Mindfulness

I haven’t written for awhile now. I’m stuck. Trying counselling, but don’t know if it’s helping. I cry a lot – at the mention of my father, future losses, failures I think I’ve had with my son and husband. I cry because I can’t go back in time to change what I said or did. I cry because I’m afraid of what I’ve lost or might lose.  It’s oppressive at times.

The counselor tells me to keep practicing mindfulness, and that some of the things I share with her indicate that I am being mindful at times. She reminds me that I can’t change the past or predict the future. Bemoaning and anxiety. I keep trying. It is SO hard though. Emotions run amuck. Sensations of the walls of the past and future close in around me, leaving little room for mindfulness. The pressure of the past and future engulf me, causing me to panic and forget where I’m at. I suppose that as I practice being mindful, I should get stronger and be able to push the walls back into place. At least that’s what I think my counselor would say if I shared my analogy with her. Is the goal then to push them back until the room they shape (my life) is as large as possible?

Cement walls closing in. I feel like I will drown.

Cement walls closing in. I feel like I will drown.

 

 

 

Update – Feeling Horrible

Something’s wrong and I can’t figure it out. I went off the latuda because, although it helped my mood, it made me feel really creepy. I felt like my skin was crawling and couldn’t handle not doing something – although nothing was what I wanted to do. So now I’m on lamotrigine (building up my dosage). I’m apprehensive of side effects. The last time I was on this, I gained 25 pounds in one month, so was quick to get off it. Hopefully it was something else that made me gain the weight back then, and the lamotrigine will work this time. Aside from that, I have overwhelming feelings of dissatisfaction with my life. It seems to all be for naught. I can’t find success in anything I do. I’m not adding to anything. 

And then there’s losses. Last May, my dad passed away and I’m still not over it. In a few months, my son graduates from high school and moves out and into his new life. My mom is 89 and doing well, but life keeps moving and people will keep passing out of my life. I can’t seem to get anything figured out anymore. My head can’t wrap around simple tasks. I’m moody and don’t even realize it until it’s pointed out. I want to crawl into bed and never leave. 

Thanksgiving with LOTS of People

At my sister’s for Thanksgiving. There were a lot of people! I get anxious in crowds, even if it’s all family. I did end up with a small burn on my arm as a coping mechanism. Something to focus on (the sensation) when the noise and smells of cologne got to be too much. It’ll heal quickly and probably leave no scar. It helped.  I did have a good time and don’t think I ate or drank too much.

My new medication, Latuda, seems to be helping. I see the PA about meds on Monday. I will tell all. I see my counselor on Tuesday. Same same. I’m fortunate that she’s willing to do DBT with me one-on-one since the group meets while I’m at work.

It’s been a good visit to Wisconsin and D.C. to see my family this week. The burn isn’t a big deal, really.

weird feeing after self injury, thrill of the secret shared with myself. I’ve had this feeling before. Part of what can make it addictive. Adrenaline rush. Therein lies a danger.

Email to a friend

I wrote an email to a blogging friend early this morning. Somehow, it turned into a post – so here it is with personal info about people deleted.

Hi, I haven’t read any posts this past week ( other than into paragraph ) but seems you’re in a bad spot. I wish there was something I could offer up to help. I think about you and your journey most every day- even if I’m not able to read your posts. You and Mxxxx.

Having a bit of anxiety myself now. Filling out paperwork for my son to have insurance, even though my husband and I don’t qualify. Something about a thick packet of paperwork puts me over the edge. Only 4 hours sleep because I didn’t take any kind of sedative. Actually got out my exacto knife and washed it in rubbing alcohol to sterilize it. Put it away. Getting anxious about psych appointment next week ( first in over a year +) to be evaluated (again!) for meds (and condition?) Anxious because the last few weeks have been not too bad. What does that mean for me? Better? Yeah, right … That I’m only that much closer to another episode? Probably. And that thought makes me want to isolate myself and turn everyone away. Sink inside. Depressed. But instead, I’ll put on the happy face and try to pretend the anxiety isn’t there. Until it explodes.

My husband thinks that any of my self harm is just for attention. How can that be if each incident is hidden from others? No, it’s not for attention at all. It takes me away from whatever is hurting. Like an escape hatch. The deeper the wound, the better the escape. Like Alice going down the rabbit hole perhaps. But the a new world of disoriented thinking begins.

I’m not needed by my family anymore. I watch their lives going on – completely independent of anything I can provide.

