Defective

Remember this exact moment when it comes to worrying about taking time off work for your treatment.

Remember it well because it's what's going to get you through.

Remember this pain you are feeling at being a failed mother.

Remember how much you want to self harm to punish yourself, to try and get these horrible emotions to go away and remember how much you are having to fight the urge.

Remember getting into bed an hour ago, only to get up crying and sobbing your heart out at 1:30am.

Remember how much you want to get better for your daughter.

Remember this feeling of desperation and self hatred and how much you want it to go away.

I cannot live like this anymore. I cannot.

Years ago, I predicted my suicide would happen at the age of 25. I am now 25. It will be the same year that I get treatment. I remember saying it, I remember the emotions I was experiencing... I was going crazy and I knew and said that it wouldn't get better if I didn't get help. The help that I so fucking wanted but fought to get. I knew it wasn't just depression and anxiety that I had. I knew it was more than that. But they fed me antidepressants that I constantly complained about because they didn't help. I always knew it was at the core of me but nobody listened.

I truly do ask myself: would she be better off without me in her life?

I always think about it but more so since I was diagnosed and recently somebody commented on it and I just haven't been able to brush it off. It has stuck. Like the devil at the back of my head, willing me to fail. Is that what people think of me as a mother? But how do they know? They are not with us day in, day out?

And to be fair, that is the only negative comment I've ever got about being a mother - every other single one has been praise... yet, I've grabbed onto this negative judgement and I can't let go. If someone defines me like that, then it must be true. I don't believe people when they say I am "good", I do not absorb their praise. I do not love myself so how could that be true? The "bad" on the other hand... that must be true. I know I am defective, I just don't need people pointing it out. I am trying to get better. I know my faults.

I'm just crying, crying, crying... if I could scream right now then I would. But I won't and I never have - I have a daughter who is sleeping.

She is better off without this defect of a person trying to raise her.

I am nothing.

The Bernard Bert

Am I doomed?

I don't feel very good.

I want to hunch over into a ball and hide under the table.

I woke up feeling emotional and troubled and now I can't brush it. The feelings followed me through the night until the moment I had to force myself out of bed.

Got to keep on a mask so my daughter doesn't know. Probably one of the most exhausting things.

I felt awful this morning when I woke up late and she started crying. I went to find her upstairs and she said she felt sad but didn't want to tell me why because she didn't want me to feel bad.

You don't ever want to to hear your child say that, especially at seven years old.

She finally told me... it was because it was Easter and that I had gone out to see a friend last night and woke up late and she felt jealous.

I found a ripped up card that she had made me for Easter hiding somewhere on the sofa.

I reassured her it was okay to feel jealous and mad but I'm glad she spoke to me about it and that we will work together to try and make that better.

It was really difficult dealing with the situation considering my unstable emotional distress right now. But I did it.

I love her more than anything in the entire world.

Seven more hours until I can crumble and cry. Countdown begins.

The Bernard Bert

X

I went out drinking last night. Was extremely apprehensive about doing it but wanted to try and have a good time. When I have known that I was going out before I've always been aware that the alcohol will only make my mood go down the next day, to a point of depression. I always managed to brush it off and tell myself "Ah well, we'll deal with it later". But, this was the first time I had been out having all this power of knowledge about the disorder and I got scared and really nervous.

Then I found out that the friend of the guy I was doing whatever with at work knew about us and it bummed me out (as I don't really know what to label this guy - he is neither an ex nor a friend nor a lover - I shall call him X... how creative...)  1. because I had been lied to as I had asked X if his friend knew and then I started questioning myself and feeling paranoid 2. because I didn't trust my gut - I would catch his friend weirdly looking at me when X was around amongst other things and 3. because I am now worried that his friend has told other people at work.

Now, this brings up a whole heap of shit/chaos in my head and it all links back to having a weak sense of self and worrying what other people think of me. I'm getting better at not giving a shit... but it is still there. When I compare myself to how I was back in September, I have come a long way; I am somewhat more in control of my thoughts. I would have been going crazy with worry back then to the point of feeling so damn 'down' and wanting to run. But now, although I am worried that other people may know and judge me, the idea that these people actually don't mean shit to me, nor do their opinions of me is starting to sit more easily. It is still a very unsettling thought that people may gossip about my personal shit but actually I go into work to work and if I make friends along the way then that is a bonus, but I'm there to do a job, not to make friends with these people. They can think just what they like because these people don't have to live my life.

I don't like being lied to because I think I deserve better but I understand why X chose to say otherwise. If I knew, it wouldn't have achieved anything, no one would've benefited from it. His friend said that he "just needed to unload some shit... get some stuff off of his chest" and now it's bugging me because I don't know exactly what was said... whether he was bad mouthing me... calling me crazy like people have done before... I suppose the question I have to ask myself is does it really matter? Probably not.

With the disorder, I have such a weak sense of self that I feel I don't have an identity so I give everyone else but myself the power to label me... to give me an identity... a sense of being... and when that idea is that I may be painted as a 'bad person' I feel that it must be true because what other identity do I have to hold on to? None. I let other people define me because at the moment I cannot define myself. I try, but my sense of self is distorted.. unsettled.. at times non existent.. contradictory.. inconsistent.. unstable.

I will get there. I can feel it.

