On the Borderline - Life With BPD: April 2011

Sicky Sicky.

I'm sick of living in this world where nobody cares about anyone else. It's all about them, always, at all times. I feel like I'm stuck in a sea of other people's shit. Nobody takes responsibility for their actions. Nobody cares if you're okay, and if they bother to ask, why do something so stupid like comforting them or offering advice? It's best to change the subject, even cut them off mid-word because hey, it probably wasn't important anyway. While we're at it, if you owe money to somebody that bothered to actually care (a deadly sin!) why pay them back for it, even though you already offered to pay them back, why go through with it? Sure, you owe them money that they NEED because they spent their own on YOU, but it's best to sneak out when they're feeling sick and aren't paying attention so you can get the money you owe them and give it to someone else. It's not like they'd mind right? That would be silly.

It's little things piling on that hurt worst. And if it's happening to Rae then it's agonizing. I just want to fix everything. I want her happiness and serenity. I want to give her the world so she can be comfortable in it.

Sometimes I just want to end it all. I haven't wanted to cut this bad in a long time. Nine months since the last time and I don't know how I did it but slowly at first, and now faster, I just want to slice my skin open and let the blood drain out along with my fury; I want it to take away my frustration and sadness and disappointment and my glass-shard red and black RAGE that lately wants to take over.

I feel like I'm shouldering a greater burden than Atlas ever did.

I'm so close to the edge... try not to breathe on me.




Eden.

Yes Indeedy!

Thanks to Rae (hearts!) for the post and reminder. :3

So yes. No more meds for me. I have no idea how it's going, to be honest. I'll need to ask Rae to let you guys know for me. I think it's going okay. I don't know. I haven't the slightest clue.

I've been in a somewhat longish struggle to get out of the dorms and into either my own place or an apartment-style dorm suite, but it seems I've failed this year again- I managed to snag a dorm room on the second floor of one of the other buildings (I'd hate to have to go up the stairs to the 6th floor!) but it's about the same as thing one. Smaller though. But the other cafeteria is there and it's actually pretty decent. The one by my current building is often unsuitable for human consumption. It'll reeeeally suck this summer, of course, when it's the only place open- last year they reused the same food so many times that the rice was literally too hard to chew. I'm not exaggerating. :/ My roommate and I ate a lot of ramen!

They have tasty cookies though.

Anyway. Hopefully I can deal with my future roommate just fine. I hope she's nice and not too loud and not anything like all the other girls on our hall. x_x

More update later.


Eden.

Ayep

What up readers? I'm posting for Eden since she apparently disappeared. ...She's actually asleep right now, but she needs it. Okay, so... It's been..a week?..maybe not that long, I'm not sure anymore, since Eden had her meds. Even I've been calling the doctor trying to get it for her, but no one ever answers the fucking phone there and they don't return calls, apparently, cos she's left God knows how many voice mails. I'm tired of it. She has shit luck with therapists. I have pretty good luck with them, but I move around so much, I can't get attached to one. Things are going pretty crazy, but she's alive, so she can give you details later. I'll try to remember to remind her.

Multiply

It's sad to admit, but I'm not sure how Rae is doing lately. She has her bad days (usually coinciding with mine) and her okay days, but it seems that the others are coming back... maybe? I'm not sure. I'll have to ask her when she gets home.

I have mixed feelings about this. I miss them terribly, but if they're coming back, then it could mean Rae's doing worse. Alternately, it could mean that she's going to get more help, since, after all, that is generally why alters exist.

We'll see.



Eden.

Prognosis

I don't have any proof for anything I'm about to write, so there.

Most articles and things I've read on BPD show the future is pretty bleak. Although there are new treatments- such as new medications and DBT, or Dialectical Behavior Therapy (such as this workbook I've linked before), which many, many people swear by. But I'm scared shitless. So's Rae, I think.

Basically, it MIGHT go away by the time I hit 50. It likely won't. It tends to get worse with age. It sucks now, but it's not as serious as most cases- but I'm only 22 and assuming it DOES go away by 50, I still have 28 years to go.

No wonder the (successful) BPD suicide rate is 1 in 10.

Rae doesn't quite come out and say it, but there's a big probability that we won't have children because I'm crazy. Seriously, I'd probably get post-partum depression (my crazy psychiatrist told me "never have kids", my Lamictal can cause infertility anyway. Not that he mentioned that last part until much later.), attempt to murder my children, and be locked away in a criminal asylum. Or I'd just be a moody bitch to them until they grow up, move as far away as they can, and show up to my funeral... hopefully.

As for the cause of BPD, oh guess what nobody knows. There are theories, of course. But that's it. One doc blamed my parents (she had me talking back to them for weeks.), and everyone I've seen is at a loss as to what might have happened (nobody's willing to try hypnosis just in case it's too awful, or something) or even how to deal with me- it generally ends in "well, what do you want to do? how do you want to treat this?" ....um. You're the licensed mind doc, remember?

So there you have it. Nobody knows anything and I gave up trying long ago.




Eden.

Symptomatic

So I don't think I've actually written down a list of BPD Syymptoms. These are pretty important.

