New and newer

So … new insurance means finding a new person to handle meds. Met with that person yesterday. Oh, and yesterday kind of s#cked. Made several professional mistakes that I could be called to task on and/or written up for. Trying to stay on top of too many things at once and that means making mistakes. On to the new prescriber, a psychiatric nurse practitioner. After spending over an hour with her, she’s decided to double the amount of Zoloft (generic version) from 50 to 100 mg. I knew the 50 mg was low, but it was mainly to stop the crying. And she’s also increasing my Lamictal from 200 to 300 mg. She says that’s the most that should be taken before its effectiveness decreased. She wanted me to take the rest of the week off of work but I refused to. Conferences and assessments to be done. Next week is a vacation week, so that should help. As always happens, she wanted me to assure her that if I felt like hurting myself, I would call 911. I said I wouldn’t do that. Would I call her? I said, “honestly, no.” Heer response was the expected, “if you can’t do that, then I need to hospitalize you.” My response, “I have no desire to kill myself, but I can’t say I won’t hurt myself.” I’d told her that my self harming had gone from the more obvious cutting and burning to the non-visible purging. Even though it is not a good thing. This seemed more satisfactory to her and she let me go at that. I’ve never wanted to kill myself. There are too many things in life I want to see .. like grandchildren someday, my family, the world, what happens in life! Sometimes I just don’t want to hurt so much. It’s not even all the time, just when things happen. I just want to feel ok with myself and not so volatile or sensitive to everything. The roller coaster has NEVER been a ride I enjoyed ( real or metaphorically speaking.) And it’s not too thrilling for others on the ride with me either, ie my husband and family.

We’ll see how it goes. Today, I’m feeling better – but that’s also how it seems to go. I really would like to be ok with myself some day. From what I hear, I’m a pretty decent person.

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Afraid

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.

Preparing for the rest of my assessment

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.

Hope

I have an appointment for a county evaluation this coming Thursday. Evaluations always confirm my BPD, depression and anxiety. It’s what can be done that I’m looking for.

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By the way, my dog Chi seems to be 100% again!the vet thinks it was an autoimmunity. Cortisone helped. I sure do love her. When I broke down last week, she quickly jumped up on my bed and curled into me as I sobbed. It was the first time she’d jumped up on the bed in a month. She did it for me.

Visuals

I want to write a post, but my mind is a blank. I’ve been working in my garden a lot, which is very therapeutic for the mind! I think I finally have it all planted and now the tending is to help everything grow. It’s somewhat of a zen garden. There are a few herbs and a cherry tomato plant. Other than that, there are roses (although I’m having trouble getting them to bloom), many different perennials for sun and shade, a slope of succulents, a fig tree, peach tree, Rose of Sharon, tons of rosemary … and a small zen fountain. So rather than write, I’ve decided to share some pictures. Mentally, I’m very good today and grateful for the friends I have and the support and love they have for me (and I for them.)

zen fountain in my garden

zen fountain in my garden

another angle

 

 

 

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momentary glimpses of bits and pieces of thoughts

This posting may include rambling and disconnected thoughts.

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I’ve just been catching up on reading blogs I follow. There are a lot of them and they are all over the  place. There’s always something, however small, that I’ve connected with in the blogger that has me going back to their blog. In reading this morning, I’ve been transported back years in my own situation to when I was hospitalized and feeling isolated from the world by my “issues”. I’ve remembered a friend’s terrible depression after the suicide of her husband.  I  see joy in the world in some blogs, though photography that I wish I could emulate. Physical medical issues have come up reminding me of years I worked in a bread factory while struggling with depression and bulimia.