I contacted X for the first time in a long time because I wanted to see how he was and I guess I wanted to know what he had to say for himself for telling his friend. But then I realised that actually it didn't matter and that it was between them; he is no longer part of my life so his friend knowing or not knowing doesn't change anything. I didn't get a response. I thought I would. It generated some negative feelings but I have to say - and this is how I know I am making progress - they were not nearly as intense as they were six weeks ago if the same thing had happened where I was ignored. I do feel invalidated but less intense.

"I know it is harsh but the reality is is that you are nobody to him. But, just because you are nobody to him, it doesn't mean you are a nobody".

I don't need him to define who I am. I have subconsciously spent far too long putting my life in other people's unwilling hands in hope they could tell me who I was because I couldn't.

X was right and I think I always knew that but denied it because I didn't know how to deal with; I was looking for something in him but he was not it. I was looking for someone to pick me up off of the ground, to understand me, to love me because I couldn't. I didn't know back then that it was me who had to pick myself off of the ground, it was me who needed to understand myself and it was me who needed to love me. It doesn't mean that my feelings for him aren't genuine because I care about him a great deal and I wouldn't want any harm to come him... I have a lot of love to give... but I need to turn that love inward first.

I'm feeling frustrated, invalid to him, hurt and slightly angry right now because I haven't gotten a response. It digs up unwanted feelings or shame, but that is for another time.

It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.

 We are our own worst enemy.

The Bernard Bert

Edit: I just tried ringing. I was going to send another message then thought "Hold on, you want to talk to him, just pick up the phone, stop beating around the bush". So I did and he didn't answer but then he called back. Was a very difficult conversation for the simple fact we had nothing to say. We spoke about the above and he said he never told his friend and that if his friend knew then everyone knows (because he is a gossip). Then he slightly blamed me because I told some friends but I know they would never say anything to anyone.

But as I said (and I am actually starting to believe it) - their opinion of me or him or whatever they want to say about the "situation" DOES NOT MATTER. 

I actually have a smile on my face.

Skeletor

Just to avoid any confusion for my fellow just-as-backwards-as-me friend:

Love right there.

It's strange how one word can evoke so many memories.

The Bernard Bert

It's only Tuesday?

The highlight of my day was accidentally walking in on my crush taking a piss.

You know when you see each other, just stare and time slows down and not because there is any sort of connection! But because you've just realised: "OH FUCK. I'm staring at him. He's staring at me. I am staring at him taking a piss. Quick shut the door. SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR. Oh shit, time is passing. Say something! ANYTHING!" Pretty much like Ross in friends when he comes on to his cousin...

Ross (thinking after just trying to kiss his cousin): Say something clever. Okay, doesn't have to be clever, it just has to be words. Any words will do. Oh my god! This is the longest that anyone has not talked, ever! There is nothing you can say to make this worse! So just say something! 

Ross (aloud): I haven't had sex in a very long time.

Ross (thinking): Yeah, you really shouldn't have said anything.

Made me laugh like a crazy woman all day. It's the little things in life.

The Bernard Bert

The Other Side

That feels a little better. I always beat myself up because I'm not the best at drawing. But hey ho. We can't be good at everything. I don't think... (self reassurance that in fact I cannot be good at everything). I have some books on drawing that I ordered a while ago. Will be spending part of my half term break living and breathing them...

Skeletor has returned. 

It is not finished but it will do for now. I'm tired. Or maybe I'll just leave it as it is. Spontaneous reflection of my emotions at this precise moment.

The Bernard Bert

Hold Your Breath

Hmm... I'm not really sure what to write. I just know that I want to write.

I haven't been feeling "ok" these past few days. I'm not sure why. I think it might be due to the fact that I am getting ill. Yay.

I woke up feeling very anxious today and I couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe because I was doing some hardcore reading on the disorder last night and making notes and continued at every opportune moment today. It made me anxious because... maybe because it's all hitting home... I don't know. It's a book my ex bought to "help him cope better" (I say that in quotes because it makes me mad and I can't be bothered to go into detail as to why) and reading it has shed some light onto myself - ways in which to explain my behaviours and feelings that I have never been able to do. I am making notes for him in the book, but y'know what, if I've got to make notes then really, he is never going to understand. It will always be a question of him asking himself: "Am I doing things right?" I can't be dealing with that shit. Just grow some balls and do it. Then I feel the guilt of thinking that. Looks like I'm getting to some of the root as to why I am feeling, well, blah.

I hate being in the middle of feeling something and nothing. It's like you're stuck in limbo for a while, wondering whether you're going to climb up or sink right down. The not knowing. If I felt good I would feel something. If I felt empty at least it would still be a feeling. But right now, I don't have a feeling; just waiting at the top of the rollercoaster, holding my breathe in anticipation of dropping back or going forward. Time will reveal all.

I wonder when things will be "ok" with me, where I can say "Yea, today was ok and I am ok" and then being able to feel ok with being ok... feeling comfortable with the absence of drama.

Of late, I have been here thinking what it's going to be like when I get better. It's as if I have this distorted image of me becoming this perfect person - finding a complete cure for this illness. I fail to see that this is not the reality. I will come to accept the idea that I will never be "cured". But I do often wonder what life would be like without the moods and the anger and the irritability and the chaos running through my head 24 hours a day.

Aaah.

I do hope that is possible because I so desperately want to be free of that. I want to be at peace with myself and I want to be the one to give it to me. I am sure that is possible: finding my identity after a whole life living as if I am somebody else or even worse, nobody. I am certain that I can find some sort of peace. I know things will never fully go away - it is part of me, imprinted - but I hold the thought close to my heart that I will cope better... I will be more at peace with myself, with others and with the world.