First of all, though, you have to know that a lot of these are part of most people's daily lives. Some people just get depressed for awhile. Some people have random bursts of happiness or are easily irritated or angered. This doesn't mean you have Borderline Personality Disorder.

Second of all, you should get diagnosed by a trained professional; otherwise, if you don't have it, you'll convince yourself that you do, and it is Not Fun. If you DO have it, you'll make it worse.

And so.

Official DSM-IV Criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder
The DSM is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manuual, used by pretty much all psychiatrists and therapists. It is constantly being updated and changed.

These are the current symptoms used for diagnosing a patient:

A pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects, and marked impulsivity beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

1) frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

This can lead to one or more of the following: Stalking, threatening, manipulating, staying in an abusive relationship, suffocation, dumping or leaving someone 'before they do it,' etcetera.

2) a pattern of unstable & intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation

This is commonly known as black and white thinking or "splitting." Basically, I love you and you're perfect and can do no wrong- did you forget to call me back? I hate you! Never speak to me again! ...Get the idea? Obviously, this makes it very difficult to have a stable relationship with a lover, friends, even family.

3) identity disturbance: markedly and persistent unstable self-image or sense of self

Who am I? Or constantly changing the way you dress, act, or speak depending on who you are with or even where you are. I don't mean, say, acting professionally in the workplace (assuming your symptoms are not so severe that you can't hold down a job, which is common). I'm talking about wearing a mask for every situation- and not knowing what's beneath it. Personally, sometimes I look in the mirror and don't recognize my reflection. Sometimes I forget my own name.

4) impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)

This refers to more than acting out or being a wild party person or what-have-you. This means you sleep around all the time, you eat all the time, you are a shopaholic, alcoholic, crack addict, etc. Sometimes it's mild- I have a lot of impulses, but they aren't usually too bad. It comes and goes.

5) recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures or threats, or self-mutilating behavior

I hate to talk about it, but my arms were pretty much hamburger meat when I was thirteen. I have a lot of scarring on my breasts (where I could hide it from my parents... at first anyway), and most of the other ones are gone but there are still a lot of old scars that stand out, especially my inside upper arms. I attempted suicide once, at fifteen or sixteen. However, I've never -threatened- to hurt myself or kill myself. I also don't like people seeing my scars, so I never did it for attention.

Another note on that subject- some younger kids or teens will do it for attention or to be cool. But that doesn't mean every kid or teen is just out for attention- sometimes it's a cry for help.

Last note: I hate hate HATE how it's portrayed in movies, shows, most books, photography and other art, songs, and music videos. (Did I leave anything out? Oh yes- poetry and any other form of writing as well.) It's rarely realistic, always shows the person as pathetic or "emo," and overall stupid.

...Right, sore subject. Sorry.


6) affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days)

This is the worst for me. I complain about it a lot on here because it's always happening. Ranging from 15 minutes to several hours, and about twice a year a couple of days or so with minor differences every few minutes. I'm awesome and my art is wonderful! Ugh no, it sucks. Damnit, I just want to draw well! I hate it, I'm a hack, I'll never be able to do this... Man, my roommates are so annoying, sitting there minding their own business. Oooh, I drew a flower! It's so pretty!

You get the idea. That, but worse.

Very occasionally, during those twice-a-year episodes, I'm suicidal for days. It's scary as fuck. This year's first one was the worst I've had in YEARS.


7) chronic feelings of emptiness

This used to be a huge problem for me, now it's not quite as bad. It can last a while- for me, the longest was about a week back in high school- and can easily go either way when it's over: drop into despairing depression, or lift me up into a rainbow fairy magical land where unicorns poop sprinkles.

Makes for some surreal poetry though.


8) inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights)

I didn't know I did this until, oh, last Christmas. Therapists wouldn't believe I was diagnosed with BPD before I saw them, because I "don't look violent." Well, it turns out that I DO have this issue and then my brain will block it from my mind. I don't remember whole days. I've done things such as yell at my parents for daring to tell me they like *those* shoes better on me, call my sister up and scream at her before hanging up on her out of the blue, etcetera. It explains why my sister still hates me- and I didn't know why until a few months ago!

9) transient, stress related paranoia or severe dissociative symptoms

Yeah. I was on meds for paranoia in 8th grade or so, maybe a bit later. As for the dissociation, it's similar to the empty feeling, but more interesting. I'm floating in a different time and space, watching everything happen. Time slows down for everyone else and my movements are sluggish. I can barely speak. I can't focus my eyes on anything. I'm flying and on the ground at the same time. It's disorienting and very obvious to everyone else so I try to stay secluded.

Now, the general consensus is that nobody can be officially diagnosed until they're at least 18. Anyone want to guess why?

That's right, sir in the front row. It's because our brain chemicals and things aren't very developed and stable until we're about... 24, I think? But eh, they picked 18 for whatever reason.

BPD symptoms become evident in late adolescence and early adulthood. Me, I knew what it was when I was 12, and I just fought it as much as I could. Didn't work, did it.

