Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.
— Oscar Wilde.
This is the first post on my new blog. I’m just getting this new blog going, so stay tuned for more. Subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates.
My First Blog Post
My mean mouth
I don’t know why I’m so mean. Today’s blog is probably going to have a different tone because I feel in a different mood. I feel down. I feel flustered. I feel annoyed. Today is just a bad day. I have a migraine and I don’t give a damn about one thing.
Was I raised to have a mean mouth? Is it born into me? Is it all I know or is it something that can’t be changed? Something that was destined to be that is out of my control. Is that possible? Am I just reaching?
Here’s the thing. I have such a tender heart. I care to the core. My heart aches when yours aches. My tears come when yours come. I want to bring hope and love to all and save the world. That’s me. I hate seeing others in pain. So why do I cause it? Pain.
Every time I open my mouth I cause pain. Ok. I’m exaggerating. I’d say 65% of the time. That’s a lot. But I can honestly assure you that none of it (ZERO!) is intentional. Promise. Zip. So why does it happen? I tear myself apart trying to answer that very question.
See, it’s not a thought out tone. It just shouts out. And the sad thing is, is that I don’t even know it. You look at me with those confused eyes, those hurt expressions, and I stop. I can’t comprehend it and then it hits. Shit. I did it. Again. I smacked you right across your face. Hard as can be and I didn’t even feel my hand move. Figuratively anyway.
You know what’s sad? Some of my family does it too. They think it’s funny. They make jokes about it. Ugh the jokes. Like “I can’t help what comes out of my mouth. You’ve been warned” kind of crap. Like, seriously?! You feel like you’re somehow entitled to treat people like shit and I’m over here tearing myself apart in anguish that I freaking burned another soul that I love and so desperately wish I could take away their pain. The very pain I caused. And you think it’s funny. It’s hard to see that.
There’s no excuse. I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing I’m treating others so badly and I’m horrible for it or not knowing why I do it. In the end I feel like I don’t deserve any love in return. I don’t deserve it. I tell my husband I’d rather be alone than keep hurting over and over.
So what is it? Is it a choice? Is it my mental health? Can I change it? I’m sure I can change it. I WANT to change it. But how do you change something that you don’t know you’re doing? It’s like how I bounce my leg. People get so annoyed and I feel so bad but I don’t know I’m doing it. How can I stop if I don’t know I’m doing it. I have gotten better. I’ve tried and tried to catch myself doing it and stopping it. It’s worked. So I know I can work on it a little but can I ever completely stop? I don’t know. I really don’t know and I hate that.
This is so hard to talk about because people judge. They’re going to read this and think that I’m insane and I’m just being, excuse my language but dare I say, a bitch. I can never explain my heart. I don’t want to do this. I never knew I was even doing anything wrong until I was older and it was pointed out to me. Now I can see it more.
Why do I do it? I’ve asked myself over and over. Someone mentioned they think it’s because of trust. When you think you can’t trust someone and need to defend yourself. When you get scared. You retreat. It’s all a defense mechanism you develop from your childhood usually with borderline. Constantly having to defend. I have to learn to give myself grace. I have to trust myself that I can try harder and do better. I have to trust those around me. Most importantly my therapist to help me make my best choices. I know these things but I don’t know that it’s helping. It’s honestly rearing it’s ugly head more lately and causing lots of issues in my close relationships and life has been rough.
And so I live. Wondering. Hurting. Hanging my head and asking, yet again, for forgiveness.
Things are calm… or are they?
Writing has been on my mind. I started this blog to share all of my ups and downs and struggles. There used to be many, but right now my psychiatrist has me on a good cocktail of medications. I am super happy about that! It is a relief. It does come with many thoughts for me. Uncertain thoughts. This is all new to me. It’s been awhile since I’ve been in a good place.
I think it’s been about 3 months now that I’ve been in this good place. It’s really weird. I can think. I can feel my moods and it allows me to adjust before those moods explode. It’s a good thing but that awareness can feel overwhelming sometimes.
I am so used to loud, uncertain emotion and explosive behavior that for it to be more balanced, leaves me feeling uneasy waiting for the earth to shake. Constantly waiting for the chaos.