I think that is what Mentalized Based Treatment is all about. Finding your core. Finding you. Finding your sense of self. And then what follows is that life will become less strenuous for you.. you can cope better with it... you can almost be happy... (An underlying worry is about work and the treatment... another time...)

I so want to get better. I wonder what life would be like without this disorder. Just this moment, that hit me; I have an illness. It's a real thing. I wonder what it is like for an emotionally matured person to experience the world. I wonder. I long for but I guess I'll never know.

This is going to be part of me forever. I'm always going to have this. I cannot be cured. I don't like this person but I have no choice but to try and accept her. I want to shut her off, tell her to go away, tell her to change, tell her to just do one because I don't like her one little bit. But hey, I've got to live with her.

I've got to love myself.

I hope that one day I can learn to love and accept myself. Hating yourself is such a tiring game.

I guess that's what lies at the bottom of it all; you don't hate anyone but yourself with every fibre in your body.

The Bernard Bert

26

An insight into depression taking over and when you are living with Borderline Personality Disorder and never knew...

26/12/10

I just want to lie on the floor and stare into thin air. Furthermore, I want to lie on the bare ground, outside where it is cold and let the ice freeze my body until I am numb. But, I must write. I must force myself to type away when all I want to do is wallow in self pity. I have to because I have to learn from this. I must if I want to live for my daughter. I have been here so many times before. Countless times I have felt this empty hole in the pit of my stomach. Endless number of times I have cried and cried, not knowing when the tears will stop. There must be a way out. Surely. I can’t die. No matter how much I want to and believe me, I don’t think there is a day that goes by without wishing what it would be like if I died. But, I have to live for my daughter. I have to trudge through. I owe her a happy life. I brought her into this world. I can’t fail her. I wish I never brought her into this awful place. I really wish. She deserves much more than this pain and torture of this world.

I can’t tell you how it feels. There are no words to describe it. I try, but the words just don’t even come close to how it actually feels. No one will understand unless they have experienced this hell. But even then the experience is different. We are all alone. All alone with our thoughts. What complex and deranged human beings we are.

Just a moment a go, I was in the bathroom punching myself. I used to do that. You get caught up in a moment of madness and you crumble. You snap. It doesn’t even hurt. If it does, the pain feels good because you deserve to be punished. That’s how it feels; like you’re guilty of all of this. You must have done something wrong.

I believe I am crazy and that I am slowly but surely going to snap. I can’t remember when the depression first began but over the years it’s like it’s changed me into this person that cannot run away. Nothing feels real. I don’t believe I’m here. And if I’m here, I swear somebody is laughing at my expense. It’s such a complex place, how can it make sense? What is the fucking point? It makes me so angry. What is the fucking point in anything. We’re all going to fucking die. Why did my mother bring me into this world?

I sit here typing and my eyes won’t stop filling up. It’s like when the depression takes over I become a crazy person. I want to collapse. I want to fall onto the floor. It feels like I’m crumbling into little pieces, just breaking apart, my face falling off. Empty.

I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING BE HERE.

I want to cut my head off.

So much pain. I can’t explain the pain. It just hurts. It’s like a loss. Like you’re grieving. A darkness. So fucking dark. Like the world around you is empty and dark and there isn’t another soul in the world. Just you. Left all alone. Lost. Hopeless. Desperate.

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I'm posting these because it helps me realise how far I've come. 

It's time to give myself the credit I deserve.

The Bernard Bert

Too Long Just Getting By

I was going to write then thought I would transfer some shit from my old laptop to my current one... and I found lots of writing... this all makes sense now. Nearly FOUR years ago. 

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16.07.09

Oh how I love to put off writing. I don’t know why when I love it so much. I guess it’s just the thought of trying to get the cogs in my brain to stop for just a second just so I can actually hear, clearly, what’s going on in there.

Earlier today I was in such a state. I don’t know if I’m just fitting my symptoms to a mental illness just so I don’t feel as lost or whether I actually have it. I am now considering bipolar disorder.. I don’t know whether I have it or not. I have so much anger, which turns into rage, rage that I cannot help but take out on my daughter. And, that, I know, is very bad and believe me I feel immense guilt. She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves a loving mum who doesn’t get angry over the slightest little thing. Who doesn't shout at her for nothing. She’s only a kid and she’s learning and I can’t help but feel I am standing in the way of that. The last thing I want is her to turn out like me. I want her to have a happy life, I mean what parent doesn’t? I just don’t want her living a life like mine, where everything is a struggle. I hope it doesn’t run in the genes..

I had to call my mum at work today because I couldn’t take anymore. I was trying to avoid calling my mum and asking for help. I hate asking for help. I hate feeling weak and vulnerable. They know this all too well; I will call my mum, my sister will have my daughter for a few days and then things will go back to ‘normal’. Pft. What is normal?

I had let the feelings of loss build up inside me. The feeling of frustration and anger with the world, and most of all, myself. That burning hatred turning inward will only destroy you and rip you apart. That’s scary. A ‘darkness’ is one way I can describe it, a deep black hole and you’re just laying there, crumpled, at the bottom. You can’t see a way out. People always talk about this light at the end of tunnel. What fucking light? Show me the fucking light! Well, having said that, I guess that light comes from within. But how do you let it shine when you have this unbelievable and overwhelming feeling inside of you, one that is leaving it’s mark? I always wonder how I keep trudging on. Will I ever give up? The thought of giving into the darkness sends me into a frenzy.