But as you can probably guess, a lot of teens will be convinced they have it. Lashing out at their parents, sneaking out late to party, being depressed or angry for no discernible reason, writing angsty poetry (guilty.), threatening suicide if they don't get what they want, desperate attempts to keep their boyfriend/girlfriend, not knowing who they are... it sucks, but it's usually a normal part of growing up.

Or as is the case with a forum I occasionally object myself to, many, MANY people in volatile relationships- usually dumped- will insist their SO had BPD and that's why they were nuts.

Chances are, your ex-wife was just a bitch.

IM 2: Rub A Dub Dub.

Inner Monologue # 2.

Condensed for attention span and length. And sadly almost verbatim.

[Setting: Cleaning the bathtub.]
[Me (E) and my inner!Laia (I), who Sucks At the Therapees]

E: La dee dah, cleaning the tub~

I: …Why?

E: What?

I: Why are you cleaning the tub? Make roommates do it.

E: Why am I talking to myself inside my own head?

I: Make the roommates do it.

E: Well, no. V's usually pretty clean and N claims she does it but it's still gross.

I: There's dead skin in there. And dirt.

E: I'm wearing gloves and this Windex kills germs. It smells like oranges!

I: …You inhaled too much of it and now you're going to get cancer.

E: I smoke. Windex won't kill me. Can't breathe though.

I: Told you.

E: Shut up. I'm opening the door.

I: You forgot to call the bank about the missing money.

E: I can see it now. "Why are you calling us at 2am?" Well sir, I'm a college student and I'm awake at two in the morning, scrubbing the bathtub, so why not? ...Ugh, this stuff is stronger than I thought. Bathroom fan isn't very good is it.

I: Cancer.

E: At least it'll be citrus scented cancer.

I: Reeeally.

E: Yes, really. I don't remember my inner!Laia being such a condescending bitch.

I: I'm not her. And you should stop having your little OCD moment, you have homework to do.

E: Shut up. You're a horrible inner voice.

I: FIne.

[Silence]

I: You missed a spot. And you picked up the gross old sponge by accident.

E: Shit! Okay, that's fine. I have Windex.

I: Cancer.

[Sulking silence]

I: Don't think about the number four.

E: Fuck you! You suck at this!

I: I thought you liked me.

E: I like Laia. At least she's real. And she's good at this.

[Silence]

E: …hello? Helloooo? Voice in my head?

[Silence]

E: Oh. Guess you're gone then.

IM 1: A Half Hour In the Life

I am starting a new series of posts. I call them inner monologues. And they will also be inner dialogues. And inner ramblings. So there.

Inner Monologue # 1.

[Setting: Bridge, stairs, dorm.]
[Me.]


The number 4 is conspiring against me.

So I'm sitting on the bridge that goes from my dorm to two others, and there's a sign across from me. I can't recount my steps completely, but it amounts to 54 pen-strokes if I count the name of the dorm plus the writing under it, including spaces. Then you count the board itself, the steel frame, and the two posts holding it up, and after a long and complex 20 minutes or so, you end up with the number four.

Is Adderall a good idea tonight? I need to concentrate, I haven't gotten any homework done tonight, but there's only two of them left, and is it really the number four? (Coincidentally, there are four letters in the number four.) and I kind of want to try the pasta at the dorm pizza place but O said it wasn't very good, not surprising since it's dorm food, and anyway the last time I had dorm food I had to tell them to use all meal plans cos they ended using my laundry money and is it really four or is it 54, which adds up to 9, and I guess it is the number four, and I still can't find E, I think she's hiding from me.

Oh God why am I in art school I don't fit in here either and do I want to, does it really bother me?

Okay, so I can accept that it's the number four, and suddenly everything equals four- don't count the steps going upstairs, they aren't the same on every floor and I can't remember if the number ends up being 9 condensed (different from uncondensed but still the same) and okay, it's four, and now I'm at my floor. I live on the fourth floor.

Fuck.

+Edit: Four blog views today. See? Proof.

Mechanics

So this is how some of us live.

You have to be careful what you read, hear, see, do, or who you talk to. Even what you taste is dangerous. You have to stay in a stable mood, a safe state of mind. A single bad song can tip the scales and topple you into mania or depression. It's like walking on a tightrope- a gust of wind can kill you.

So there are songs I spent a lot of time avoiding. Rae taught me something important- that you can't give things power. And she was right. Now I can listen to a lot of old songs.

But there are still things that give me trouble. Some movies, or even movie genres, will set me off. And I'm about to conduct an experiment, of sorts- there is a webcomic that seriously can switch me into dark and jagged and broken glass. And naturally I'm about to re-read it.

This time, I'm not in the closet, the smell of vinegar and old food suffocating, the lights dark and the doors locked, loud music cutting off all contact with the outside world. I'm in an open room, the window letting sunlight in, a breeze floating in. I have people around me.

I'll let you know how it goes. If everything goes well, then I'll finish reading it up to today's comic and I'll be fine.

On another note, I've been trying to do some practice art. Anyone want a sketch? Free commissions!



Eden.