I can almost hear Vickie telling me to stop thinking so much. I just don’t know how to do that. It’s a feeling (I feel) I can’t control. I’m so used to the chaos my brain just waits for it like a baby waiting in her crib for her mom to come pick her up after her nap. It’s a known occurrence. But I have to retrain that feeling. Because if I want to heal, I have to learn to let the chaos go and accept the calm regulated emotions.
There still are hard days. The past few days I feel so frustrated because I swear Daniel is mad or annoyed at me. He claims he isn’t. And it is so like me to sit and let it fester and believe he is and let it grow into this big nonexistent blob of irritation. He knows it’s coming. I now know it’s coming. I never used to see it before but I’ve learned to see the signs. I’m learning to try and ride it out before I make it a thing. Every comment I want to add to the pile of “see, he said that, he’s mad” or “ugh I knew he hated me”. Because these are reality to me. These are thoughts I hear. I convince myself I’m unlovable and have done something that would make him mad at me. All because he was annoyed at some stupid thing like stepping on something sticky on the kitchen floor that the kids had left and he let that trail into his tone and I let that spiral into a “me” thing. I must’ve done something. It’s all me. He’s allowed to be annoyed. I just have to learn to stop thinking it’s all because of me. That’s the hard part.
Just as I got a little off topic there, I do the same in my reactions to the world around me. I take it and spiral. These are the hard days. These are things medications can’t heal. These are things some people may experience on occasion but I do constantly which makes it unhealthy. This is why I need help. This is why it’s a constant battle and regulation of my emotion and emotional reactions.
For the past few months I’ve done well. I can actually feel myself pause these reactions and redirect my thoughts. Usually. I know it will always be my battle. I am grateful that usually Daniel is able to help me through it. Help me see it. Help me redirect.
It all makes me question, though, will I ever be better? Not perfect, but better? Will I fall back? Will I ever learn? I know most of the answers. I am better (than I was). I will fall, at times. I am learning. The questions still linger, as I’m sure they always will. Why is it I can’t be satisfied with the answers? Why do I always question?
I try to accept the reality. This is me. This is who I am. I may always need help. Daniel, therapy, meds. But I will survive. I will manage it. I may always question but I will grow and learn. I will pray and trust and survive. Things won’t always be calm but they will be as calm as I allow them to be. If I focus on my capabilities instead of my weaknesses, things can be and will be much more calm in my life. It’s all in my perspective.
Not always beautiful
Recently I was on a walk with my family and I had an amazing realization that I wanted to write about. It’s been a couple weeks now that it’s been brewing and tonight I finally think I have found my words!
I have really enjoyed our walks during this season because it is sunny and beautiful most days, yet it’s not hot. It’s a comfortable walk that is enjoyable in many ways. I think my work in therapy has helped me to be grounded and truly take in and see things around me. When I walk I hear more clearly the sounds around me. I see the world more openly and more whole. I see things I hadn’t taken time to breathe in and let settle in my mind.
A little preface to this post but I LOVE spring! I anxiously wait for the beautiful colors on the trees and bushes. They’re my favorite. I cannot explain how it effects my soul. I drink it in with my eyes and it brings a brighter step to my day. On the outside of me you may see chaos and think I probably am not able to see the tiny details, but I do. They’re more vivid in my eyes because of all of the dark times.
Along the pathway to our main door at our house, there is a row of about ten big bushes (they’re huge for a bush!) that turn such a beautiful yellow. This is how I know the times are changing for my senses. I anxiously await for the yellow to creep in and it seems simultaneously the sun is out most of the days. I feel a deep happiness which is sometimes just not there for me. Here is a picture of my daughter in front of those bushes.
Soon after those change color, the “popcorn trees” blossom in white. They are beautiful as well. And then comes the purple trees. I have no clue what any of these trees are called and, honestly, it doesn’t matter! I just go by how they make me feel. I think the purple are some of my favorites.
As we walked I was overcome with all of the beauty. As I was thinking of all of these trees and our beautiful walk, it got me thinking about the whole spring and summer and all of the beauty. The thing is that the beauty is not from one specific thing. They all play a part of it. And to take that even further, the beauty of each individual thing is minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Those yellow bushes start off my joyous senses of the warmer parts of the year, but that joy and beauty doesn’t really last. The leaves are already gone. And they aren’t very pretty now.