Screaming helps. I always wonder whether I’m screaming at myself, or the world, or just screaming for help.. Sometimes I feel like a lost cause. I have been suffering with this depression or whatever it is for years, actually for the most part of my life. There aren’t any happy memories from my childhood, my teenage years or my life as a young adult. I suspect there probably is, but are overshadowed my these dark feelings.

When I was crying today, it was that empty feeling that got me the most. The only way I can describe it is when you are hurt, I mean emotionally hurt, like a break up with someone.. That knot in your stomach, that chokes you up when you try to speak.. The feeling of a big gaping hole in the pit of your stomach. I wonder what that is. I wonder what goes on inside my body to make that feeling.. I know it makes you hold your stomach and curl up into a ball halfway up the stairs.

I get fed up with life. I don’t deal with things very well, I’m the first to admit that. I’m trying to change things. I always beat myself up for falling (by falling I mean spiralling back into that deep, dark hole), the guilt pushing me down further. I mean, am I always going to be like this? I knew it was coming, I could feel it.. screaming inside to make it’s appearance. I don’t know whether I was just trying to suppress it or fight it. That’s all I ever seem to be doing: fighting. Fighting for my life. Yeah, it sounds pathetic, cheesy, whatever.. but that’s how it feels. Everyday is a new day, yes, but what will this one hold I ask myself? What am I fighting? Myself. I smirk as I write this because of the truth that this statements bears. I’m fighting to regain my right to live, my right to be a human being, my right to be sane. Everyday I have to fight something, whether it be the intrusive thoughts, the panic attacks, the sheer thought of stepping out of the house. It’s weird when I say that…should I really be fighting? I mean fighting it off.. Isn’t it just the same as suppressing everything? Shouldn’t the right thing to say be dealing?

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NOTE: This was never meant to be seen by anyone. It was my form of diary. I fear that posting this will make the people who actually know me think bad of me regarding me as a mother (defence mechanisms coming up because I feel so damn uncomfortable with the thought of people judging me, making assumptions, thinking I'm a bad person... just want to point out I NEVER hurt my daughter. Ever.)

I've come back a million times since I posted this and made another edit with the note. This is what happens. I can't just let things be and let people think what they like about me.

A weak sense of self.

The Bernard Bert

Rachel Getting Married

I watched Rachel Getting Married last night.. It's a film that is said to base Anne Hathaway's character on the Borderline Personality Disorder. It was strange (yet not so strange) how I could relate to the character's behaviour and her unsaid thoughts and feelings. It had me in tears. It was almost as if I could read into her thoughts when her behaviour changed as a result of her interpersonal relationships with her family. At times, she did not voice how she felt but I could see the cogs working in the back of her head that spurred on her reaction. It was uncanny at times how much she was like me.

She felt so misunderstood and that is a difficult feeling to explain to anyone, hence her destructive ways of trying to express that. A few scenes in particular really struck me hard so much so that it reduced me to tears because it took me back to a place.. a bad place. She'd had a run in with her mum (who is a selfish "role model" to her children and puts her needs before theirs, something that is all too familiar), they exchanged hurtful words and her mum didn't take responsibility for her actions in the past, always on the defence and then she punched her. Hathaway's character got up and punched her right in her fucking face (yes, you can sense that I felt her anger) and then left.

I'm not sure I would've punched her as the way in which I express my anger is usually through shouting - or at times screaming - and I've never physically hurt somebody (ruling out the few times when I was younger and one was alcohol fuelled..). But the way that she just wanted to get out of there and run away as fast as she could was an emotion I feel most times and usually I do run away or do everything in my power to try and avoid these feelings..to no avail. I have learned to cope with these feelings of avoidance of late, but it is no where near being completely modified. In time. Back to the point, she ran out of her mum's house, got in the car, crying, completely distraught - I could feel the pain in her head - and instead of turning off the road where she needed to, she put her foot down and drove straight into the unknown.. and crashed.

That feeling... that destructive behaviour.. that feeling of not caring what would happen next.. you're just going to do it, act on impulse because you don't know what else to do.. the running and going and going until there is no coming back from it, making a fucking mess on the floor only for you to have to try and clear it up afterwards (which is almost impossible for you because you can't take responsibility for your actions). My impulsive and destructive behaviour has been the bane of my life. It has caused me - and lots of other people - distress and hurt and anger... exactly what happened to her when she realised that she was going to have to face the consequences.

Another scene that got right under my skin was when she came back home after the crash, black and blue and her sister took her in with open arms. She bathed her whilst Hathaway's character cried in the bath tub. It was all very real for me. I've been there; you don't have any words anymore, just tears and it's sort of you saying "Help me... I can't do it anymore. I need you to look after me. I need to feel loved". You're just broken...dead...empty...exhausted... laying on the floor. You just need someone to take your hand and help you back up.

Anyway, I'll be watching this again. Wanted to type more but I just want to lay on the sofa. I want to write another post on how I'm feeling right now. After a smoke or two...or six.

The Bernard Bert

Just had to say...

"That awkward moment when your friend unknowingly rates your ex in front of you".

Too funny.

Makes me smile, so I will post. A good friend helping my brain to try and get off the rollercoaster. Laughter is one of the best medicines.