I realize I’m rambling here, and I’ve written more of a post than an email. Sorry about that. I’ve been awake since 2:30 a.m. And feel it. Yet each time that I’ve tried to go back to sleep, I find myself fully awake as soon as my head hits the pillow.
I hate taking sedatives. It’s easy to want to take more than I need so that I stay asleep.
F#%k!

I might as well copy and paste this as a post, since it’s where I’m at this morning.
Writing this on my phone, just noticed my signature says “Visualize”. I think that’s part of my problem. I visualize too much.

Take care, please! I’ll catch up on your posts this weekend.

Hugs,

Feeling it coming on …

My week has been going well, until I opened the mail this afternoon. There was a letter from the state health insurance that my son has – saying he doesn’t qualify for the program. WTF!!! He qualifies as a minor, while we don’t have health insurance. I made phone calls and left messages and now have to wait until a county worker has time to call me back and explain what’s going on. I’m sure it’ll all be righted by the time we’re done. 

As I’m going through this process, I can feel things changing inside me. Frustration and aggravation are mounting, waiting for an incident to tip the scales into an episode. It scares me to feel this. I don’t usually recognize when “the change” is happening, but today I do.  I’m hoping that recognizing it will help me quell the eruption. I don’t want Kilimanjaro to explode.

Image

 

Good for awhile, then falling (failing?)

I’ve been very anxious since my last meltdown (last Thursday), finding myself avoiding on lots of fronts. I’m back to not sleeping well again, and wake up thinking about my last job. I don’t know if my going back to work is triggering things or not, but it doesn’t feel good. I’m calling the county mental health department today to see if they have anyone who works on a reduced fee schedule. Still no insurance, but most psych’s out here don’t seem to take insurance anyways. I’ve been using up old scripts of friends, since mine have all run out. Not cool, I know, but it’s what I have. 
 
Then again, I wonder – because nothing ever seems to really make a difference: therapy, medications … Once I’m triggered, I’m over the edge. I don’t want to kill myself. I want this to be gone. I want to see and experience happiness, and bring happiness to others. My family. 
 
I feel the heavy wrappings of depression hovering near. Moments of levity are precious. Then, with silence and time, the lights darken and my heart and soul become heavy again. 
 
Every time I fall into BPD behaviors and thinking, I feel like I’ve failed. It’s still here. A curse.

Feeling Tender (as in raw)

Wyoming landscape

Wyoming landscape (Photo credit: theclyde)

I’m half way through a two thousand + mile driving trip with my son. I’ve been away from home for over two weeks (and all the “missing stuff” that goes with being away that goes with that) because I flew back to my mom’s to help my son drive her car back to our place. She had just sold it to him. While there, we found she’d broken her ankle. I stayed longer to get her through surgery and into rehab. When we left to start our drive home, it was emotional for me, but I held it in because emotional is hard for her. And I’m an emotional person. My dad passed away two months ago, she’s 88 and in a hospital bed, and I don’t know when the next time I will see her will be. Then my son and I headed out. We get along great until we argue. During the first thousand miles, we did ok. But last night, we clashed. It wasn’t even the clashing that hurt, but he the tends to emulate (he doesn’t think so, so it may be subconscious ) the way my husband talks to me when I get angry. Coming from a 17 year old, it sounded condescending to me. And that’s what hurt my emotional self. For those of you who may not know much about BPD, we are extremely sensitive when it comes to emotions – like having an emotional skin that is sun third degree burned.The slightest touch to our emotions can be excruciatingly painful. Over sensitive to the Nth degree. For me, it’s not all the time, but when I’m in a phase/ mode of vulnerability or have been triggered. That was me last night, but I pushed some of it down, not wanting to break down in front of my son, letting him see how upset I was. In our hotel bathroom, I wanted to scream, punch the wall, cut – but I didn’t. I didn’t though. I just acknowledged it. In bed, I turned away from his bed and silently cried while thinking over our words to each other. That was when I realized he was talking like my husband and how THAT hurt to hear. Maybe I’m also upset about how my husband talks when I’m this way, and can’t quite face that either? I don’t know. I take things the wrong way a lot. I’ve been like that my whole life! I’m over sensitive to negativity, fear, emotions and loss. And it’s getting closer to my going back to work/new job start date. It all piles on. I miss my dad. I miss my mom and am fearful of her age and losing her too.  Feeling short of breath and there’s a sinking pit in my gut. There’s more to that list, but this post is already a lot longer than I planned since I’m writing it on my phone.

I am enjoying seeing the differing landscapes as we drive the long interstate (I-80) through Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming – and states still ahead. These areas always make me think if the pioneers and how they might have felt traveling through this terrain when there were no trails or roads. I admire them beyond measure.