But then the next tree reaches full bloom and then the next. It’s a never ending cycle until fall. There is one plant (flower) that does stay in full bloom most of the season that I find beauty in completely. It’s the creeping phlox. It spreads and spreads and it stands out from the green around it.
So as we continued our walk, a relation to my mental health popped into my head. These trees and flowers aren’t always beautiful. In fact, their amount of beauty out of the year is really not that much. This really struck me.
I have major ups and downs with my moods. Sometimes it’s almost unbearable and feels endless. The depression is one of the worst things I’ve experienced. But the beauty always comes.
Although the trees’ beauty lasts such a short time over the course of a year, there will always be beauty in our life in some way, no matter how big or small. The trials of depression are so strong that the beauty is much more sweeter, so much more noticeable, just like the sweet trees of spring. It is more treasured because it is less likely taken for granted.
After the thought, I realized how much I am blessed. I have a beautiful family and they will always be my number one. I won’t always have this outlook. In fact, it’s almost guaranteed that the rough days will shine their head at some point, but there is always the season of hope and love.
I may not always be the beautiful tree of spring but there will be times I shine and bring beauty to this world that no one else can. I won’t always be those negative things my head tells me I am and for that I am grateful.
I am grateful that there is good in me. I am grateful that I can find ways to lift others. I am grateful that there is beauty in things I have done. I am grateful that I have God’s hand in my life to remind me of each and every one of our contributions to this world. If I forget that I am great, I have the beauty outside to remind me that I may not always be beautiful but I have beauty in me. It won’t ALWAYS be my depressive stage, there will be beauty.
My life is the best….for me
I have a ton going through my brain. I had no words for posts until now when my brain has settled and adjusted to the current norm with the pandemic, if that’s possible. I have had a few panic attacks and many conversations with my therapist. I had nothing coming to me for this ‘blog escape’ of mine.
The truth is, I feel like I’ve exploded all of this stuff in a short amount of time. Crazy info people have NO clue about. The blog is supposed to be for others, people that are struggling and can relate, strangers. Yes, strangers. The problem is that when you start a blog, the only people who read it are your friends. You know, you post it anywhere possible to find new readers. New strangers.
So, today something popped into my head and I knew exactly what I wanted to say. Did you know I HATE writing? Like I hate when people suggest that I should journal. Ok. That’s just going to cause me more anxiety because I have another weight on my shoulders. An obligation I won’t be able to follow through with. Lumped with all of those lost hopes in the corner of my life. But blogging is different. It just is. I can spill my brain. I can lay low. It is a choice and not an obligation and I like that.
Anyway, that thought that I had. This involves a ton of info and I can’t get to it all right now. One reason being that it’s a ton of detail and hard to put in the blog post. Two is that it’s a touchy subject. Like deep down personal. I think it will help me heal to talk about it though and so I want to slowly work through it.
Ok. Now that I’ve ran that circle…… my girls don’t live with me full time. Their dad has custody. My heart breaks just even acknowledging that. I try as much as I can to pretend life isn’t the way it is. I know. Not healthy.
There are a ton of parts to this story, like a lot, but the gist of it is they wanted to try living with their dad so I let them. I signed papers and he has custody and he will probably never, I mean EVER, change that even if the girls asked. That breaks me. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. You don’t grow up thinking that you’ll have children just for another women to take your role in their life and be mom. To raise them.
I have come a long way since the change about 8 months ago. It was like a severed limb in the beginning. I couldn’t breath. The pain was so strong. My mental health took a turn for the worst. I just kept sinking in this stupid hole I call my life.
I tried to keep it to myself. For many reasons, I did. You wanna know what the biggest reason is?? Judgements. The only reason I’ve known of a mother not having custody is because she was unfit and unable to care for the kids. But that wasn’t me. Would people think that of me?? Would they judge me when really I was barely hanging on and needed all of the support I could get? I do have to say I have had some awesome friends who have overfilled that role. And, of course I had my super supportive husband, too!
It’s just hard. And I’ve fought daily, torturing myself that I’m not a good enough mother. Telling myself they’re probably better there anyway because of my mental health struggles. What a crappy life they were living next to me. I was dragging them down. Or so my head would tell me.