The Bernard Bert

I Would Be Rich

My poor head.

I don't mean a headache. I mean my poor brain is going on a rollercoaster ride after stupid encounters today.

Lonely.

My daughter is away tonight and it makes me realise how lonely my life is.

The Bernard Bert

Mind

From the Mind website.

Had to fight back the tears.

It makes me realise more and more what I need to do; take this treatment. Live it. Breathe it. Be it.

Dear borderline me...

Posted Tuesday 26 February 2013

I’ve been fortunate to take part in a research program exploringmindfulness. One of the homework exercises asked me to write a letter to my future self as part of an action plan for coping with a time when I may be struggling. 

It’s taken me a long time. It seemed an insurmountable task – I’ll never forget the feeling of living death that is depression and wondered if this was just an exercise in futility - but it’s actually done a lot to kindle real compassion for myself within me. This exercise, coupled with the mindful meditations I’ve learnt, has helped plant seeds of affection for myself, something I’ve never felt before.

Dear borderline me, 

Well done for digging this out. I know things seem pointless right now so thanks for giving this a go.

Chances are you’ve been slogging away and just realised that, instead of “getting through it”, you’re actually sinking. We’ve been here before, right? We know the signs: stuff gets top of you and instead of standing back and prioritising, you’ve tried to do it all and done none of it well. Everything makes you cry, the fear and negativity in the world seem overwhelming and you no longer find pleasure in simple things like a shower or fresh sheets. You wake in the morning exhausted wondering how you’ll get through the day. Your concentration’s shot and your inability to remember what you were doing two seconds ago is confirmation of your inadequacy.

It took me ages to write this because I didn’t think anything I could say would penetrate the cocoon of flaccid lethargy I know you’re sealed in right now. But what kind of a writer would we be if I believed that?

There are some important things you need reminding of; the first being: we make a great team, you and I – you feeling, me putting it into words. You might think you got the bum deal there but believe me, my part’s no cakewalk either. Now, if you haven’t already put this note back thinking, “Oh shuddup you arrogant twerp”, you’re already doing great. Just keep reading these words we wrote together before this black cloud descended.

Don’t beat yourself up for being a lazy-arsed waste of space. You’ve got a husband for that and you know in your heart of hearts he’s only winding you up, however much you want to latch onto something negative. Borderline personality disorder (BPD) means we live life as a performance and furtively view the world from backstage, constantly evaluating our execution. We’re our own harshest critic and this saps energy like nothing else. Its not surprising things come crashing down every once in a while, and people’s love feels like pressure or criticism.

We’ve come so far and learnt so much; don’t belittle it. For some, the world would be a hollow place without you in it, however much you tell yourself “They’ll manage.” Your husband and children unhesitatingly turn to you for love, support and advice. Your greatest fear of something terrible happening to them is also their fear for you. Don’t be the one to make it their reality. The words we write together reach others in lonely places all over the world. You make a difference.

You ask, “Must I keep pushing myself to be social, productive and successful my whole life, or can I just give in to my natural inclination to be a hermit and accept my fears instead of fighting them?”

The answer to both is “No.” You don’t have to keep forcing yourself to go against your instincts, but neither should you let fear limit you. That liberating feeling of “**** what everyone else thinks!” that depression’smaking you feel right now? Hang onto it. It’s right. It’s what’ll get you through this.

You need to put yourself first – it’s not selfish or arrogant like you were always told; it’s recognizing that you have as much value as anyone else, and having the self-awareness to own your needs; accepting them and dealing with them responsibly. That voice in your head… you know, the TRUE You? The one we try and get down on the page? You need to treasure it. The True You is far more valuable than anything you can construct. Trust it. You’ll be surprised. It actually has all the answers you’re looking for – you just have to listen.

That tenuous spark of connection you feel with the greater, wider world is the real thing. That’s why you feel better when you get yourself outdoors. The negativity you feel is something you’ve learned to manufacture for yourself; a poison originally administered by those who couldn’t or wouldn’t be true to themselves and sought to pass on their regret and disappointment so they could say they weren’t the only ones to foul up. Go for as many walks as you want, just do it – don’t wait for excuses to form. Depression detests fresh air!

You’ve learnt so much in the past year – you’ve really started to wake up. You’re writing, drawing and reading more – reconnecting with your true You, coming out of the trance. With BPD, identity is a stream of consciousness, not a solid structure. It’s difficult to pin down, but when you know who you are, you stop letting people's perception of you define you. Tune in to what comes from within – don’t take your cues from outside. You’ve learnt big lessons about the pressures of achievement, religion, gender and society and you’ve recognized they’re just paper cutouts that distract from the real thing. Remember what Bruce Lee said:

“ It is like a finger pointing to the moon; stare at the finger and you will miss all that heavenly glory.”

Hold on to all that you learnt about mindfulness. Take a break right now and do a 3-Minute-Breathing-Space. It’s three minutes. That’s nothing. You don’t even have to move, and you know you’ll feel better for it. It’s an easy achievement score. Go on, I’ll wait.

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Ok, good. Now, I want you to do something for us. In the days to come, revisit the mindfulness course, re-read the series we wrote on it. Make your vows afresh. Take small steps. Watch “What About Bob” with the kids; and baby-step like Bill Murray. For now though, go and do something that’ll make you feel better, even if it seems pointless; run a bath, grab a book, go for a walk and take the camera. THIS is where you need to put the effort in, don’t waste it keeping up appearances for others.

