On the Borderline - Life With BPD

Well fuck it all, as soon as I get to the airport my flight gets delayed. I was going to miss my connecting flight and would have to spend the night in Atlanta, but I rescheduled it for tomorrow morning.

Rae isn't taking it too well. Honestly, I'm not either. I'm angry and upset and I NEED her, to breathe to live to calm down to exist to function, but I can't change it and I can only be glad that it ended up working well with her schedule. I'm a mess on the inside, and it's pretty ugly. But...

In the past, it would have been about ME. I'M upset, -I- missed my flight, it sucks for ME. But I'm far more worried about her. She's had a god-awful month without me, and I just wanted to be there with her...

I have to stop here. It seems so trivial for 'normal' people but I can't do this right now.


Eden.

...and a bottle of Carolans?

It's been a long month. I love my family, but my mood swings have been driving me up the wall and they're probably about to jump out a window. When I'm not angry, I act like a 6-year-old or worse. I actually threw a tantrum today. A stomp-on-the-ground whine and screech tantrum. Luckily only Rae saw it.

I'm looking forward to starting therapy. I don't feel like a functional human being anymore. I don't know who I am. I don't know how old I really am. Sometimes I think I'm autistic or something, my comprehension level is so low. Other times I'm convinced I'm some sort of genius.

Rae and I started a comic together. Once we get it up and running, I'll post some of the art here. The two main characters aren't modeled after us at all, but Aria ended up being BPD, so I can connect with her an awful lot more. Rae is the main writer while I'll be the artist. It was originally an on-the-spot idea to get her involved in something creative that will give her something to do that she would enjoy and work at. So far I'm the obstacle! I'm just too lazy... But it will have to stop soon, since I'm finally starting a comic class next month, as well as figure drawing and creative writing. Hooray!

Now I'm rambling. Goodnight all! And in case I'm not online again until next month- Happy New Year! <3



+ Eden.

It's been a while, again. I really have to work on updating at least a couple times a week. Rae seems super awesome excited, or as close as she can get to that, about her blog. She's using it as a healing tool- and we'll soon begin one of the hardest stages of therapy. I won't be with her physically until Wednesday night- or Thursday morning, however you see it- and she starts grieving tomorrow. I don't know what I can and can't post on here in regards to her therapy and her story, so I'll let you read it on her blog, which can be found here.

I came home for winter break about a month ago; despite being an adult, I'm not yet very independent from my parents emotionally or financially, so I haven't been able to spend a break with my Rae yet. But I'm hoping to take her on a trip for spring break. c: We'll see. In any case, I hadn't been home for very long when I learned that, actually, I'm somewhat of a horrible person. Which explains why my sister never talks to me.

She told me about many, many fights, which my parents corroborated, in which I called her and/or my parents horrible names, I screamed at them, I snapped at them, I was a rude little snot at best and a demon at worst. And the best part is that I don't remember any of these. I felt terrible, naturally, and when I tried to pull my dad aside and apologize for telling him I never wanted to come home again after graduation (I'd never say that...) I broke down pretty badly.

Only a little bit after that, I had a bad day and Rae caught the brunt of it in an argument that stemmed from a miscommunication. It didn't last long, though. Luckily it hardly ever does. (I think one of our longest fights recently was Christmas but it ended in both of us feeling bad about it and we went to sleep sorry but not fighting.)

So the tl;dr version is that my BPD symptoms are worse than I thought. I start therapy the first week of January and I also have a follow-up with my psychiatrist...s. I apparently have a small team or something. In any case, my goal right now is to enjoy my New Year's with my fiance. My second goal is to get a letter from my therapist and/or psychiatrist saying that I can't live with people so that my school will let me out of the housing agreement and I can get my own place. I can't stay at the dorms anymore. Especially not the freshman we're-all-monkeys-and-can't-use-an-elevator-without-breaking-it-repeatedly 17 going on 12 year olds.

Also I got a haircut and the end.


+ Eden.

Today I learned that pigs scream like humans. ._. I guess I used to be what I call a chronic vegetarian- I was vegetarian for 7 years, ate some meat, switched back, and quit. (My dad's Argentinian-meat Venezuelan-style barbecue is the BEST.) And now I'm pretty sure I'm permanently vegetarian and maybe somewhat vegan.

I probably won't be too strict on this but dear holy flying spaghetti monster I will never get that screaming out of my head again.

In other news, I may be somewhat of a masochist? Maybe? I have to be doing some form of self-harming behavior at all times. It's subconscious but true. If I don't have cigarettes I'm chugging white vinegar soup until I'm sick and I've almost got a hole in my stomach (true story- repeatedly). If I don't have that then I'm cutting myself (I've been 'non-SI' for months now though. Go me!). If I don't have THAT recourse then I'm overeating to the point where I don't even enjoy food anymore. I haven't been hungry in days and I STILL can't stop eating. If I'm not eating then I'm biting my nails until they bleed. And if I'm not biting my nails I'm smoking a cigarette.

So far the cigarettes are the least harmful (at least short-term) and I really really wish I could get some already. I haven't had one in 6 1/2 days and I've already done the vinegar thing twice, my nails hurt (I'm trying to grow them out since my bestest best friend is taking me out for a manicure as an Xmas gift) and I can't. Stop. Eating.

Note: My dad says eating fruit makes you not gain weight. I hope it's true. I don't want to be fat unless I'm happy eating.



+ Eden.

Now that I not-quite-officially have ADD- and more importantly, now that I have an adderall prescription- life makes just that tiny bit more sense. Although I've suspected ADD for a long time, my therapists never gave it any thought. Of course, they were probably far more concerned with the many, many other symptoms and indicators and behaviorisms and all; ADD can seem pretty minor compared to all of that. But hey, college is college, and ADD or not, there is plenty of work to do- especially here at art school, where your grade depends not on memorization and formulas but on how many hours of sleep you trade for getting those Conte portrait perfect and oh no the paint isn't mixing right it's not toned enough I forgot to use the dioxazine purple!

