards and turned it over.

"Trust", it said, and I laughed through my tears. What an appropriate card for me right now.

In spite of everything, I am generally a very trusting person. I am naive, innocent, gullible and I both believe and believe in people. I trust in the basic goodness of most people. I trust that most people don't do things for bad reasons. I typically believe what people tell me, provided I have not been given a compelling reason not to.

Some of that, I suspect, is a subconscious mask, and other parts probably come from a desire to be seen as perhaps less intelligent than I might truly be. This is part of who I have been and it is part of who I am.

There is, however, a deeper level of trust, and it is here I often fall down. I easily trust outward; I do not easily trust inward. I do not trust my own self - my responses, my thoughts, my intuitions or my beliefs. I do not trust that I will use the right skills at the right time. And this lack of inward trust does extend outward; because I do not trust that my responses or emotions might be valid and appropriate, because I do not trust that I have much value, I do not trust that others will see it in me indefinitely, either.

Tell me that you will be here, and I will believe that you believe that... but I will not trust that you will stick around. I still spend far more time than I am comfortable with 'knowing' that as much as you believe you aren't going anywhere, this could be the time I mess it up. This could be the time I say the wrong thing and you realise how much you are sick of having me in your life.

Frustratingly, this lack of trust is often cause and effect all by itself. And, as is the nature of things when one has no internal self trust I alternate between responses.

I hear "go away" when you say hi and I think you hate me, but I challenge what I have heard and seek reassurance. If you are not very clear when you say "go away", I will hear "go away" and think you hate me, but I will challenge what I have heard and convince myself it's all in my head. Sometimes I get it right and I even respond accordingly, but more often I do not. I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be for those on the receiving end of both wrong-answer scenarios.

To constantly reassure me must be terribly annoying. To constantly be trying to get a message across to me when I keep telling myself you're sending a different one, equally so. How can I blame anyone for getting tired of this endless battle? I cannot; I do not.

I need to learn how to trust myself, because until I understand which thoughts to trust and listen to; how to balance checking in with others and understanding that I am not responsible for, or at fault in, every situation and interaction I have, until I can learn and understand that... I will always live in fear and sadness and anticipation that this is the day you walk away.

And in the meantime, I need to draw on those other layers of trust that I do have, that I can rely on. I need to trust in that basic goodness that I believe is in most people, because I'm going to need it over the next few weeks. I need to trust that if people have a problem with me, they will tell me. I need to allow myself to trust those safe people in my life as much as I can, because if I don't, I am going to lose everything I have worked so hard to gain and be.


Cheerleading/Challenge Statements:
It's okay to trust that my friends will tell me clearly if they don't want me around.
I have the skills and the ability to live through everything that comes my way - whether it comes by chance or invitation.
I have the right to look after my needs and wants.


Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way. And of course, don't forget to blog your own version of Sanguine Saturday sometime this week and let me know so I can link you next Saturday! ;)

Conquering The Need To Please

Anybody who knows me at all, knows that I am, possibly above all other things, a people-pleaser. As a child, it was a necessary part of my survival - as an adult, it was, I believed, the only way I would ever be liked, let alone loved. So for a long time all of my value came from having others like me, from doing and being everything everyone else wanted me to be. I was a chameleon and I wore whatever skin I thought the other person wanted to see.

If (I thought) you wanted someone to listen, that's what I'd do. If (I thought) you wanted comfort, that's what I'd give. If (I thought) you wanted advice, I'd offer it. If (I thought) you wanted to hear you were wonderful, that's what I'd say. Everything came second to that need to please - everything. I would stay up all night to support an acquaintance; give money away to anybody who asked, if they said they needed it; drop everything for everyone.

And it worked. I had a knack for it. I was good at being what everyone else wanted me to be - too good. Somewhere in all of that, I lost who I was. I lost who I wanted me to be. I lost my substance, and all that was left was the need to please everybody else. And I was fine with that because, you see, most people did like me... to a point.

People loved that I would do anything for them. They valued that I would value them so much... but they, for the most part, didn't have a lot of respect for me. Why should they, when I so clearly had no respect for myself?

2008 was the beginning of a turning point. In 2008 I came face to face with the concept that although most (real life) people "liked" me, nobody actually particularly cared about or for me. I was everybody's friend, but nobody counted me as theirs; as far as they were concerned, I was a hanger-on, an amiable and pleasant caricature, but I was not and had never been, any more than that.

Even after I recognised that, though, I didn't connect the dots. I couldn't understand how everybody could like me so much and not actually like me. (If you're confused, perhaps thinking of it as the difference between an acquaintance and a friend may help.)