Don’t forget – everyone else out there is doing it too, conforming to expectations, measuring their “worth” against others – they’re all wearing the same mask. We’ve seen the magazines at the supermarket checkouts – everyone has doubts, worry’s they’ve missed the boat, fears inadequacy – they hide it just like you do. The minority are those with the awareness, strength and courage to refuse to do it anymore, we don’t hear so much about them.

Let go your belief that everyone else is better at “life” than you are. This is a tool you use to cause yourself emotional pain – it’s impossible for anyone else to hurt you in this way. You’re not that world away from perfection you think you are. It’s just an illusion. No one finds it easy.

Remember your negative thoughts are not facts. So just stop. Catch yourself and stop. All that mindfulness practice means you can spot it a lot more easily now. This, my friend, is progress. Remember how excited that realization made us feel? It’s still there, even if you don’t feel it right now. It hasn’t gone; you haven’t lost it. We can continue exploring it together when you’re ready. Hang in there. Like everything, this will pass.

Ok. That’s all. I hope it helps, but more than that, I hope we don’t have the occasion to find out.

Love and loyalty,

Your optimistic other You 

Aisha

Stigma

Pretty good post about stigma in the workplace and I can completely relate...

http://www.mind.org.uk/posts/reply/24/8571#reply_preview

The Bernard Bert

I posted a link a while back...

Felt I needed to post it again. For me.

The burn of borderline personality disorder

Posted Friday 25 January 2013

Marsha Linehan, an American psychologist and author uses a great analogy to describe what Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is… 

" People with BPD are like people with third degree burns over 90 percent of their body. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement".  

Try to imagine that third degree burn, over 90 percent of your body, a physical wound, one that is painful, raw and sensitive; suppose someone tries to put a lotion on that wound, a wound that cannot be touched without causing intense agony. Imagine the pain that you would have to endure just to begin the healing process. 

Now imagine the same for an emotional wound.  

Physical wounds heal, some may leave a scar; emotional wounds leave scars too, but sometimes emotional wounds don’t heal, they are left, open to infection, open for others to touch, open to cause the most intense pain.

Try to visualise a world which consists of only black and white; a world where grey ceases to exist.  A world which has no middle ground; it’s either all or nothing, good or bad. 

For some people with BPD, good days are overflowing with beauty.  They become creative, inspired by life, they live in a world of complete and utter perfection.  They are on a high, living in a euphoric state, the world is unblemished; their life is flawless.   

And then come the bad days, they overflow with anguish and suffering. Their once perfect world has now become empty and broken. They are lonely and frightened. The inspiration they once had has disappeared and they feel like a complete failure. The good days are now so distant; they can no longer be remembered. 

They over analyze words and actions. They lose control of their lives; they become self destructive, unreasonable and paranoid.  They can’t focus, can’t concentrate, can’t sleep and they become irrational in their thinking and behaviour. They believe that everyone around them will leave; abandon them. They can’t ever see it getting better, they feel trapped, suffocated; they can’t breathe.

They have no self-esteem, no self-worth; they hate themselves.

They feel that they no longer have a place in the world; they no longerwant a place in the world.  Life is unbearable. They want to die just to stop the pain.  

Then, they feel elated, euphoric, back in the perfect world and the cycle continues. 

People with BPD are very often misunderstood, they are categorised as over-sensitive, dramatic and attention seeking. Everything they say or do is misconstrued.  

Have you ever looked at someone with BPD and thought exactly the same?  

Imagine having BPD just for a day. Imagine seeing life through the eyes of someone with this disorder… 

Someone thinks you’re ‘needy’, with BPD; you just need to know you’re loved.

A person points out your flaws, with BPD, you already know your flaws, you obsess about them, all of the time.

Someone tries to encourage you by pointing out how you could improve on something, with BPD, you only hear the words, ‘you’re a failure.’

Somebody doesn’t ring you when they said they would, with BPD this means they’ve abandoned you.

Somebody asks what you could possibly have to be depressed about, with BPD, you now feel ashamed for feeling this way.

Someone tells you to stop being so negative, with BPD, this only intensifies how you feel.

People tell you that the bad days will pass; with BPD you feel that they don’t understand.

Someone tells you that they’re too busy to see you; with BPD it means that you have become a burden on them.

Someone changes your routine; with BPD they've upturned your world. 

Look again at somebody with BPD, what is it you see now?

Natalie

Lamb

I fucking hate you.

I'm sick of you being fucking scared of me. Fucking scared of my reaction.

I'M SICK OF YOU WALKING ON EGG SHELLS.

What do you think I am going to do if you just be honest? Hit you? What? Surely you fucking know.

You can never be fucking honest with me.

Everything about you says that you are scared of me. Your body language. The look on your face. The things you say and avoid to say. Everything.

You are literally walking on egg shells.

And yet you chose to provoke me in front of my daughter? When all I am trying to do is protect her from my disorder? Why would you do that? I am not capable of switching it on and off. But you are. You have a fucking choice.

Why are you afraid to say what you're thinking to me? Why did you feel the need to hover around my house? What, in hope that I would be like "Help me, I need help. Please hug me". That's never going to happen. You made me feel like you were there to try and look after me, like I wouldn't be ok. I felt suffocated by your uneasiness. The way you crept around the house, like I would break if you said anything "wrong". The way you act as if I am so fucking fragile. I am stronger than you.

