For some reason, my depression came back and smacked me upside my head this afternoon. I’ve felt emotional good for quite awhile now. I hate this feeling – and especially that I have to push it down and hide it … Pretending that all is well even when it is sucking out my emotions. I HAVE to hide it. I have to. Anxious Fearful Angry. For the first time in a very very long time, I wanted to punch a cinder block wall. I put the knuckles of my fist up to it and turned my fist, pushing through as I would in a power punch.
The first trimester of school is almost over. I can’t believe we’re a third of the way through the school year already! I still don’t feel like I’m on firm ground, there’s so much to do and to get used to. On top of lots of assessments of students, meetings, teaching … I’m exhausted and typically spend ten hours a day at school. And, I’m not sleeping very well, unless I take three different things to help me get to sleep.
This week has been especially stressful. There’s been a lot of anxiety. My first meeting of the week went well on Monday. I had another on Wednesday that wasn’t so good. I was nervous and the computer program/site that we process our paperwork on wasn’t working correctly and really messed up my report. Can’t blame it … that’s just what happens sometimes. But, because I’m new there and feeling unsure about teaching after 2.5 years away from it, the way that meeting went felt horrible. One of the other specialists saw me later in the day and could tell how much I’m struggling. She was very supportive and tried to help me feel more secure in what I do. I am very lucky to work with people like her!
Yesterday was going pretty well, until a student in my room had an absentee seizure. It wasn’t stopping, nurse was there, 911 called … I think he’s ok though. 🙂
Today was crazy, crazy! We had a fire drill and evacuation drill first thing. Got back to school and was able to work with two classes before lunch. Just as lunch was ending. we found out there was a gunman incident happening in town and the whole school district went into lockdown mode. For three hours! Everything at school was ok. Unfortunately, two police officers were killed and another injured.
On top of all this going on, I’m struggling with finding a new doctor to prescribe my medications. I think I need to see a general practitioner first. I only have about a month of meds left, so it’s a time issue. I’m on new insurance, so everything has to switch. I’ve been working on it, but seem to call after business hours. That’s on me – to find the time and remember to call when someone is available to take my call.
Please understand, I’m not complaining and I hope it doesn’t come across as if I am. It’s just been a difficult transition and I am struggling with it. Unfortunately, the stress has triggered my bulimia and I’m using that to cope more often. Not a good plan! I feel the decades of it in my chest whenever I do purge. I started writing this post because I’m feeling very full from the pot pie I had for supper. I really wanted to purge, but didn’t. I hate that full feeling. At least it’s good that my meds have my BPD well in check!
Thanks for reading through my ramblings.
I’m very afraid of what this new approach to my therapy will bring. But I asked for it. I feel like I’m in Limbo. Something am waits, but what. I want to force it out of hiding, yet fear it will be my undoing to do so. The fear makes me want to do things to myself to avoid facing it … Binge, purge, cut, burn, drink, pills … My skin is crawling. I don’t really want to hurt myself, just trying to avoid the unknown fear. Binging and purging isn’t working. I’ve no strong desire to cut and burn (feelings aren’t at that intensity right now) and having a drink just makes me sadly aware of the fear and avoidance.
I want to talk but am afraid of what I might say or ask. The truth might be too hard, too uncomfortable – demanding what of me?
“I don’t think you really have BPD,” She said. Then what? Am I just fucked up? I know my life is a dream compared to others. But I cannot deny the fear and trepidation that fill me. I put on a laughing facade around my friends. They say they are always there to help, but how can they? This all seems so childish of me. Get over it! Shut up the words that resound in your head. Silence can be so deafening.
Drinking makes me depressed, just like they say it will. Not a good thing to do. Ok, off to bed. Night all.
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?