And even when I did connect the dots, when I finally made the link, I was too afraid to do anything about it. My entire worth as a person hung on whether others liked me; if I started trying to worry about how I felt about things, everyone would see that there was nothing worth liking in me. So I didn't change much. By this stage I'd agreed to do DBT because that was (I thought) what my case manager had wanted for me. I stayed because (I thought) that was what the group coordinator had wanted.

I dropped everything when (I thought) somebody wanted me to or believed they needed me to. Even as I recognised the re-emergence of my self, my needs, my wants... I put them aside for others. And generally not selectively, either; there was a level of hierarchy, but for the most part, anyone who (I thought) wanted something, got it.

And then... something changed. I don't know if it was gradual, sneaking up on me, or if it was fairly sudden, but I do know that something has changed.

I've started to speak out. I don't just tell people what (I think) they want to hear, these days. I tell the truth as I see it - I try to be compassionate and diplomatic about it, but I'm still learning how to balance that with being true to myself. I'm still learning what it means to have a self to be true to.

I'm interested in helping people, in offering more than a virtual snuggle; I want to challenge people because we cannot grow without challenge. I'm not interested in walking on eggshells for the rest of my life. I'm not interested anymore in putting aside everything I need, everything I want, everything I am, to please somebody else.

Unsurprisingly, I'm less liked now.

Surprisingly, I don't mind nearly as much as I thought I would. It still hurts a lot, and it's very hard, still, to say no to my desire to please someone else. I don't always choose to do it, even when I know I 'should'. It's a learning curve, and this is just the beginning of another journey.

I used to think the world would end if I upset others, if I put myself first, if I failed to please someone...

Let me tell you, the world hasn't ended.

Yes, I'm less 'popular' now, but I feel, in some ways, like I am much more loved. People I truly admire -- people who are imperfect but never give up; who are good, kind, thoughtful people who have learned or are learning to respect themselves and put themselves first sometimes; who understand the value of change and challenge; who aren't afraid to give and take -- have noticed the change in me, in a good way. I feel like I have earned something much more valuable to me than mass outward approval - I feel that I have earned, dare I say it?, the respect of people I look up to. And I have earned something else, somehow, too, because I discovered something when I realised how much I have changed.

Not only would I would much rather have the respect and love of five* of those people than be universally liked; I'd rather respect myself than be universally liked, too.

*(I just wanted to put a number here and since I prefer numbers to be in multiples of 5...)



Cheer-leading / Challenge Statements:
It's okay to be proud of myself.
I don't have to be perfect.
I'm an okay person, and choosing to look after myself and my needs first doesn't change that.
I'm not responsible for other peoples' emotions.



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

Trusting My Intuition

Intuition. Going with your gut. I wonder if that's a concept that others with Borderline Personality Disorder commonly struggle with, as well. I can see how it could be tied into various aspects of living with BPD; the lack of belief and trust in yourself, the lack of (knowledge of) a self to trust in... I can see that.

If you'll forgive my segue into something that may (at this point) seem completely unrelated, I remember once reading that people who have Borderline Personality Disorder are particularly sensitive to the moods of others. By that, I hasten to add, I don't mean in terms of the well known Borderline hypersensitivity to rejection; rather, in terms of recognising general emotions in others, and being able to identify when others are being false about their emotions. I wish I could find that article again because it was fairly interesting, even if, at the time, I disagreed with a lot of what was said. I mention it now because a recent situation in my life has given me cause to really ponder some of the ideas behind that.

You see, when I came back from Canberra, I sensed that things in my circle of friends weren't 'right'. Something felt off. I told myself that I was just being paranoid; that I was misinterpreting the situation and that I was being silly.

My friends started doing more and more things without me; things we had previously done together. I felt excluded, but I told myself that it was just that they had made the plans when I wasn't there, and just hadn't thought to let me know/invite me; or that they were preparing for my intended move; or that they were giving me time and space to prepare for the move.

When we did hang out, I felt waves of dislike coming from my friends, and especially from one friend in particular. I told myself over and over again that I was just projecting my own dislike for myself onto my friends. I told myself that they wouldn't invite me to hang out with them if they didn't like me, if they didn't want me there. I tried to talk over the top of the little voice in my head that suggested that maybe I was right, maybe something really was wrong in these friendships.

I spent three months in this daily fight with myself, trying to drown out that "unhelpful voice" that was telling me that something wasn't right. I wasted three months. Eventually, something happened and a conversation occurred between one of my friends and I. I told her how I had been feeling, she told me what had been going on. It turns out, you see, that I wasn't just paranoid. My initial thought, my recognition that something wasn't right, turned out to be spot on. Something really had been going on in my friendships, and I had wasted three months telling myself that my recognition of that was wrong, that it was the unhealthy and unhelpful voice of paranoia.