You know what my daughter just said to me? "He is scared of you".

Thanks. Thanks so fucking much.

You constantly seek reassurance in me. You are not healthy for me. You do not make me feel good because you act so unsure, so scared. You're consistent, which is good - I need stability. But what is not good is that you're consistent at being unsure how to be around me. Sometimes I feel like your therapist.

Your uncertainty unsettles me. It makes me question myself. It makes me feel ashamed. It makes me feel invalid. It makes me feel guilty. It makes me feel selfish. It makes me feel alone. It makes me feel that I am not right in the head, that I am all wrong, that I was made wrong.

My therapist said to me, "There is nothing wrong with you. You do not need to change. Everybody has their flaws. Everybody. You understand that your life experiences make you vulnerable, you are aware of that. But it is not about change. It is about modifying our negative thoughts, feelings and behaviour to help you cope better. There is nothing wrong with you".

Your uncertainty unsettles me right to the core. It shakes me up. My head feels like it's going to explode everytime you are around me.

You treat me as if I am ill. You treat me as if I am an invalid. You do not just acknowledge that I am struggling. You make a show of it. You treat me like I can't cope. You make me feel like a psychopath.

I do not want to be labelled. But you shout that label out: "SHE HAS BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER!! SHE IS ILL! AH THAT'S WHY SHE IS LIKE SHE IS! IT'S NOT HER FAULT!"

Excuses. Excuses. Shitting excuses.

I am not just a "borderline".

I am a human being.

I have feelings.

I have thoughts.

I hurt when I bang my head.

My shit doesn't smell like roses.

I express my emotions.

I look awful when I wake up.

I cry when I am sad.

I am not just a "borderline".

I have a name.

The Bernard Bert

Cover Your Ears

I'm going to carry on being honest about how I feel... as I experience every drop of emotion... I cannot help the way that I feel. I simply can't.

I am very alone. Alone with myself. Alone with these struggles. Alone and scared. Crying and crying... I am not just feeling "down", that word does not do it justice in the slightest. I am never just "down". From the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep, I am in what feels like hell. Hell and chaos in my head.

I dread going to sleep because I know that the night will fly right passed me and then tomorrow will come and it will be another battle. Another struggle to get through the day. I don't have very many "good" days anymore. On a Friday and Saturday I try to stay up as long as I can in hope that tomorrow won't come. The thought of it fills me with dread, like there is a gaping hole in my stomach...

I was just laying on my bed listening to music and then the track finished and all was silent. All you could hear were the sounds of my cries. As I laid there with my arms by my sides, I turned them over and thought how peaceful I would be if I cut my wrists so deep that there was no coming back. I would just bleed to death in my bed and it would be too late before anyone found me. And I thought of my daughter and how better off she would be without me... no more inconsistencies. She could grow up sane and with somebody stable. I'm scared I am ruining her childhood. I am scared that I am turning her into me.

The thought of me laying there on blood soaked sheets did not scare me at all; it filled me with comfort and peace. Knowing that the battle would end... I would die with a smile on my face.

Though I will not do it, it is sad that the only time I feel at peace is when I am thinking about dying.

I need a hug. I need to cry on somebody's shoulder. But I can't. I feel that there is only one person in my life that validates me on my journey... I don't think she knows how much she has done for me. Some people know, but they don't know. I just don't think they know how to be there. And I feel guilty and selfish thinking these things, but they don't know or don't want to know... I don't know... I know people have their own shit but surely... Maybe it is my issue... I cannot explain. All part of the chaos in my fucking head.

I have no father. My mother is practically non existent in my life. My younger sister has a family of her own. My older sister is trying to find her own answers. My younger brother isn't around. I have no aunts, uncles, nans, granddads or cousins. I don't have a partner. I am on my own. I deal with this on my own and it is a discouraging thought.

I'm quite sick and tired of being on my own. I feel invalidated. I feel non existent. I feel that the severity of it is not heard. I feel that I'm just another mental health problem. I feel that I am not allowed to be ill. It is no wonder that I try to be strong all of the time...

I don't think I am going to get better.

The Bernard Bert

Pick me up please

I feel like I am 14 again.

My head is going to explode. The walls will be covered in my brains. Better there than in my skull.

Run, run, run away. As fast as you can. Far away from all this mess. The shit will follow you no matter where you go. Hunt you down until you cry. Smother you.

Therapist.

Talk.

Shit.

Patronise.

Shit.

Judge.

Talk.

Mother.

Lost.

Stuck.

Misunderstood.

Talk.

Die.

Run.

Hide.

Talk.

Talk.

Smile.

No.

People.

Consideration.

Judge.

Fear.

Dying.

Breathe.

No.

Talk.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Shame.

Dead.

Run.

Talk.

Dark.

Alone.

Dizzy.

Ill.

Run.

Avoid.

Hate.

Help.

The Bernard Bert

Food for Thought

The Bernard Bert

Walking on Fire

Was not feeling great this morning at all, just wanted to hide under a rock... but being at work distracted me from things so my mood lifted... And now I'm back on my own... not sure how I feel.

I was faced with a massive challenge today; changing my behaviour toward my parenting. I always try to be the best mum I can be but my disorder always stands in my way... ones that I don't want to go into now but a lot of those issues circle around my irrational and inconsistent moods and guilt and the fear of being judged... but today a good friend helped me onto the right path.

Everything happens for a reason. 

