Faster than a speeding bullet – or the rebound of Forest Gump’s ping pong ball

A typical CPAP mask. The opening goes over the...UGGGGGGHHHHH! I had a whole post typed out and something happened and it’s gone except for this friggin picture and the caption below. F*%&K! I want to throw my laptop across the room.

I feel like I’m trapped in my mask sometimes. And I have to wear it every night for the rest of my life. My airway is too narrow. At least I don’t keep my husband and son awake anymore. Sometimes my¬† anxiety makes me feel trapped in it and I want to cut off all of my hair.

OK I’ll try again. My BPD is acting up again. I want to write but can’t replicate what Id written and lost earlier. I talked myself down (up?) from some low points, but I’m still feeling strangled. I may come back to edit this post again later. Stop back in. I’m the ping pong ball traveling faster than a speeding bullet though. Last night, I was on the brink. Strangled by anxiety and emotions. Pills I haven’t used in a long time were called upon to help me sleep, I didn’t like that, but I need to sleep. Right?

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Anxiety attack!

Found out today that I don’t own my c-pap machine (that I had to start using in May). Now I can’t find my paperwork. Lost in the move? Thrown away? I was out of it with BPD stuff when I sas diagnosed with sleep apnea and put on the c-pap and it all explained. Now I’m scrambling to find the information and who to call and figure out how much I owe. I know I’ll get through it though. Just need to slow down and breathe. In that respect, I’m much better off than I was a few months ago.

D-Day

I’m afraid of what today’s appointments, and the one with my psychologist on Monday, will bring. Tuesday afternoon, I was burning some brush and thinking about how Dave continues to not respond (even to acknowledge receiving and/or reading) my emails about my BPD. He’s just THAT shut down about it I guess. I know discussion is out of the question, but I keep hoping he’ll become more aware or understanding. It goes back to my unrelenting fear of abandonment. All this after 32 years of marriage. You’d think I’d realize he’s not leaving me, but I know some days push him closer to it, so it continues to haunt me. The whole thinking part put me in a funk of not caring about myself, risky behavior with the fire. I didn’t use a stick or tool to move wood around. I used my hands. Carefully, of course. But then I started picking up sticks that were burning embers on the end. That let to me thinking about my burn scars being flatter than my cutting scars. And that lead me to deciding to burn over the cutting scars on the back of my leg. I’ve been on an antibiotic for 5 days for strep throat, but the area of cutting/burning looks like an infection is developing. I told my psychiatrist about it last night when he asked how things had been going. I really should tell him his questions, or at least some of them pertaining to my safety, should be more specific. I’m afraid, today, because I will see my regular doctor. He’s the one who’s treated my cuts and burns. I feel like I’ve really let him down.I know I have strategies to help me, but they evaporate in the moment. I spend a lot of time alone, and that’s when the irregular thinking occurs. The move to CA is coming up in about 6 or 7 weeks, and I’m afraid someone here will get the brilliant (sarcasm) idea to have me treated inpatient. If I really want to seriously hurt myself, I could do it there too, so what’s the point? The move will be stressful too. I need to make friends, even though I’ve never really had close friends. I need medical support and that’s been difficult to set up. So there’s the alone time again.

EVERY bit of stress seems so much larger than it is or should be. I see the Sleep Disorder doctor in 3 hours. They want me to do another sleep study night (Horrible experience!) and it looks like I do have sleep apnea, which means some sort of device to be worn while sleeping. I want the help of the doctors, but on my terms. I guess it’s another symptom … manipulating, pushing, challenging, clinging. The monster inside me looks and waits, ready to pounce.

My body, my cage, my cell.

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Breathe or Die

Last night I participated in a sleep study to see why I snore. Guess what? I have sleep apnea. That means I stop breathing during my sleep and my legs either¬† kick to wake me up to breathe, or my snoring wakes me up to breathe. I suppose this is good because if I didn’t do that, I would die. Now, I just need to learn to deal with wearing a mask, over my nose, to force air through my throat and keep me breathing. Hard pill to swallow. Ha Ha,

First Post

Hi, I’ve just begun my recovery from decades of BPD that was never addressed. I’ve coped, at my family’s expense. That is no longer acceptable to me. We all deserve to be happy and to find joy in life. My hope is that it isn’t too late for me or those close to me. I’m desperately afraid of what demons I will be challenged with facing, be they experiences, issues or emotions. Right now, I’m feeling very lonely and apprehensive about stepping into this journey. But step forward I must because going backward isn’t an option and staying put is debilitating. So, here goes!

Lonely Wolf

Lonely Wolf (Photo credit: Ghetu Daniel)