Things with some of that group of friends are back on track, now. They're not back where they used to be, but I'm more okay with how things are. That first friend I talked to, she apologised. I apologised. There were a lot of miscommunications; a lot of misunderstandings and, yes, plenty of mistakes... on both sides of the coin. And the day we started to talk about it, we both began to heal those wounds. It was not an easy day for either of us; but (and I speak here for myself, only, I cannot say whether these words ring true for any other people) I think it was certainly a worthwhile one.

I wouldn't wish for it to happen again, but there was value in that experience. I learned some very important things that I would not otherwise have learned yet.

Not only did I re-learn the importance of honesty and clear communication in my friendships, but I learned that my "unhealthy voice of paranoia" is my own intuition; insistent but unpracticed and generally unrecognised. I learned the importance of trusting that intuition and of acting on that in responsible ways.

I also learned that maybe there is something to the idea that, as someone with BPD, I might be more sensitive to mood changes in others. It makes sense, after all. As a child, my survival depended on being able to judge a situation or a person's mood, it makes sense that as an adult, I am still able to tap into that skill; however unintentionally or subconsciously I do it.

The trick, then, in understanding how such a concept might work, came in recognising for the first time that being able to detect changes in another person's mood, means just that. It doesn't mean I'll get it right every time; it doesn't mean there won't be misunderstandings. In fact, it is probably this sensitivity that leads to those misunderstandings, such as in the following scenario:

We are walking together and as we walk, we chatter. Suddenly, you see a car go past that reminds you of your ex-husband's car. Your mood drops.

I notice that your mood has changed, but I might decide that it's because I've said the wrong thing, or that you are wondering why you hang out with a loser like me. My intuition has recognised that change ... but my disordered thinking has misinterpreted the facts.

I can trust my intuition! It's necessary to remember not to blindly act on the specifics of it, but if I sense something change, if it's important, it's okay to trust my intuition and check in with the other person! In fact, it's more than important, it's downright essential.


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

Choosing To Recognise Achievements

By chance, I ran into an old primary school friend this morning. We lost contact when I moved to my father's place and although we're facebook friends, we haven't actually talked in about 15 years. She hasn't changed much at all since I knew her, she is still the same down to earth person she was back then. She is extremely easy to talk to, and I found myself admitting to not having worked for a year and a half as well as to my various diagnosis' and so forth.

One of the most interesting things I found about our interaction was that she told me that I was far too hard on myself.

I am fascinated because I felt that I was actually, though honest, quite kind in the way I spoke of myself today. It really highlighted to me how far I have come, as well as how far I still have to go. For a start, it wasn't until I was reflecting on the interaction that I realised that, had I been speaking of someone else, I would never have said the sort of things I said about myself.

First example off the bat, she asked if I was going to go to my reunion this year and I told her that I wasn't sure yet. "What are your reasons for the hesitation?"
"I haven't achieved anything."

That is why I hesitate to commit fully, because that is what I believe about myself. I'm not sure I want to show up with nothing but a string of failures to show of my life since high school... but that's complete bullocks, really, isn't it? I have achieved something. I'm still alive!

Maybe I don't have a car, or a good job (or even a job, to be fair), or the husband-children-white picket fence... but I'm still alive. I have survived what I'm beginning to recognise as a fairly extensive amount of childhood abuse of all types. I have survived mental illness, discrimination, miscarriage, spousal abuse, divorce, the deaths of several people dear to me. I have survived an alcohol dependency. I have survived.

And I haven't just survived. I have achieved other things that may not be current, but are no less real for that. I have worked for five years at a job that I loved. I have studied and received a Certificate III at the end of my efforts. I have been to Sydney, Melbourne, Rockhampton, Bundaberg, Vanuatu and Fiji (and by the time of the reunion, Canberra will also be on that list). I have won competitions for my writing, I have won money in a photography competition. I have had my photographs on display at the Royal Brisbane Exhibition.

Why is that not enough for myself? My friend was right when she said, "I'm sure you have achieved things", but I couldn't see it.

It's time to start recognising that simply surviving is an achievement, and it's time to start congratulating myself for that. I didn't have to survive - I chose to. And I'm going to keep choosing to survive, and I'm going to rebuild my life until I get to a place that is healthy. A place where I am healthy and where I can find happiness, peace and contentment.



Cheerleading and Challenge Statements:
How wonderful will it be to ring Kelly and say, "it's been two months since I self harmed"? Hold onto that.
Whatever I feel is okay. I don't need to judge myself for my emotions.
Maybe I'm not just not a bad person - maybe I really am an okay person!
I can't change the past but I can change the present, and I can work towards a better future.
Ruminating and worrying won't change the way things are. All I can do is accept events/feelings/thoughts and deal with them as best I can when life happens.