I could've taken the easy road, which is pretty much an avoidance technique that I am oh so used to for the temporary relief it gives me. Going in that direction though is always like a domino effect on everything else. You just sink into a bad cycle just for the temporary relief of having an easy life at the time and not having to worry about the feelings it brings about afterwards. 

My ideas about achieving anything were confirmed to me today; nothing is going to be worth shit if you take the easy road. You've got to work for success, take the hard and long road, but the work pays off.

Today was a very good milestone in my life as a mum. I did the complete opposite of what I would usually do and though I still experienced negative emotions afterwards, they were not as intense and the more I stick to this behaviour the more those emotions almost don't exist anymore. RE PARENTING. And doing it in all aspects of my life because EVERYTHING leads back to the disorder. I mean everything. It is part of me, embedded in me right to the core. It is everything I have learned. It is my unwilling automatic response to be this way because I know no other.

I have made a choice to change and I will.

I am very proud of my daughter. My love for her exceeds everything and though I may be taking this journey for myself, I am also doing it for her. She deserves to grow up in a place that is the complete opposite to my experience as a child. I will do all in my power to ensure she doesn't go through the same as I did. 

I am very proud of myself for making a positive change. It's the whole case of going butt naked again, but I ripped those clothes off to be exposed and it paid off. Hard work pays off. It was never going to be easy. 

I am nowhere near to success but knowing that I actually did something to help my progress is an encouraging thought. My CBT therapist (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) says that no, we cannot change the way we think or feel, that it is almost impossible... so, we start at the root of what we can change: our behaviour. We can control our actions if only we take a step back and find the strength to do the complete opposite to your usual negative behaviour. Yes, it takes a hell of a lot out of you, especially if you have to slowly change most behaviours that you do, but soon the modified behaviour has a positive effect on your thoughts and emotions. Behaviour Challenges.

Sometimes I don't know how to ask for help, I just need someone to point me in the right direction. Sometimes I don't have the strength to do it on my own, I just need someone to take my hand and guide me.

Sometimes I'm so lost and my will has faded, I just need someone to pick me up off of the ground. 

The Bernard Bert

Falling

Falling...

I kind of like the fact that her body is all out of proportion because her mind is... distorted. Embrace my humour.

Inspired by Wirrow.

The Bernard Bert

Edit: I just thought...if she is falling then her hair should be going UP... but she's a special person...

Insert Title

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Sarah.

Marina Abramovic

Beautiful.

http://carlosbaila.tumblr.com/post/44458098130/marina-abramovic-meets-ulay-marina-abramovic-and

The Bernard Bert

Take This Sinking Boat and Point It Home

I am struggling. Once again.

I wasn't really prepared for all the things that I had buried deep over the course of my life to come to the surface. Opened a can of worms... I don't like worms. They freak me out.

I need to prepare myself for treatment. This it it. Approaching the first day of the rest of my life. It will suck the life out of me and I'll be sinking into a pool of worms. Just sinking, sinking...

Most recently the worms are in the form of my mother and the unwanted resentment I have toward her. The other, is my past relationships with partners that I pushed so far away that they are now out of reach.

I found myself just bumming around last night even though I had so much to do. I didn't want to. I just wanted to bum. So I did. I started thinking about the greatest love of my life that I pushed away and destroyed to an extent. I started reading messages from five years ago. One struck me hard. It was after we had broken up and he sent me a message explaining what I had done and why he had to leave. I remember at the time feeling the guilt when I read it but also the defensiveness I had over myself, like I couldn't admit that I had done something wrong. But, reading it five years on... I can see everything... and I can hold my hands up... and it all makes sense why I did the things I did and why I could never take responsibility for them back then... it was always easier for me to run and blame it on somebody else because I didn't have the tools to understand my behaviour... I'm taking responsibility now... it's never too late to admit that you were wrong... and lost...

I was so lost...

I put that guy through hell and back again. I need to deal with the guilt. I think I broke him as a person and though it doesn't excuse the pain he put me through afterwards with his destructive behaviour, I understand why he did it. I understand what I did to him. No it was not my fault, it wasn't anybody's fault, but I am sorry nonetheless. I wish I knew the things I do today about myself and maybe I wouldn't have lost him... everything has a reason and I can't think that way...

Relationships and the "Borderline" (I put in quotes because I can't stand that word to describe me) just don't mix. I think it is impossible for me to have a relationship until I am in recovery. My therapist said that though I can better, I will always have to check myself, always have to take a step back and make sure I'm not relapsing...forever... that is a scary thought but I am accepting it.

We can't do relationships because we feel we are unworthy of love and will do all in our power to try and prove that. So we push, push and push until they are gone and we can turn round and say "I told you so. I am not worthy of love". I never had stability or consistent love through my childhood. It is unnatural to me. It makes me feel like I don't deserve it when someone comes along and gives me a part of their heart. I don't know what to do with it, so I start tearing it up, running, avoiding, trying to give it back... trying to prove that I am not worthy to have it... that is all I know. Hence the destructive behaviour... I will subconsciously make you hate me... Love... it unsettles me. I hope one day I can receive it with open arms and look after it...

I just fall deeper and deeper into an unhealthy cycle and I never knew how to break it... I never knew what was wrong... I thought that was just the way things had to be. I never knew any different.

I always said that I would be dead before I was 25 if I didn't get help. I always said that it's got to be better than this.

It's got to be better than this.

Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice, you'll make it now...

The Bernard Bert