Crashing after a LONG good spell (Needing to vent a little here)

Rock and a hard place

I feel like the little rock – caught between two others, trying to maintain my balance. How long can I?

Let me just say up front that I know my life is hunky-dorey compared to many of my virtual friends. I really don’t have a D*#M thing to complain about. But here I am, venting in a post after I haven’t written anything for several weeks. I’ll be surprised and happy if anyone even bothers to read this. I know it may sound like I’m feeling sorry for myself, and I’m trying to avoid that cop out. I realize that I am the only one who can change anything about me. I am trying to.

I’m struggling with how to express how I’m feeling right now. Not Good just doesn’t cut it. It’s pissing me off because over the past month, I’ve felt better than I have in over a year or two.

I don’t feel like I fit in with my family (my husband and son.) Maybe that’s a male vs female thing? But what I do know is that my husband shared just how depressed he’s become over the past year or so. Maybe much longer, and I have to feel that me and my crap has played SOME part in that. And my son is repressing feelings from his girlfriend breaking up with him and it’s caused physical problems with exhaustion, weakness and heart palpitations to the point that he’s missed a bunch of school – again. SO, I am trying to be as supportive to them both as I can … yet everything I do seems wrong (at least to me.) I end up pushing my son to talk. I’m f#@king scared of what to say to my husband about anything, even if it’s something like “I’d like to paint the bedroom.” I’m picking on them both (even when I hold the words back, the thoughts are still in my head) about the tiniest sh#t that was asked to be done and/or didn’t get done.

And I’m feeling HORRIBLE about my physical self. I have to sleep using a cpap machine (just call me Darth Vader) or I snore enough to wake up the neighborhood. And I’ve gotten huge! We were being intimate last night and he wanted me to get on top. I told him I couldn’t. I felt like there was no way. I’d had a big supper, way too much. I really wanted to throw up and even went into the bathroom to do so. But I didn’t. I stopped myself, realizing that it would be another form of self harm. And I’ve not done that for a few months now.

I just want to pull off my head and put it on another body … a different body. I guess I’m acting like I’m feeling better … but it’s just repressing and exhibiting in other ways.

A birth that might not have been – had the threat been real.

This is a digital story I made about my son and some circumstances that were going on during my delivery of him, unbeknownst to me. In making it, I was constantly reminded of how much he means to me and the impact he has had on so many lives. As a person who struggles with their own self worth, I need to remember that although I am no longer a child, I too have been that child. Whether I’ve always liked myself or not, I’ve touched the lives of others as well. But I don’t want this post to be about me. I want to share my digital story of my son, Peter, with you.

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?

Baggage Department?

Baggage Dept

Baggage Dept (Photo credit: Noël Zia Lee)

What baggage am I leaving here and what baggage am I taking with me? Physical and psychological?

Today is my last day in Wisconsin before moving 2000 miles and being on my own for the first time in my life. It may be a shortish time, or a long time, depending on how long it takes for our house here to sell so that my husband can join me. Most people learn to do the things I’ll be doing when they are in their early 20s. But I’ve never been alone. Partly because I’m a twin, and my BPD kept me attached to her as we grew up in terms of friends and identity. As she and I grew older, I was dating my later to become husband. All of my attachments for friends, identity and decisions then became focused around him. I always deferred to him. Political views, music, purchases, big things like that. On top of abandonment issues. So now, I have to be the one to step away (because I truly get too muddled when it comes to selling our house, and I want to get started on the new home environment), try to put on my big girl panties (YIKES!!! on so many levels) and jump out of the plane 2000 miles away where we don’t know anyone, I don’t have a job, etc.

Yesterday I said good-bye to my parents. I’ve tried to spend a lot of time with them over the past couple of weeks. I think that helped. My mom still can’t say the words “I love you” out loud, but I know she does. Very much. We spent the last few days teaching her how to use skype video calling. She’ll be a master of it!

Skype Technologies S.A. logo


I’m already feeling anxious this morning. Everything I want to take isn’t fitting into my suitcases and that means that there will be an argument with  my 16 year old as I tell him he has to use a different case to accommodate some of my things, even though it will just be a checked bag. But maybe it will be a moment that occasionally happens and he will say OK. It can happen. That would be nice.

Over the last few days I have had a few instances when I wanted to cut in reaction to emotions. Feeling invalidated. I know these are usually times when I am experiencing emotions overly strongly, but the thoughts of self harm are like lightning flashes – I WANT TO SLASH ACROSS MY STOMACH! – But I’m not acting on them, just hearing the words in my head as an emotional reaction. At my last meeting with my psychiatrist, I told him that I consciously packed my exacto knives to be moved with the majority of the house, not with the things I am taking now. I know it’s somewhat irrelevant because I can always go and buy another, but it was the stopping and thinking about it. The decision not to take them with me. If I decided to hurt myself, there’s ALWAYS something available. I can be very creative. But I do want to be healthy. I do want to be happy.

emotion icon

emotion icon (Photo credit: Łukasz Strachanowski)

Rodger Waters: The Wall

I don’t know how many of you are familiar with Rodger Waters (previously of Pink Floyd) and his epic piece The Wall that was originally produced and performed 33 years ago. Well, my husband, son and I are going to see him in Chicago in June. I just got done watching an interview with him on 60 Minutes and it reminded me of how powerful The Wall is. A childhood without a father, walls between relationships, desperateness. It will be a great show – and emotionally overwhelming. I know parts will hit very close to sensitive nerves.I may just wish to become … comfortably numb.

Cover of "Pink Floyd The Wall"

Roger Waters To Appear On 60 Minutes This Sunday ( Cover of Pink Floyd The Wall

The last few days have been especially emotional for me as I deal with impending separation/loss of friends and family due to our move. Every bit of sadness seems to send me over the edge. Every disagreement spurs a rage in defense of a possible loss. Abandonment seems to surround me.  I’m afraid  to speak out. When I do, if there is disagreement, it rapidly escalates (by me). Last night, my husband went to help chaperone a party the neighbor boys were having for our son, knowing that if I did and anything needed an intervention I would over react. He did need to address a situation with a boy, and was able to do it. When he told me how it had evolved today, I realized how much I would have over reacted and probably ended the night for our son, instead of just the situation. Once I start going, I don’t seem to be able to rein it back in until the damage has been done. And I seem to have to shame others in it as well. That’s really shitty.

A metaphorical visualization of the word Anger.

A metaphorical visualization of the word Anger. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tomorrow is the last day I will be seeing my psychologist before I move next month. She’s going into private practice (part time.) My anxiety is increasing as the move gets closer. I think that’s why the sad emotions are getting so out of whack. I don’t seem to be getting quite as angry, so that’s good.

I’ve been frustrated with my mom because she’s obviously having some difficulty with us moving, but trying to hide it. I’ve invited her over for coffee Tuesday morning. I’m going to attempt to (as another blogger said) use sand paper to pop a pimple. Hopefully, if it’s just the two of us, I can help her to actually open up and maybe cry with me about it. My mom has never been one to show her sadness. Maybe showing it together will bring us closer. I know I’m taking a BIG chance here, but I can’t leave without taking this chance. I don’t think it will hurt, and it might just help us both.