Anyway. Right this very moment, I am... severely unfocused. I haven't been able to hold on to a single thought consistently. I am sleepy and irritable (the latter for no real reason except the final projects are due in a few days and my back is KILLING me). I think the biggest reason the distractedness and lack of focus is bothering me is because of the adderall.

Because for the first time in my entire life, I felt like I was truly awake. I'm usually too tired to do ANYthing, and for no reason at all. And... I was AWAKE. For almost 48 hours, in fact. But the adderall kills my appetite completely so I decided to crash and eat when I woke up.

But right yes so. Awake. And not as easily distracted. In one night, I redid one of my projects from scratch and was able to not only make it look GOOD, but I got more done than the past 4 WEEKS that I have been working on it for. I solved a big problem with one of my other assignments. I did my part of a group project in less than half an hour, when it would have taken me a day to "get around to finishing it" otherwise. My mood improved. I was motivated to do everything I had to get done- and I GOT IT DONE. It's just... I can't even describe the feeling. I can't.

I'm not taking it until later today, mostly because I took more than I'm used to in order to pull an all-nighter and also because I just started taking it like, what, a week or two ago, and I don't want to feel dependent on it already. Even if, in a way, I am. It's not that I omgneedittofocusandlivemylife, but I can't focus on anything without it. I can't wake up completely, I don't want to get up and take a walk and do laundry and work on my painting and mix my colors and fix my portraits and study for my anthropology and oh yeah I have that appointment in an hour and a half and oh no I forgot to do work I won't get paid...

I didn't realize how bad it was until now...


Eden.

Three posts in one day, dear God.

So, this is a post about my drawing professor. I don't want to go into any detail just in case someone from my school can read this, don't burn your bridges and all that, but I need to get this out.

My professor, let's call him G just because I can, is supposedly the best X-Drawing professor in the school. He's teaching just regular old drawing, not drawing I but a bit above that. He's really passionate about what he's doing, and he's damn good at it, too. I fully admit that the man has experience and talent and he's probably worked his ass off to get that good and then to be able to teach his passion to students at a prestigious art school.

But the man drives me nuts. The drawing class has turned into an X-drawing class, he will tell me I'd doing amazingly well and then give me a B and tell me "you really need to do better than this. ...Unless you're happy with a B, I guess." He goes off on tangents that don't end up teaching us anything we need to know and I still think I need to be taught drawing x before I can do x-drawing.

The biggest and primary reason that I am not very fond of him right now is that I had a bad panic attack in his class and he would not let me leave. He argued with me for some time about how I need to try harder and how I won't be able to "pay off loans" unless I stayed. And as a BPDer, I have a VERY hard time letting go of grudges and especially seeing people in shades of grey- so from that moment on, in my eyes, he became an evil man.

In the end, I grabbed my stuff and left, called my counselor upset (but was unable to get an appointment until the next week so I emailed her about it), and I also talked about the incident with someone whose only job is to mediate between students and professors and smooth over problems, as well as take complaints anonymously. They took it seriously, told me that next time if it happens in that class I should just leave without a word, and that if there were any further problems to tell them. I never mentioned Professor G's name though, and now that it's been a couple of weeks I've been able to cool off about it.

That, and after talking with him about my current project, I think I've figured out (7 weeks late...) how to get valuable criticism and advice from him by asking very specific questions and drilling him until he can't be vague.

Well, Professor... U, let's say, is one of the best drawing professors at my school, period. There's a huge waiting list to get into his classes and they fill up immediately. But I've run into him a few times, he's familiar with some of my work, and he even helped me out a bit in Drawing I when my professor was late due to car trouble and I didn't know what I was doing.

I ran into him (on the way to pick up my adderall, in fact) and after I expressed a bit of unease in G's class, Professor U told me to just be patient, to take his X-drawing class next quarter, and that he really was the best of the best. (I didn't complain about him, mind you. I am almost 22 years old and complaining to teachers about their colleagues is childish and could cost you some serious networking!)

Well, you'd better believe that as soon as I went home I changed my X-drawing class for Professor G's. I don't think G dislikes me, per se, so I'm hoping it goes well next quarter. If not I'll just blame Professor U. :p

By the way... I was having a quick talk with another professor about a project, and in her office, which she shares with drawing professors, I found a book that I happen to own and love- An Atlas of Anatomy for Artists, by Fritz Schnider. It is an amazing book for anyone looking to improve their human figures, as it presents bones, muscles, and all sorts of information in a way that is specifically for artists' use. I definitely recommend at least looking for it at a bookstore (Waldenbooks, if there's any still around, as well as Border's tend to stock it everywhere) and flipping through the pages.

I... need to stop with the long posts don't I...

Enjoy,


+Eden.

Okay, this has nothing to do with BPD, but it's my blog so there. :p

I recently read another Terry Pratchett book (he is by far my favorite author), and I have to add this in there! Reaper Man is part of his famous Discworld series (no need to read them in order so get started! XD ). The storyline is about my favorite character, DEATH. He is pretty much forced into retirement, which causes some mayhem on Discworld as people who are supposed to die don't really quite make it that far, including a wizard named Windle, who is by far ready to leave his mortal coil. Er, disc. Something.

Terry Pratchett books are a work of genius because not only is the writing style superb, hilarious, and surprisingly easy to read while still being massively intelligent, the content itself is always amazing. His books are almost always satirical, and his characters very realistic and easy to relate to.