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

The Power Of Words

Everything about me seems to contradict itself at the moment. I'm restless, agitated... but I feel so exhausted, so heavy and slow. I feel like I'm two people all the time. It's not awful, I'm not suffering terribly or anything like that, but it is very uncomfortable. It may be a side effect of starting the Lexapro or it may be unrelated.. at this stage, the cause doesn't matter (because it's not appropriate to try and fix it just yet). I'm learning to TOLERATE my discomfit, and that's important.

A few days ago, at my appointment with Carol, I handed over a couple of poems and blog posts I had printed for her. One of the posts was the one I wrote about perhaps exploring my memories and the other was the post I wrote as I recognised that my child-self was an actual child. While she read the older one, Carol reached for the tissues. "Oh, [dawni]," she said. Just that, twice. "Oh, [dawni]". She wiped at her eyes and finished reading before we discussed what was written. I, naturally, couldn't remember much of what was written, because I tend to dissociate myself somewhat from my own expressions. (Actually, I suspect I might sound somewhat snobbish or pretentious when I write, and so I am very anxious about the idea of someone reading it and thinking of me in that way.) In the end, Carol read the entry aloud. I forgot the words I had used. I hadn't realised the power my own words held.

I don't know if my words hold as much power for others, but that session strengthened my resolve to write my story. I started some time ago, small snippets, but I allowed the project to fall by the wayside. "Why", I kept asking myself, "would anyone be interested?" It wasn't until this week that I realised, really realised, that it doesn't matter if nobody else is interested. I want to write my story for myself. It will be hard, and it will take me a long time, but there is so much I can gain from 'speaking' my story.



Cheerleading and Challenge Statements:
Everything I feel right now is okay, but what I choose to do about those feelings is up to me.
I am not a bad person.
If I can put my stuff aside in order to help someone I care about, then I can put my stuff aside in order to help myself in the long term, too.
It's okay to feel unsettled. I can tolerate that, and eventually it will ease.
I have the knowledge, the ability, the skills, to cope with anything that comes my way.



I'll see you tomorrow for Sanguine Saturday. Until then, take care of yourselves, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

The Butterfly Does Not Make The Caterpillar A Lie

Today I made a discovery. In all my years in and out of therapy, in all my time spent working on "this, that or the other" issue, something went unseen, unrecognised and uncorrected. Let me back up a few steps with a story that is fairly vivid in my mind. It's not an especially distressing memory, nor is it particularly unusual for my life, but for some reason, it's something that has remained quite clear.

I am thirteen years old, it's just after school and I've missed my bus. I know my stepmother's going to be angry with me, but I haven't any other choice, so I walk to the office and I call her. That conversation is lost to the 27 year old I am now, but I do remember knowing she wasn't happy she'd have to fetch me. She doesn't ask why I have missed the bus and I don't volunteer. By the time we are home and she wants to know, I cannot for the life of me remember. This is nothing unusual as I often forget things or share things that don't "tally" with what someone else thinks has happened. I am used to it, as is my stepmother. Unfortunately, as much as she is used to it, she despises it. She fires questions at me, shoots accusations that are baseless and unlikely: I didn't forget, I had a detention and didn't want to admit to it. I was down the back kissing a boy. I was in a fist fight. I was redoing an exam. I was caught breaking school rules and having a chat to the principal. In the midst of these accusations, I suddenly remember what I had been doing, why I had missed the bus. A friend who had been having a hard time had asked me for support in doing something. We'd both expected I had plenty of time, but over or under estimated somewhere. Why I couldn't remember this earlier, I don't know. But I did remember it now, and as my stepmother threw her ideas of where I'd been at me, I tell her it wasn't any of those things. Her lip twists into a sneer and she tells me I wouldn't know, since I can't remember, and I tell her, "I do remember, now" and she doesn't believe me. She tells me that I can't 'not remember' before and remember now.

I learn that if the situation changes, the past is a lie.

That is not the first time I received that message, and it wasn't the last, and in 27 years, nobody's ever thought to tell me any different. I didn't challenge it because I didn't see it as anything but simple fact... until today.

Just as the butterfly who emerges from her cocoon does not make the caterpillar a lie in fact, nor does it do so in metaphor. If who I am changes, if I adjust my coping mechanisms; if I move beyond my past, that does not make the past a lie. Future change does not make now-me a lie or a liar!

I can use this on so many levels.



Today's cheer-leading statements:
I don't have to take on my family's judgements about me.
I am not a bad person.
Change does not make the past a lie!
Avoidance doesn't make the problem go away.
I have the tools and the strength to handle anything that comes my way.



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

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.