So as I sat there, giving my baby girl a bath tonight, getting her lotioned and ready for bed, taking in that sweet baby smell, it dawned on me. My life sucks. I have another sibling who doesn’t have custody of their children either and I’m like, dang, 2 out of 6 of my parents kids don’t have custody. How embarrassing. I’m such a failure. I want my life to be “NORMAL”. It’s not fair!!!
Then I felt a smack to my heart. It was such a wake up I almost jumped for joy. Maybe when I tell you, it won’t be as life altering for you as it was for me. But I’m going to share it anyway. What if my life is perfect?? What if I’ve been so down about so many things in my current and recently past life that I’m causing myself to see it worse than it is. Sort of. I mean it does suck. But what I mean is it’s ok if my life isn’t what I thought normal should be. Normal for me is my girls being at their dads. My bonus girls with their mom. Normal for me is having our home split three ways. Split summers. Split weekends. Some kids one week, some the other, and yet a different set the next. That’s life. That’s MY life. I can’t change it. That’s what it is.
Maybe in some ways I chose to own it. Accept it. It’s MINE!! And I love it!! It sucks so bad sometimes, but I will tell you it brings so much more joy. It makes me treasure my children and I don’t take any of them for granted. I love each one of my five daughters that are only here sometimes. Because ya know what?! I don’t only love them sometimes. I love them even when they’re gone. I get to be creative and find ways to connect. A text here, some mail there. Video chat here, and a note there. I get to be the creative me. I get to bring out the parts of me that were overshadowed by my mental health this past year. I have been so far gone in the past that I felt like a failure. But today I realize that this, in some ways, allows me to be the best ME. Allows me to SEE them and give to them instead of always being taken over by my struggles. I didn’t have much to give.
If you asked me what would be my dream arrangement, what I want my family to “look” like (and my therapist just did ask and this was my answer), I’d say my dream is having all nine of us living together in one state, in one home, and all getting along and loving. I’ve been so focused on that for so long I thought I couldn’t be happy if it was any other way.
I’m wrong! I didn’t realize that in some ways that is over reaching. No family loves each other perfectly ALL the time. So why would a blended family? For the most part, the kids are happy and taken care of. As summer approaches, I can see the many days ahead that we will spend together and my heart soars! The other thing, the thing that is so easy to over look, is my sweet little ones. They are 2 and 5. Life for them has not been easy. They have been burdened more than any sweet little one should. They have to deal with two sets of siblings coming and going. They have to deal with one set living in a different state. They have to see the stress of co-parenting times 3 (or 4 or 5 or 6?? I’m really not sure. There are 4 adults for each set of girls) and T and K are troopers. They deserve a wonderful childhood. I get to do that for them more than ever right now. It’s fun to have the simpler life for a bit. Create memories for T and K to grow up with. Good memories.
I don’t know if I even explained the change in my mind very well. There’s no normal. None. Zip. My life is my life. Your life is your life. And no two lives are the same. And you can’t repeat your childhood. (If you want to. Some people may be trying to escape theirs). My life is MY normal. My normal. And I kind of like my normal. I have 7 beautiful and wonderful children. They are mine. And I love them. I would do anything for them and they definitely know that!! We have happy family movie nights. We have memorable family trips. We have us. Family. That’s what I want my children to have. Our family. And they have that. Even if it looks different to someone else. No two families are the same and they never will be and now that I can accept that and see the beauty in my family, I can find joy. I CAN. I may have to come back and re-read this many times to refresh my memory of this day but my heart just feels peace. My family is best…..for me.
It’s OUR DAY!
I wasn’t sure WHAT I wanted to write about, but I knew I wanted to post something today. I just found out it is World Bipolar Day!!!! I love it! I can only hope that people can take time to realize how many of their loved ones are affected with bipolar disorder, or any other mental health issues.
I think the reason I am so excited about it is that I’ve had it for a very long time. Due to digging through my past with my therapist, we feel that it hit me strongly when I was around 19. I’m not quite sure when it actually started though. I think it came on slowly from a young teen and worsened over time.
It is hard not to play the “what if” game. I wonder “what if” I would’ve known sooner. “What if” I had help. “What if” I could be more compassionate and less impulsive. “What if” I didn’t have to ruin others lives. I could go on forever but I hope you get the point.