In Thief of Time (my first and favorite book by him), the theme is about time and individuality, as well as conformity and what's normal. It also makes fun of the educational system and mental illness. In Small Gods he handles the tough subject of religion versus belief, as well as corruption and sticking to your guns, so to speak. In Mort the book focused on love, how you shouldn't always interfere with things, and somewhat about growing up and making something out of yourself.

The best part is that these subjects are all somewhat hidden behind the story itself, which is always hilarious. I may be reading too much into the books but for once, I doubt it.

Aaaand that's my post on Terry Pratchett, author extraordinaire. Now go read a book!


+Eden

I haven't posted in this blog in a long while, this must end.

In any case, a lot has happened since my last post... (Scroll down for tl;dr version!)

1. I was finally able to get a psychiatric evaluation yesterday. I made the appointment a month and a half ago for two weeks ago, but they lost (!) my appointment and weren't able to fit me in until yesterday, mostly due to my class schedule (all over the place!). It's also kind of far, requiring a long bus trip and a bit of a walk to get there, but I made it happen. I thought the appointment was at 10am, so I woke up at dawn to be able to get there by 9am. When I finally got there, after having to ask directions, I looked at my appointment card... 11am. Eden was not happy. Eden sat outside smoking her Camel menthol and talking with a 54-year-old man for half an hour. It was surprisingly interesting, as long as I ignored his feeble but not-creepy advances. We talked about how Rae is the most gorgeous creature alive. I can talk about THAT for hours!

After waiting, I was finally in. After I realized it was only an intake I admit I got pretty upset- I had been hoping to see a psychiatrist for some adderall because my focus has been shot for months. Do you know the feeling you get when you're paying close attention to your professor's lecture or demo, and then blink and realize you've missed everything they've said because you got lost in your own world? Yeah, it's jarring and upsetting after a while. We covered my suicidal thoughts, often overwhelming urges to SI, my delusional thought process, my ADD symptoms, my OCD symptoms, depression, manias, rape nightmares, everything. There were two funny parts- when he had to list all the medications I've been on and decided to just write "See List" to save time, for example, as well as the cardinal that kept trying to peck his way into the window for the entire hour I was there. (Rae thinks he might have been rabid. I believe it.)

SO anyway, the intake guy agreed that I need to see a doctor right away. But even after he spoke with the receptionist, the earliest I could get in was in a month- and by then I'd be done with this quarter and probably with Rae's family for Thanksgiving or back home with mine for Christmas. HOWEVER, I got lucky and they told me to wait until 1pm to see if the doctor could fit me in.

So Eden had another smoke break. This time with a successful 27-year-old restaurant owner currently in detox. (Good for him!) And more talking about Rae, of course.

Back into the counseling building. After a while I did, indeed, get in to see the doctor. I spoke with him for a while (I speak softly and he's hard of hearing but it went well). He immediately prescribed me some adderall and sent me on my way.

I'll pass over the next few hours, which basically entailed me trying to get the prescription filled in three different places. Apparently some counseling places won't fill narcotics prescriptions if you're over 18, how inconvenient. I even got The Talk from the doctor about how I need to be careful with college students stealing my adderall but since I don't have a history of drug abuse I was cleared.

I got back just long enough to register for next quarter a few hours late (we have time tickets, I don't know how it works in other schools). Then eventually I made it back to my dorm for good- at around 5:30-6pm. Needless to say I missed a make-up class but I'll talk about that guy later.

This morning is my first try with the adderall. It may just be a placebo effect but I'm already feeling pretty good. For the first time since I moved here, I climbed up 4 flights of stairs and didn't even want to count the steps- when I tried to I didn't get far. I feel pretty clear-headed and as you can tell, I've even been able to write this long post, only pausing one time to check e-mail. Normally I'd take an hour to write my old, short posts, so I'm pretty hopeful. I've also sent two important emails instead of getting distracted by Facebook or anything else. Today I have a ton of homework and I'm sure I'll be able to get it done for once!

Eden is pleased.

(If this post is way too boring and someone's managed to read it this far, let me know please! XD )

Moving on...

2. Rae has moved down to live near me, and as soon as I'm able to move out of the dorm we will be able to get our own place (looking at Spring). Obviously I am very excited about this and I can't wait for it to happen! I had a college friend of mine tell me just a few days ago that she really admires "how slow" Rae and I are taking our relationship. I suppose compared to many, we seem to be taking our time- but in what we call "our time," we're not moving fast enough! Although BPDers tend to jump into a relationship, make it passionate and intense, and then burn out quickly and move on, I am definitely committed to this for good. I just wish we could be together now, but I suppose I can be patient until then. Good things come to those who hurry it up and Spring is as soon as it can be done. She's found a job and has another one lined up, so money isn't as much of an issue anymore. And her grades are pretty good now so she should be able to transfer to a nearby college in Winter or Spring. -excited-

TL;DR VERSION:

I'm on Adderall. Rae is living nearby and we're moving in together soon.

Thanks for reading!!


+ Eden

I am pathetic.

I have a well-paying, easy job. I work from home, whenever I feel like it. I get a mild reminder if I don't do my work for a while. I don't pay bills. I don't want for anything at all.

I complain anyway.

But I'm only human.

Why yes, I am smoking. It is delicious.

There are lots of bad habits. Smoking, nose-picking, nail-biting, belching (in a restaurant), chronic masturbation, dating underaged girls, boys, or both, laughing too loud, slurping soup, slurping soda, cracking inappropriate jokes in public, worrying too much about others' opinions, not caring about what other people think about you, and so on.

So yes, I am smoking. And it is delicious.

Anyone can draw. Drawing is a matter of looking at an object and putting it down on paper. The hard part is looking at something that’s not in front of you and seeing it clearly enough to draw it. Of course, technique plays a part- the right materials, line quality, tones, etcetera for the subject you are trying to convey. Perspective, contours, and so on. But it can be learned.