Looking at my last post, and the pictures of myself, is not setting well right now. I can’t stand the sight of myself. I know I could edit the post and delete the pictures, but that’s not the point. There I am in my horrible hugeness after feasting (compulsively) my way through Christmas. I know my mom looks at my size with disdain, though she seldom says things directly to me, because of my eating disorder history, but will comment on how big other people are. I doubt she even realizes it, and it probably comes from her own issues with food and body size, but I hear and feel and internalize it all. I’m ashamed of all the weight I’ve gained, how big I am. It’s hard for me to see pictures of myself that are more than just my face. You’ve heard the phrase, “just a shadow of their former self,” well I’m the opposite. I look back at pictures when I was deep in the throes of bulimia. Just my body, not my face, was thin – THIN. I’ve never been able to have that healthily. The holidays – or anytime there’s a buffet or large amounts of food – trigger the eating disorder in me. I can’t puke because it gives me terrible chest pains, though I do still sometimes try. When I can’t puke, I feel worse because I’m stuck with the food in me! Wishing the restrictive behaviors of anorexia upon myself. But I always had to gorge and purge. Anger?

I read about people talking and working with their therapists. I’m jealous. It seems like you’re covering ground. Maybe the few therapists I worked with weren’t the best match. I need someone to push me. Otherwise I hold it all in  and smile up to my top lip. Like my mom. Medications help, but they aren’t here now. I’m not feeling bad right now. But haven’t faced eating yet, talked to anyone or heard how things are going with my son. There’s been no conflict. Those are my triggers. But my chest is already tightening.

Last night, I had a really strong urge to cut because of some things going on with my son who is on vacation. When things go wrong, my fault or not, I turn it all inside. I can’t handle the uncomfortableness of discord. I wanted to talk about it. Somewhere inside I feel responsible for things not going exactly like he had planned. My husband kept saying he didn’t care. (He’s letting our son experience some natural consequences and live with it.) But just hearing the words “don’t care”  and not talking about it, sent shards of guilt through me. Somehow I had done something wrong. I know I dwell, obsess, fixate … I wanted to cause myself physical pain to cover emotional pain. I REALLY wanted to cut. But I didn’t. My sister-in-law gave me two ceramic kitchen knives for Christmas. Very thin and sharp! I can’t say I haven’t had thoughts about the smaller one, the paring knife. Luckily I didn’t go there last night and haven’t for awhile. Let’s hope it stays as ideations and not actions. Life in general is better these days, so maybe it will.

Now I’m older and other things don’t look so well on me either. And I decided, before Christmas, that I would start looking for a job after the holidays. I’m feeling really scared about that. I’m a professional, educated with a master’s degree and terrified about trying to get through a job interview – if I was ever offered one. I’m so afraid of interviewing and how hard it is for me to “sell” myself as being qualified, that I’m likely to take anything, like bagging groceries. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I totally support good honest work of any kind. But I discount myself and if I can’t believe in myself, why would or should an employer? I want to use the skills I have or had, but am afraid that I’ve lost them. I don’t know. And D-Day (post holidays) is only a few days away. GULP! Can I pull the covers over my head until next year?

I just realized …

I just realized I haven’t written in about a week. I have been busy reading other blogs, playing with my puppy (3 months old), making new friends here through swimming class. TODAY, my outlook is good. I’ve had periods of sadness, anger, anxiety … the gamut that usually torment me … but not for sustained periods. The blogs of others, especially  Jaen Wirefly’s (You Know You’re Borderline When …) posts on mindfulness and Gypsy’s (Through my eyes: Adventures in Boreline Land) reminder to think positively. Others have shared progress going on in their lives (Mandi) and just shared some humorous anecdotes about their family and children (John the Aussie). There are others and you’ve all kept me moving forward!

My husband now is employed, almost full time, although still no benefits, so that takes some of the worry off. He is not pressuring me to go back to work yet. I want to, but don’t feel the time is right just now. Making friends and building that support network, here in a new environment, is what I need to do first. The people in our community are very friendly and welcoming. I’m putting forth the effort to make friends, which I never really did before. I’m struggling with parenting a 16 year old boy – who is a great kid, but is still a 16 year old boy with all that that entails. Thank God I’m not a single parent!

Having more than a day or two in a row without the yuk is kind of scary, but good. I’ve been having days with short periods of distress that I’ve been able to stay with and not succumb to. I appreciate the good days and know the bad days won’t last forever. But I know this “thing” won’t ever leave me for good also, and that’s somewhat distressing – but is what it is and not an excuse to check out. I do have a son to set an example for.