I’m grateful the world has come a long way in regards to mental health knowledge. I love that we’ve progressed to seeing it as an actual heath issue just like your heart or any other problem. It’s not just looked at as made up or seeking for attention type of problem.
I am so passionate about the knowledge of mental health because I wonder all the time how different and how much better my life would be if I would have had the help that I have today! Parents need to know the signs. People need to know it’s ok to not be ok and that it’s ok to get help.
I wanted to share this post today in hopes that you will seek out at least one person in your life who struggles from mental health disorders (whether bipolar or not) and find a way to uplift, encourage and support them. Honestly, I would hope that you could pass my blog along to at least one person who could benefit from it, as that is my goal….. to support and help others not feel alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!!!
“Mental health isn’t a battle to be won. It is a journey to continue walking.”
Lindsay Adkinson
Timeline – Part 3
I left you with my therapist, Vickie believing I am bipolar. As I said, it was very difficult to receive that as an actual diagnosis at the psychiatrists office. They did finally diagnosis it after a couple of weeks. That was the beginning of December.
Since I was diagnosed, I have been on so many medications. At one point, I was on 6 prescriptions plus the supplements I take. It is a lot. They change every visit as they work to see what I am most receptive to. We have NOT found the right combination. It is nerve wracking!
Sadly, there is no magic antidote. No magic ending. There’s just been so many med changes. So many ups and downs of emotions. Apps to track my moods. Research and questions to find a better solution for ME. It just isn’t there, which is hard for impatient me.
After battling the med changes every couple of weeks, I ended up having another extremely bad spell. I hated life. I hated everyone. I didn’t want to exist. I was no good to anyone. This is real. Nothing you could say would make me feel any different when I get to this point. Vickie is such a support for me that she allows texts and emails, as needed. I was nonstop with her that day. I was wired.
You know it’s bad when your therapist says it’s time to go. Vickie said it’s time. Less than 3 months after my last visit I am in the hospital for the third time. Talk about feeling low. Talk about feeling worthless. Talk about feeling alone, helpless, and hopeless. That’s where I was.
Daniel and I knew this wouldn’t be a short visit compared to the others (3 days and 5 days). We knew things just weren’t right and we needed to figure it out so maybe it prevents ever having another visit. It was hard. Hard to have just had a fight but have to leave the ones you love. Not knowing if you’ll be forgiven.
The process to get into the hospital proved to be a long one this time. I was in the ER in a private room for 24 hours before a bed even opened up at the psych hospital. That means 36-38 hours before even STARTING treatment.
Overall this stay was the most pleasant. It’s hard to talk about as it is viewed as a negative thing. A sort of bad memory. But, you know what? I actually made some really good friends. All of us females, ranging from 19-40 years old. Hanging out, laughing, listening, supporting. When you’re in a place like that, people NEED to laugh, need to feel a friend. You may not know, but you only get visits for 2 hours a day. One day was mine and Daniel’s anniversary. 6 YEARS!!! He came to visit, but due to miscommunication and flu restrictions, we couldn’t see each other that night. They showed up and had to leave without a visit. That did not go well. But we survived. My friends helped distract me.
The other times I’ve been in the hospital, I’ve never had people I connected with. There have been fun conversation or keeping each other busy but that’s it. This was the first time we all decided to keep in contact. One lady I especially connected to was BP and a mom. It was just a good feeling to not feel alone. The point is that none of us would’ve expected any of the others to not be ok. When I look at their social media, I definitely see strong and beautiful women. People are so quick to create pictures in their minds of a mental health patient. We are regular people!!! We are your friend. We are your parent, your sister, your brother. We are your neighbor, your coworker. Fighting silently so we aren’t viewed as weak. It’s a hard battle.
It’s only been a little over a month since I came home. They didn’t change my meds much really. They honestly attributed it to my BPD (borderline personality disorder) instead of my BD (bipolar disorder). I don’t agree at all. It’s a constant battle the past two times when the hospital ups one med but I get out and we realize it wasn’t the right move. As of right now, I am still trying to come off of a couple of them so we can focus on the two we believe are working well. I am still having major irritability and anxiety so we will have to address that but the moods seem better for now which is a great thing. I will keep you posted after we see how the next appointment goes.