Today I wondered what it would be like to drown. It wasn’t an urge or a wish, though, so I know I am getting better a day at a time. It was never made clear, at least when I was reading it in class, whether or not Ophelia meant to die.

Today marks about three weeks since I stopped taking the Lamictal.

Feel free to scroll down to the end for a summary.

So I feel.... awesome. (Note the sarcasm.) I've been crying, I feel trapped and suffocated, I'm playing with daydreams of suicide and self-mutilation again. I'm tired of Lamictal and doctors and workbooks that offer suggestions such as "buy a CD of bird sounds and light pretty candles!"

I prefer drawing dead birds and burning things.

I made the mistake of reading about horrific child-crimes in China- there's been a wave of crazy people murdering elementary schoolers while they're in class, or hacking children to death with meat cleavers- and it reminded me that I hate people. No wonder I'm a shut-in, for every nice stranger I meet there's a creepy stalker (of which I've had more than my fair share), a spoiled brat teenager, a stereotype...

One of my friends is driving me nuts, I can't decide if I love my parents or I want to run away, money troubles are stressing me out, I juuust came out of a made-up reality bubble I built oh so carefully as a child and I've been thrust unwillingly, kicking and screaming, into a horrible "real world" against my will by well-meaning therapists and medications.

The Lamictal, which I thought was my wonder-drug, seems to just be masking my actual anger under the pretense of getting rid of "irrational mood swings" and it seems to be taking away my ability to be myself or stand up for myself when my parents, who I know love me very much, irritate me or treat me like a five-year-old.

I'm too scared to tell them I started smoking (as I've mentioned 13432 times already on here). I feel like they make too many of my decisions, despite my being 21. They tell me I'm just rebelling or trying to spite them whenever I'm in a bad mood or do something they don't like, like when I was planning to move in with my girlfriend this year (which fell through because of changing school plans and money issues) or to stay in a hotel because her parents refused to let me stay in any of their spare rooms.

I want to go see my girlfriend again for our anniversary (only 6 months, but it feels like it's been so much longer) and instead of being happy that I'm so excited about it, they think it's too soon for a second visit (a month later, and the only time I can see her before college), or start in on how I need to earn money for books and art supplies and don't have much room for plane tickets. And on and on...

I know other people are worse off than I am, I really do. But I can't feel guilty or unreasonable when I realize that it's MY life and it's affecting ME.

I used to draw and paint and make jewelry and write stories and poetry. Now I sit in my room and cry and avoid people.

It's this place I guess. I live in a huge city but there's nothing to do without money and I hate the people around here. I was so, so happy when I was with my girlfriend and her friends, or even just by myself there while everyone was busy. I got back here and within two days was back to my depressed self. Now that I've had a taste of real happiness, the pure, unadulterated LIFE IS AMAZING feeling, I can't be satisfied with settling for "not as depressed as usual."

tl;dr: I am depressed.

When I was in high school, I had to take summer classes to make up for classes replaced by art during the regular school year (due to an art magnet program). One summer I took World History Honors. As a project, I wrote a report on Miyamoto Musashi. Born into a samurai family, Musashi would dedicate his life to mastering a unique swordfighting style and would become one of- if not the- best warriors in history. He fought in 6 battles, 2 of them the bloodiest in Japanese history- the battle at Osaka, and the battle of Sekigahara. He fought and won 60 duels and never lost; losing meant death in those days. He died at 63 (I believe) of stomach cancer and produced one of the greatest works in history- the Book of Five Rings. It is a bible for businessmen and every day life, being used in all aspects of daily life now that the age of the warrior is over.

I was watching a documentary with my parents, a 2 hour special called "Samurai" on the History channel. I expected it to be a history on the warriors, not a spiritually enlightening journey as Mark Dacascos, a martial artist and host of Iron Chef America, follows the life and journey of Musashi himself- from his birthplace, his greatest duels, his battles, and finally, where he died.

What you have to understand is that Musashi was not just a swordsman. His book was written as a sort of compilation of everything he had learned; a lesson on life, so to speak. It was written as a way to live; not for killing, but for honing the mind, disciplining oneself, and overcoming all obstacles.

Watching this and remembering not only what I had learned before but also recognizing places I had been to and remembering what I had experienced, I realized a lot about myself as a person.

I truly have a long journey ahead of me to become what I want to become. it is not a discouraging thought, but an empowering one. I have so much to look forward to, so much untapped potential. What I lack is self-discipline. I lack confidence. I lack mental clarity.

I can start to just go on about my faults, but that would just be me complaining again. I must learn to focus not on my faults, but how to improve them. I've been wrong all along- admitting one's faults is more detrimental to my own well-being, instead of being the first step to my own spiritual and mental growth.

For most people, it would be different. For most people, they are already well on their way to maturity; many people my age are already set in life. But I am not most people.

BPD does not define me. I am not my disorder; I am not my symptoms, nor am I my faults. But I DO have this. I DO have to learn to live with it and control it, and not let it control me. I DO have to take control of my own actions and learn how to have a healthy mind.

It will be difficult, I think. Not just because of BPD, but because many of the learned behaviors will be hard to unlearn and be replaced. For example, how to console myself and not seek a fix from others. How to think clearly and not make impulsive decisions. How to regulate my emotions, rationalize, and not be oversensitive and easily hurt. How to know when someone is joking or meaning one thing without taking it as a different, hurtful meaning.

And the two biggest things:

I have to draw and write, every day, ignoring my limitations until I overcome them.

And I have to take Rae to Japan with me.


Eden.

Needy tonight. Like I'm empty but overflowing and need someone to hold me together. My girlfriend finally was able to get a job after months of trying and she began today; she has to get up at 5am or so and I just want to wake her up so she can talk to me. I did already but made her go back to sleep.