Why do some responses, actions and words feel so crushing inside? Things that are really no big deal FEEL huge and overpowering. One just happened. We are setting up some new furniture on our deck. I had repainted a fountain that was in my garden and put it on the deck for the winter. My husband says, “You’re not leaving that on the deck, are you?” Immediately, my insides curl up like I’ve done something terrible. I haven’t, and it’s not a big deal, but I FEEL like it is. I’m wrong in keeping it there. I’ve done something that he didn’t want me to do. I know and understand that my internal over reaction is a part of my BPD extreme sensitivity, but knowing this doesn’t change how I’m feeling. I want to crawl in a hole and disappear – all because of a simple statement! This hyper sensitivity is what I hate most about my BPD. Knowledge does not quell it. An it can be a factor in an upheaval of raging behavior that has yet to surface, adding on to each little iota of irritation, fear, anxiety or whatever that builds inside of me. Conflict with my world. I feel it in my chest, throat, head – and throughout my body. My head pulls down on my neck, like a turtle trying to withdraw into its shell. My shoulders hunch as my throat sucks in, trying to shrink my body until I disappear. It can make me seek distraction and lack of distraction brings chaos. I feel it swirling, making me curl up inside, wanting to avoid all interactions. How can something so little as a question become so big that it envelopes me completely?
Bringing some of my blog title into a post …
Finding myself scratching my leg, and then i keep on scratching. There is not itch.
Fighting to make my smile reach up and into my eyes.
Happily watching my dog, Chi, playful at last – after a month and a half recovery from ????
Fearful of words left unspoken.
Wanting to take anxiety pills and alcohol and sleep, sleep, sleep.
Grateful the weekend is here and I don’t have to go to work. I want to work, but it brings up SO much.
Cloudy thinking. Cloudy feeling. I don’t know what I want.
I know I’ll be alone some day. When, I don’t know. It takes me into disassociation.
It is what it is. My own doing? Inevitable.
I just go home from work (I’ve been working for a month now) and have the rest of my assessment by the county clinician this afternoon. A lot of anxiety and depression has surfaced since I returned to work. It’s a simple job, yet I don’t feel I’m doing very well. Constantly being “corrected” it seems, though probably not as often as it feels. I feel like I’m losing what spark I had in me. Falling flat. I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t always be UP if I’m to work on this. Without therapy, I ignore my illness while it’s behaving itself and staying hidden, not abusing myself or exploding at others. That hasn’t worked. So, I have to live with all the emotions right at the surface, staying there because I’m trying to do something about them. Without hurting myself. I really want to self medicate right now. Stuff it all down under numbness. So much pretending that my life is ok! It’s exhausting! My life is filled with blessings in the people who care about me. But I still fall apart at the slightest conflict. I feel very incapable. Feeling sad, scared and frustrated.
I read a post recently – about eyes and what we see about the person behind them. After a conversation with another blogger, it was suggested that I post my eyes. I’m wondering what others see in them.
This first picture was taken with my laptop camera. I was feeling pretty depressed.
A few minutes ago, I took another with my phone.
What do you, the reader see in my eyes?
I know that when more of the face is shown, more can be read into it. Eyebrows up or a wrinkled brow. But to see the soul through the eyes, I wanted to see only the eyes. If I get a few comments, I’ll edit my post and put what I see, but I don’t want to influence any comments with my own perception. I want to hear what others see.
I had (most of) my assessment done by the county a few days ago. Yes, I should have help. It was the 3rd or 4th assessment done in the past year and a half. Why am I surprised that nothing has changed? Some good news, though, is that the county is starting a DBT group in a few weeks. The staff was just trained. But, as usually happens when I’m in the status of getting help, it brings everything to the forefront of my mind. And that makes me depressed. No pretending it isn’t hovering nearby. No denying it’s existence. Facing it is hard to do, but I must. Hopefully, this DBT group will help me to get AND USE tools to make my episodes less traumatic for myself and my family. The thought of talking to people, honestly, generates a lot of fear and wanting to numb myself. But I have to do something. All my meds are gone.