Timeline – Part 2
I left you off with me finding my new psychiatrist. The ladies there are amazing to me. I know if all of these things hadn’t led me to them, I would never have gotten the actual help I need. At my first appointment, they did a swab DNA test to know what medications do and don’t work with my body. Then they gave me a forever long questions/interview. This is when I knew I chose the right place.
After all the questioning was done, I received my updated diagnoses. It included: ADD, BPD, GAD (generalized anxiety disorder), SAD (socialized anxiety disorder), PTSD, and MDD (major depressive disorder) with mixed features. Sigh. Whoah that was so much to realize and accept. I never knew I had all of this. I never knew any different. This was just…….ME.
I was able to be started on some awesome medications. Sadly, this would be another part of the medication roller coaster. I have gone for monthly (3-4 weeks) appointments for almost 2 years to try and figure it out.
Oh yeah. Remember that adderall? I got the DNA test back and it was a HUGE no no for me, as were a few of the meds that I had been prescribed by my PCP. It’s all starting to make sense. I really can’t do SSRI’s.
That was in April of 2019. The next 7 months go by with the same story each appointment. Tweaking here. Tweaking there. Ups and downs of figuring the meds out. I had good times and then I’d have some hard times.
Around October, I started falling again. Just so depressed. More than I’ve ever felt before, but also way different. Before, my depression always felt like a heaviness weighing me down, sad about things, just more than sad. But this felt entirely different. There was no “reason”. There was nothing I could do to feel any sense of peace or comfort. We decided it was bad enough that it was time to go to the hospital again. I needed immediate help that the psychiatrist couldn’t give me that quickly.
Feeling like a burden and failure, I went (again) to the hospital. It was hard. I knew I needed to be there but I worried I’d be judged. I also questioned why no one else has to experience this. The people I see around me are fine and don’t have these demons. Or so I thought. Now I realize it’s a stigma. Everyone has something they’re facing. THIS is why I blog. THIS is why I share all of this intimate information.
Ok, so after that stay and my meds were a little more stable it has been a whirlwind. That was 4 months ago. Right after I was out, we decided to bump my therapist visits up to twice a week. They wanted me to do IOP which is an outpatient group that meets 6 hours a week AND DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy). It would be hard to manage. I had to choose what I could manage in MY life. That’s where twice a week with Vickie came in. She is amazing. She has dug in and gained my trust and listened so much.
A month after I was in the hospital and having talked so much with Vickie about my past, she felt I was BP2 (bipolar type 2). She was amazed she hadn’t even seen it before. I just hadn’t shared the right information. After pushing at the psychiatrists office, they finally agreed I was bipolar. I had been asking for months because I felt that’s what I had. So add that to all of the other diagnoses.
There is more for me to do a part 3, so I leave you here. I leave you with hope and support that there’s help. There’s always help, it just may take time.
Timeline – Part 1
I’ve told you parts of my story from the beginning of my relationship with Daniel. And now I will tell the most recent few years.
I’m going to begin where I can remember seeing the struggles start to form. Struggles that maybe I noticed but I thought were acceptable. As time went on and talking to Daniel, I realized I needed help.
The timeframe I can remember significantly of all the struggles was right after I had T. He was a very high needs child and nursed around the clock for the first two years. He didn’t really eat much food. He slept through the night, attached to me for most of the time. I felt like I was just touched out and sleep deprived.
During this time I also started on the mini pill. It’s the only birth control prescribed to nursing mothers. I didn’t really have any other experience with birth control so I didn’t know what to expect. I pretty much forgot about it and moved on.
Then it hit. I was angry and irritable. I was miserable in my role and couldn’t see a way out. I lost my identity, and I slowly spiraled into a dark place. I was extremely depressed and so I sought help. They prescribed an anti-depressant.
I didn’t want to reach out at first, so I also went to the good old internet. I read lots of articles and blogs. One day I stumbled on a blog about a lady who had taken the mini pill and turned into an angry, lashing out person. She was full of rage. Throwing things. Punching things. Angry. Depressed. I could go on.
Then it hit me. It was a punch to the gut, but it was a relief. Like a lightbulb went on. See I had also yelled and thrown things and punched a hole in a door. It was extreme and out of character. I’m surprised Daniel would’ve stayed with the person I’d turned into.