I can't sleep. My room is hot and cold, my hands feel sticky (pet peeve). I'm thirsty and couldn't stop eating all day, trying to fill the emptiness. No wonder I've gained weight lately. I'm still underweight but feel fat, which is a new feeling for me.

I want my girlfriend's attention but I know she NEEDS sleep. She needs this job.

The nagging thoughts are back, 'stupid girl, kill yourself, she's too good for you,' yadda yadda. Whatever, thoughts.

-sigh- I don't like this.

Lately I've been obsessing over this and another (unrelated) forum. I don't get much human contact anymore and if I do in person I freak out nowadays. No wonder I'm so alone... especially since both forums can't constantly be updating. (other) People have lives.

I've been having odd thoughts lately, which make sense to me but all at the same time I know are strange.

Some are influenced by things happening or read or heard- like when I was re-reading the Battle Royale manga and had to stop because I was scared shitless that someone was trying to kill me.

Others are passing thoughts I grab onto, sometimes caused by tricks of the light... like on my swing in front of the lake, facing the sunrise, I've been watching the sun melt into the lake. It's real to me, it makes sense, it's a reality... but at the same time I can tell it's not normal.

Something that bothers me is when I grab a word I hear or think, sometimes a sentence, and count the words, strokes (to write it), rearrange the letters into patterns, add punctuation and spaces to add characters if I don't like the number it equals (I have a phobia of six)... it's exhausting and drives me NUTS. It's worse than counting steps when I walk, distributing the steps equally between left and right unless I'm mad at one.

Lately I have been hearing a thought. It's not quite mine, since I think in abstract (unless I'm fixating on a word and picking it apart, repeating it, making it into patterns in my head). Well, it's more a group of thoughts.

Useless girl, worthless girl, stupid girl, wasting everyone's time, why are you bothering, be silent, you're embarrassing yourself, just die, kill yourself, your words are useless, stop hurting Rae, you're getting FAT, stop eating so much... (I'm underweight as it is.)

Or the scariest, "There will be retribution."

If I do anything to my Rae that starts the words, like a sharp comment or a BPD moment that makes her worry, or forgetting something important- lately it's been reading comics while she's talking and not noticing when she speaks- then it's "there will be retribution. Punishment. She should leave you, she's too good to you, don't deserve it stupid girl, punishment."

I will make myself refuse food. I will give myself a headache. Make myself sick. Plan to hurt myself (but i promised Rae I wouldn't, so I don't, despite the voice turning into a RAGING screaming).

I've been getting an awful lot of headaches lately, from the screaming.


Eden.

It's early, but my lovely insomniac Rae is already asleep. Just a quick nap, we said, and then we can spend more time together. It's all through Skype, long-distance pain and longing and missing, but worth every pixel. But this post is not about her (for now). It is, as usual, about Me. You see, I need to clarify a few things.

1. According to Borderlines and "Nons" I have met online, Borderlines are more often than not cruel and uncaring. We manipulate to our own ends, and we like it. Most are abusive on the outside. In my case, I have always been a meek, kind, friendly Me, prone to turning my anger inward at myself. It was not until my therapist pointed this last fact out that I have started snapping at people. And yes, I am manipulative. I can make anyone love me, want to be my friend, do anything for me. The only times that I have consciously gone out of my way not to do so has been with my Rae- and I do indeed consider her Mine. Mine to love, cherish, treat like a queen. I don't have much practice in actually honestly loving someone, though I have believed myself to be in love before, but I like to think I am learning. At first, I showed my affection through care packages and letters. Now I am learning to be kind through actions, words, questions about her day and how she feels instead of just talking about me all the time. Speaking of which...

2. We are, generally, terribly selfish. Deeply so. In fact, I spend most of my time talking about myself, my problems, my worries and depression and illness, and even complaining that all I do is whine about myself- I honestly do not know how or WHY Rae tolerates this as much as she does. We did get into an argument about it yesterday (or was it the day before?) but I am working on being less self-centered.

3. I am a fake. A fraud. I have no history of trauma or abuse. I never had much reason to cut myself, except that I felt empty and invisible and nonexistent as far back as I can remember. I have the emotional age of a toddler. Why, I may never know. Maybe someday. But I do know that compared to most people with BPD- even compared with my Rae- I am an impostor of the worst kind.

4. I seem to be doing much worse, much too quickly. In the span of a month- no, maybe only a couple of weeks- I have been having terrible mood swings, irritability, aggression, delusions, temporary psychotic breaks, triggers to cut and hurt myself, suicidal thoughts and urges... I may be a fake, but my disease is not.

Can a fake with a real problem ever be normalized?



Eden.

I have really never been reacted to in a negative way, or at least not hostile- not for being gay, and not for BPD. Until recently. I belong to a support forum where a rather nasty poster who hates us all because of her one ex decided to bash us instead of seeking much-needed THERAPY.

I am not happy.


Eden

A bit like a bitch today. I don't care about most people. I don't. I just want what I want, when I want it, and what does it matter to me if someone gets cast aside? Keep up or GTFO.

At the same time, people who say something like "I wish I had your disorder" (a narcissist personality referring to DID) can go fucking die in a fire. Slowly. And alone.

Dr. Q gave me a low dose of Abilify (to cut down) and started me on Lamictal- 2 weeks 25mg, 2 weeks 50mg, and then on to 100mg. I was informed that DBT was a good idea, and that I should never have children because of the high risk of postpartum depression. While he thinks I would do well in DBT, my therapist has no idea what it is, has barely heard of it, and told me I'm not really fully borderline and that I should to go DBT.

Mood: Conflicted.


Also bought this workbook; will look through it and start on it soon.



Eden.

Although Dr. W doesn't seem to know much about DBT, I asked her if she'd refer me and she agreed to. There is a place about 45 minutes away that offers it. Far, yes, but not too expensive.

I've agreed, also, to stay with Dr. Q temporarily. On a trial basis, as it were. I am changing medicines and ending the Abilify. I am hoping for Lamictal, a mood stabilizer that seems to have the shortest list of side effects. (They aren't very serious, either.) Compared to Risperdal and Geodon, this seems more effective for mood stabilizing. Seeing as it is a mood stabilizer and not another anti-psychotic.

Oh shit Dr. Q is TODAY... ugh. Better take a clonazopam. Crazy fucking shrink.

....Excuse my French.



Eden.

Am I here? Do I exist? I don't think I do, right now. Rae is gone for the weekend, I'm home alone, nobody's online. I have just enough presence to realize I'm hungry and to type about it.

I am floating in nothing with an imaginary body in an imaginary world. Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real. nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is eal nothign si real nothing is real

At least I imagined a perfect girlfriend.




Eden?

Dear ****,

I keep having a ton of dreams where we fight. Like, really, really go at it. After about two solid weeks of this I need to email you.

I really miss you and I am so, so proud of all the work you've been doing! We saw your portfolio and Mami sometimes shows me photos you text her (can you text them to me too?) and they look amazing!

To be honest, I'm scared about a lot of things lately. It turns out my disorder makes me seem like a bad person. And it gets much, much worse before it gets better. Most people never 'recover.' It causes a lot of problems.

Please read this over when you get the chance: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/16/health/16brod.html?_r=2&em

I'd send you a book but you're waaay too busy to read it.

BPD means I'm emotionally unstable all the time. I'm dependent on people. I have no sense of self (when I'm alone I don't exist). I start fights because I don't want you to abandon me, so I'd rather shove you away before you can do it to me. I think I did a damn good job, wouldn't you agree? We hardly ever talk at all and I know it's more than half my fault.

I try to text you more often but it's too late- you're too busy with school and I'm not as important anymore. You call mami and daddy and they never tell me, so I never get to talk to you on the phone. I miss you so much...

I'm getting a lot of therapy. I'm becoming someone you would really like. I wish I'd gotten it earlier so this wouldn't have happened.

I love you.



Eden.

Eden hasn't updated in a few days, so I figured I'd speak up for her. A lot has been going on recently - bouts of depression, anger, worthlessness - the typical mood swings for her lately. I've been doing my best to help her feel like she's not just complaining all the time and to help her see that I genuinely want to know what's going on, even if it comes out as "whining."

She went back to 1mg of Abilify today, thankfully. She seemed to be much better. She drew something and crafted a few things. We had an overall good day today. She's having a little trouble right now though. Apparently her mood swings are getting pretty bad and she's having a hard time being around her family. She's watching 2012 with them (so jealous. x_x) and helping with dinner. I love that her family is so involved in her life. She really has an amazing support system at home, even if her parents don't always pay attention or understand what she's trying to tell them. They love her almost as much as I do, which says something because I can't breathe without the girl.

Anyways, I'm hoping for an improvement soon. Maybe decreasing the Abilify again will make things a little better for her. We're super anxious about finding out if she's going to college this month (SCAD, by the way. My baby's brilliant). She said if she doesn't go, she'll come visit me! :D I am happy with either one because both are beneficial to her well-being. Though, I admit, I'm a titch selfish and want her to come up here, but I really won't complain if she can't. Education should be the main priority for both of us. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.

And I don't mean any awareness days here. Today I had an interesting situation when in a sudden burst of clarity, I was able to see just how sick I am, how serious my BPD is compared to what I thought it was. It scared me so bad that I immediately fogged back up to "maybe nothing's wrong me me lalala."

I don't think I'm in denial. I mean, I could be, I can't be 100% certain I'm not, but I admit there is a problem and that it isn't trivial. But part of me- a bigger part- says that maybe it'll just go away. It whispers that I don't belong on medication as strong as Abilify. It hisses that I'm an idiot for thinking of inpatient hospitals. It purrs that I'm fine.

It lies.


Eden.

I learned that BPD causes instability with hobbies, plans, and activities as well as with people. This explains my 999,999,999 abandoned projects; my excitement at the beginning of something and my consequent disinterest. I have so many comics I want to do... as an artist, drawing is my life. I cannot get better if I keep having periods where I give up ideas and practice...

I'm scared shitless.


Eden.

According to Psychology Today, there are several types of Non-BPs, or those without Borderline Personality Disorder that interact with Borderlines: the Non-reactive Non-BP, who isn't drawn into the "chaos of the disorder," and the Reactive Non-BP, who engages BPD behavior in the Borderline...

This often throws the person off-center, and promotes a kind of parallel emotional dysregulation within them. The Reactive relationship style breaks down into two distinct sub-styles; transpersonal, or the trans-Borderline, and counter-personal, or the counter-Borderline.

The trans-Borderline is an individual who engages the Borderline character, and is drawn only to the chaos of the disorder itself. Rather, than being directly affected, s/he is more apt to stay focused on "cleaning up" after the Borderline personality. This is something akin to the "caretaker/enabler" role found in alcoholic relationships. In both cases, this person is characteristically co-dependent, or set up to be co-dependent in that relationship. S/he acts as enabler, or agent, or both.

The counter-Borderline, on the other hand, not only reacts to and integrates the Borderline style, but "reflects" it, as well. This individual is the most negatively affected by his/her relationship to the Borderline personality. Very often, this person will begin to behave in a manner very similar to a person with a Borderline personality. This type of relationship is very treacherous and, when talking about chaotic relationships with Borderline personalities, this is the sort of situation to which most people are referring. This type of relationship often leaves the Non-BP questioning his/her own sanity, and the "emotional hangover" of such a relationship can take a considerable amount of time from which to recover.