It was also a relief in a sense that part of it was not my fault! I could do something to possibly change all of this. I did stop the mini pill and stayed on the anti-depressant. Overall, it was a huge turn around. There were still times I would lash out again and be so angry at everything and threaten divorce. Then life went on as if I wasn’t some crazy person. I knew no different.
Life went on like this for about 3 years. The only change was going off of the anti-depressant at some point. On the outside, most people only saw the wonderful loving side of me. Unless, occasionally, I got irritated enough that I would be just a little rude or angry to someone, but nowhere near what I was at home.
In about April of 2018, I sought out testing for ADHD. I had a friend who took adderall and swore by it. I realized talking to her that I had so many of the same symptoms. I cannot focus or remember things for the life of me. The thought of being able to have a more clear life sounded amazing. So I went. My doctor tried adderall as well as many meds for depression and anxiety which I didn’t do well with and he decided it was time for higher help.
He sent me for testing. I went. I had ADD. I was then recommended a psychiatrist NP who talked to me a lot and prescribed me meds she thought would fit. At first, it was adderall and the beginning of many trials of depression/anxiety medications. Little did I know how complicated mental health treatment is and how long of a road it would be.
A few months after seeing the psychiatrist, I went into a really extreme low. It was bad. A good friend was taking notice at the time and through the encouragement of her and Daniel, I decided I needed help and went to the hospital. They admitted me to the behavioral hospital. A place I thought was for anyone but me. I was so wrong.
What I learned during that visit would prove to be a huge step in my mental health care. For this, I can never thank my friend enough for keeping an eye on me or Daniel for supporting me.
During this stay, I found out I had Borderline personality disorder (BPD), major depressive disorder with mixed features and ADD. The doctor (she’s AMAZING!!) immediately took me off of the adderall and low and behold, I was fine overnight. Let me tell you, I was very suicidal and hopeless. I was not in a good place at all.
This is a two part post so I will wrap it up by saying that my NP for medication is no longer a part of my life. Instead of looking for reasons I may be severe, she just added MORE medications and I immediately switched to a freaking awesome practice that I LOVE. One who did everything good that my NP did not do.
The Curvy Road
This past week has been so difficult for me. I wanted to write some positive message for today but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. Let me see if I can pull some joyful moments out. It will do me some good.
When I have a bad day or week, I often am left unable to see the trigger or where it began. This week is no different as I sit here thinking about it. I’m not sure where the turn of events were. I’m not sure if it just comes and goes that quickly, or my poor memory which has been unwavering lately.
I look back on struggles wondering who I am. I am like an outsider looking in and not recognizing who I see. I see someone so full of anger and rage. Someone who’s aim is to kill (or at least severely wound) the “enemy”. How could I have an enemy? Oh, but I do. Those I love most are my usual enemies. They are so “hurtful” and “ill-willing”.
But I cannot imagine the person I become in those times ever being a semblance of me or my character. Yet when it all is done, there I am. Guilty as ever. So embarrassed. So shameful. See, those are the typical curves in the road I call my life. A hill in the road and then all of the guilt and shame. Each curve the emotion changes.
I have talked with my therapist about this exact problem. Yes, problem. So hard to think of not being “perfect”, or having a problem. Most people know they have problems, but those of us blessed with borderline personality disorder try as hard as we can to please everyone and show we are “good” people. This is because we feel guilt or believe we are”bad” and don’t want others to see.
So my therapist has me working my butt off to change all of these hindering behaviors. She wants me to see who I really am and be that person. This is daunting alone but that’s for another day.
Who am I? This question makes me hurt, makes me sick. Do people really know the answer? I have never known a life that I did know, so I truly am baffled that others know who they are as a person. I’m a mom. I’m a wife. That’s all I know. That feels sad.
The thing is, BPD (borderline personality disorder) is as simple, to me, as this: push and pull. They say it’s the “I hate you, don’t leave me” disorder. There are no truer words. I believe everyone is against me. At one curve I am begging for your love and attention. At the other, I am running and doing ANYTHING to get away from you, even if I hurt you along the way. It never ends.