So now that Oph- sorry, Emily is here, Rae has more than enough to worry about; she has to deal with her usual problems (worse than mine) and now also care for a 7-year-old child. Emily's been coloring and playing online Nick Jr. games for a while. I wish Rae were here. I miss her, I'm not attached to the child yet. I just feel depressed and angry and I can't draw at all today, which makes me want to scream and cry. I'm a horrible girlfriend and an even worse friend, at least today.

I have to be stronger; stop complaining all the time. Rae has enough problems without me forcing mine onto her. I suppose that's what a blog is for.


Eden.

It was Rae and my 3 month anniversary yesterday. Our official one anyway; we've been unofficially together for about 7 months now. We had a bad day but it wasn't either of our faults- she had a manic episode and I was depressed because of medication issues.

Today I got a bit of a shock; imagine my surprise when Rae gave way to a 7-year-old! I named her Ophelia (she doesn't like that name). She's sweet enough, she was scared of me at first. I don't know how long she's been in there but it explains why Rae's been extra sensitive lately, according to Laia.

In any case, I'm bracing myself and getting ready to talk to the girl the next time she comes out.

Meanwhile, I'm not sure how my dose issue is going... Dr. Q ran out of 2mg samples and they cost $445 for 30 pills. Just... no. So my dad used his magical math powers to cut 5mgs into 2mg pills. After Dr. Q gives me enough for a few months I'm switching to a new psychiatrist. Dr. W gave me a name, I'll check him out. He works with children and lectures, she said, but he listens.

I've been moodier than usual; I'm hungry all. the. time; my dad told me to eat fruit since I'm so scared to gain too much weight. I pick fights more easily and I'm both clingier and more abrasive. I feel smothered more easily. I really, really hope I can go to college next month- we'll find out in a week.


Eden.

Found on this blog. Excerpts:

Usually I am given one "difficult" client to work with as case manager. But we've been short-staffed, so I have seven clients in all, and even though most of them are Level 3, which means they need to be seen only once a month and function relatively independently, I am kept more busy by case management than by what I came to do. Today I met with a client new to me, a young woman whose primary diagnosis is Borderline Personality Disorder. Look it up. Borderlines are the clients who make therapists roll their eyes and shiver. In sum, they feel that they have no existence unless someone is paying attention to them, so they demand an extraordinary amount of time and focus, requiring the therapist or anyone else who deals with them to be strongly vigilant about boundaries. If I didn't have six other clients I would be more eager to deal with Sally. It's hard to love a borderline because they take so much out of you, but right now I am still able to see how much in pain and doubt she is every day of her life and to feel for her.

Also:

Some weeks ago I said that it had been helpful for me to hear from my mentor that you can deal better with people diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder (I refuse to capitalize "disorder") if you think of them as four-years-old. That was seen as insulting to some people. I believe, however, that people like Sally suffer from being emotionally arrested at about age four. Often, they are unable to really sustain being alone, and have an exaggerated sense of being alone and abandoned, as they are likely to have been as children. As a woman, Sally is certainly intelligent, presents herself well, is attractive, and is much more capable of sustaining herself independently than are most of our clients. But she has enormous emotional needs that can never be completely fulfilled. I don't know how much positive effect I can have with her, but I am glad to be given another chance at it. I like her, and care about her, whether she believes that or not.

Well, as insulting as it is, I truly DO believe that I am emotionally stunted. How unnerving to hear it from a counselor's point of view!


Eden.

♥ First of all, thank you Rae for your post! I love you! ♥

Second of all, the point of this post: Holding Down a Job. It is well known among the mental health professionals and BPD sufferers that Borderlines cannot hold down a regular job. I'm honestly not sure of the statistics but mood swings, anxiety attacks, bouts of psychosis, and too many "mental health days" often get people let go- or they quit for arbitrary reasons. "The boss looked at me weird," "I think my coworkers don't like me," "I'm too depressed to go in and work every day," and so on.

In my case, I work from home, and for my father. And YES, it's a Real Job, and Hard Work- I work in pricing, web content, blogging, some SEO (amateurish but effective as of yet), and so on. I get paid pretty well for someone who lives at home and never goes out. But if it weren't for my boss being my dad, I would have long since been fired.

x I work strange hours; sometimes less than the minimum, sometimes double it.
x I don't always do my work on time.
x I take too many mental health days.
x I don't go into the office (my dad always brought home my paycheck until we started direct deposit last week).

So my point is, yes, it can be hard to hold a stable job- hence why I never tried to get another job. Also I have a fear of people but that's a different post.


Eden.

I think it's time I say something. First off, my name is Rae. Eden is my wonderful, amazing girlfriend whom I love very much. And yes...she has BPD. It causes a lot of things to happen inside her head that I don't fully understand all the time and I can be insensitive and uncooperative when she needs me to be the exact opposite. Especially lately. We're quite a pair...she has BPD and I have DID, both severe personality disorders. But somehow we manage to make things work wonderfully. Usually.

Over the 7 months that I have known her, Eden has never had a very stable sense of self or demeanor. She fluctuates constantly between emotions and takes on life and she's dependent on her parents and me. I don't see it as a huge problem because she's just now learning how to be her own independent person, but she's right...it's not the healthiest thing for her. She tells me a lot that she's afraid of rejection and abandonment, especially from me. Some people would call it controlling, but I don't see it that way. I see it as her opening up to me and trying to help me understand a little of what's going on in that head of hers; especially since I would never do either of those things to her.

Sometimes she snaps at me, sometimes I'm a "mean horrible person". Sometimes we simply misunderstand each other and fight for like 20 minutes. But don't get me wrong. It's not like that all the time. In fact, most of the time, she is an extremely loving, sweet, and giving girlfriend. I honestly couldn't ask for a better match. I'm just as dynamic in my thinking patterns as she is and we really make an amazing team when we put our heads together.

I admit that I can be careless and sometimes downright insulting without knowing that I'm hurting her feelings or making her angry or upset. Most of the time she tells me and I apologize profusely, but I know that if I were anyone else, she wouldn't hear it. Lucky me. c:  (Not sarcasm.)

I can see that she has trouble on a day to day basis and it frightens me sometimes because she says it's getting worse and I can't help her. I'm not around enough to give her the emotional support she needs (I live in Va, she's roughly 11 hours out of my reach). I don't know how to offer advice when nothing comes out right and all I really know to do is listen and try to help her understand what's happening, even when I'm not sure what it is either. It's always stop and go, push and pull, leave - no wait. I admit it's hard on me sometimes, but I would never give up on her. I believe that she can get better; just have to find what works, first. I have faith in her and I know she's a strong enough woman to overcome this outstanding obstacle. I believe in her.

-Rae

I bought this book soon after I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (December 2009). I researched it before I bought it, having little in the way of expendable income. The original version of this book was called "I Hate you, Don't Leave Me". The prior version had a less than optimistic outcome for anyone with BPD or anyone whose loved one suffered from it; Sometimes I Act Crazy is much more upbeat; BPD is cast in a realistic light but never a pessimistic one. The only thing I don't like is the excessive case studies; though they are reportedly true life examples, I find myself skipping ahead. Other than that, this is a very informative book on the subject and I really recommend it!




Eden.

Enjoy.


Eden.

Today went about as I expected. Dr. W came in later than usual but I had a list. (This is the perfect thing for therapy- make a list about what you want to cover in that session!!) I told her about the fiasco with Dr. Q (detailed below); about the friction burns- she was unhappy about that but didn't freak out at me; I told her about the possibility of college in 4 weeks instead of September as well. She says college would be the perfect way for me to gain a sense of self, something I am severely lacking, as well as independence (also a struggle).

She did give me a handout for an interesting mood regulation strategy where you tap yourself.  I'll share that when I figure it out.

This is the latest Dr. Q story:

I was put on an antipsychotic, Abilify, to rule out the possibility of psychosis or anything more severe than BPD being wrong with me. Soon after I started on 1mg (the usual starting dose is 5mg) I was so jittery I was literally either jumping around like an epileptic squirrel on crack or staring at walls for several hours at a time. I was lowered to .5mg soon afterward. It helped my anxiety, and I stopped thinking I had multiple personalities (this due to severe mood swings and lack of self-identity).

I started hearing voices and music, which can be a symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder (temporary break from reality or psychosis). I was kept on the Abilify.

Well, when I went back to see Dr. Q, I told him I felt better and he gave me two boxes of 2mg and 4-5 boxes of 5mg "in case I wanted a higher dose." (Isn't HE the doctor?) He told me to cut the 2mg in half and take 1mg a day, and then he told me that when I ran out or wanted a higher dose, to cut the 5mg into fourths and take 1.25mg. Well, guess what pills are too small to be cut into fourths? So guess what dosage I'm forced to take?

I ran out of halves of 2mg pills and braced myself for the jump from 1mg to 2.5mg by taking 2mg for three days.

Everyone with me so far?

Now, the 2.5mg doesn't sit well with me. I'm pretty much a functioning wreck of a human being. So we called and asked Dr. Q to call in a prescription for 2mg. We'll see how that goes.

I hate when he tricks me into medication doses. If I don't go to college next month I'm changing psychiatrist.

Much love,

Eden.

My name is Eden and I am 21 years old. I decided to write about being a Borderline because, honestly, Borderline Personality Disorder- or BPD- is more widespread than Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia, and yet less is understood about it than either one- which makes it hard to diagnose correctly, and even harder for people with BPD to find support and even other people with BPD to talk to.

I first suspected that I had it when I was about 13 years old. At the time, I was depressed, delusional, self-injuring, suicidal, and occasionally hallucinated. I was alienated, I was all alone despite having a loving family, I never kept friends for long, and my mood swings were so bad that I was convinced I had multiple personalities (such as Rae, who actually does!).

My school counselor received a note from the small, depressed 13-year-old me that I was cutting myself badly. She told my principal- a nun, since it was a Catholic school- who told my parents. They were badly shaken and took me to see a therapist, a wonderful woman named Dr. G. (In an amazing stroke of irony, my current therapist, Dr. W, was hired to replace Dr. G after she left for maternity leave and then for a new job.) I also saw my parents' psychiatrist, Dr. Q.

Oh Dr. Q, the history we have. You are a nice man but I still hate you so very much.

Let's just say that you should never, ever give a 14-year-old Zoloft or really most of the medicine he gave me. I ended up tonguing most of them and hiding them, only to overmedicate every few days. My high school years are a blur...

But I am getting ahead of myself.

After Dr. G left for maternity leave, I was stuck with Dr. Q. I didn't like him and he soon referred me to Dr. K, a therapist and not a psychiatrist- which suited me just fine. I was still on medication, this time Wellbuterin for paranoia and Seroquel to counteract the side effects of Wellbuterin- one such side effect happens to be paranoia. I did not trust that man and he still wonders why.

Dr. K turned out to be a very... passionately negative woman. On the plus side her group therapy led to my first kiss, a pretty girl named Lola. (But that's a bit TMI I'm sure. ^_~ )


She was convinced I had to be committed. She wasn't the first but she was certainly the most vehement. My parents got tired of her always trying to make them believe I was batshit insane and took me out of therapy.

Before I left therapy, however, I ended up overdosing on Wellbuterin and Seroquel over the course of about three days. I truly intended and hoped to die, but my dad found out (well, I confessed; I was 15 and scared.) and he and my sister shoved water down my throat.

I ended up just fine, thankfully.

That was 5 and a half years before I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. And that's the basics. (You want to read something more specific, go read Rae's blog.)




Eden.