So, this week? Another bad week. Another attack on my husband, who gets about 90% of them. I love him so much, but I put him through so much hell. In the moment, there is me. Only me. I only care about me, focus on me, protect me. I will throw you under a bus if I think you are going to hurt me. And everyone is going to hurt me. This is my everyday life. EVERY DAY.
I did some of the worst things to my husband. I don’t want to share all of our intimate details, but I don’t want you to wonder too much. I do want you to get a glimpse of BPD since that’s the purpose of this blog. I will give you a taste.
One small conversation that shouldn’t have been a big deal at all. Oh, but that’s not what MY brain hears. I felt judged. I felt attacked. I felt invalidated. I felt like I didn’t matter. So, in defense mode, I went. Like I always do, I turned into a demon. I throw things. Today it was a small protein drink for the kids. They weren’t right there and I didn’t throw it at them. Actually throw wasn’t a good choice of word. Sadly, I mostly just tossed it in the fridge because it was pissing me off. But throwing is my usual go to. I was so mad that I couldn’t get the damn thing to sit right in the fridge so I could slam the door and go yell and scream. So I let it drop and left to to yell and, vein pop out of my neck, scream. I remind myself of a toddler tantrum and I feel so ashamed. Ugh, I hate it. You could ask me what I said and I wouldn’t have a clue. Yet my husband does as HE was blessed with a forever and detailed memory. Making it all the more shameful.
I stood up for myself because I felt I didn’t have a choice. I was being attacked, right? It ended with me yelling and pushing away the love of my life. Now, I know this may not sound severe. It’s hard to give all detail when I struggle to even tell my therapist. But I also have to keep some privacy for my family. Let’s say I looked like one of those crazy angry people you might see on YouTube going off on someone who offended them.
I hate sharing this. It makes me want to curl up in my bed and never come out. How can I admit the fact that my kids have to deal with a crappy mom? They see me like this far too often. How can I face those I know when they see my demon side? When they see the sharp curves in my road? I paint a picture that I am fine. Most of those outside of my home (possibly outside of Daniel and my therapist?) know that side of me. It has to be someone whom I am close enough to that I feel the need to defend myself. I used to do it as a child to my family but I am too detached from them now so that’s not something that happens much.
I must say before I end this post that I do know it’s not all one sided. So many people try to remind me of that. I hear you. It truly isn’t only me. In the calm aftermath, I see the errors on both sides. But truthfully I end up embarrassed and shameful at how I over-correct the curves.
I think the thing that makes it worse for me, is that it is preventable. If just a handful of things would have been different in my younger years, this disorder wouldn’t have attached itself to me. Now I’m not going to lie, some days I don’t care. I know others have done all they can, the best they can. But other days, I rage inside with anger at the lot I’ve been dealt. The extra baggage. Did you know there is no medication for BPD? Only therapy and hard work. I am certain this feeds into my curvy road.
So, for that positive event? I said I’d try to find something joyful. Well I do know that I have a husband who, obviously, loves me. He’s tender and understanding, and FORGIVING. I have found my therapist. MY therapist. The one who gets me and walks me through the bad. She lets me text her through the bad days. Not many therapists do that. I had a glimpse of how bad I am and an outsider (or a few) were able to vouch for that. That may not sound like a positive, but when you have outside observances who are basically calling you out on your bull-shit behavior, and it opens your eyes, I call that a positive. maybe that’s the straight part of the road I need.
The Lens – Darla Rose
I feel a vulnerable pain
As though the world is staring
Into my cloud of rain
With a lens that is now blurry
.
Through this smudged lens
You can’t see the truth
It’s a view I can’t defend
Because no one can see the truth
.
People want to see
What they want to see
It doesn’t matter what I plea
The ear won’t listen
.
I scream and I yell
This is all I know how
To do to not sell
My soul to the monster
.
The lens, it sees, it magnifies
The dark secrets that I want untold
But I can’t see bright skies
I can’t choose and it feels so dark
.
The waves push me down
And hold me in the depths of the growing sea
Until I start to drown
I feel it’s strength and want it to stop
.
As with every other time
The madness fleets
And I start to be fine
At least for now
.
The sadness fades on the outside
And though I feel the pain inside
I try not to hide
From the places that rely on me
.
I move forward
Hoping the dream ends
If only I could have that reward
But my heart knows.
Roses are Red 