Am I human yet?

Sometimes I don’t feel human.

I assess my life and realise it’s a some total of experiences and memories and I get stuck. I realise to some extent everybody is made up of where they’ve been, lessons they’ve learnt, what they’ve faced. It shapes us as people. But sometimes I feel like I’m not a person, I’m a robot, who I am, what I do, it’s dictated by who I once was and who I have been. It feels like I’m on autopilot and it leaves me asking questions like why did I do that? Why are these memories still there? Why does no one know this about me? When will I just be normal?

For the past couple of weeks this has been my state. All because of one thing, one word I said. One counselling session I had and within that just one answer I gave out of many. The word I gave as my answer, a one word answer has left me experiencing flashbacks everyday. Sometimes on the days I’m not distracted, it’s left me experiencing them all day, unable to do anything much more than relive my memories.

I hate the word flashbacks.

It brings to mind Hollywood scenes of people lost in there thoughts then snapping back to reality with people around them looking confused. Whenever I think of the word my mind goes to the newer Charlie and the chocolate factory film. Where Willy Wonka flashes back to his childhood in a dramatic manner and makes people question his sanity. The reality is much different.

I always have the same one to begin with. When it happens I go onto autopilot, it doesn’t stop me doing the things I need to do. I can hold a conversation, work, go about my daily life without anybody noticing. While I’m doing that I’m also lost in my memories. I can remember everything. I can remember the conversation, how everything looked, how I felt, what I was wearing, what the 2 other people involved were wearing. I can remember how the front door looked, how the sun was out, how everyone was sat. It’s all consuming and no matter what I look like I’m doing or thinking, I’m not thinking about anything but what my brain has reminded me of.

I say I always have the same one to begin with, sometimes it’s others but when it’s this one I know I’m in trouble and it’s this one that I’ve had everyday recently.

Once that ones over it goes to another, then another, sometimes it’s stays in the same place, I relive every moment of being in that place. Sometimes it’s stays there for a while and then moves on, suddenly I’m back in the back of an ambulance, I’m back on my bathroom floor, I’m back in hospital.

Sometimes after a few minutes I’ll snap out of it and feel I’ve got away lightly, sometimes it will be hours later and I feel unable to carry on and I beg with myself to forget about it all, to move on, to be normal.

Sometimes, like right now, I debate running away, hopefully thinking if I started a new life somewhere everything would be better, I’d forget everything that’s ever happened and start becoming a person.

Sometimes, like right now, it becomes to painful and I start to hope that I have an overactive imagination. That non of these things really happened and that I’ve made them up without knowing. But as hard as I wish that I know it’s not true.

With the flashbacks come a desperation to tell somebody every single part of my existence. Every story I have to tell and hope that makes them go away, but I know I can never do that.

Sometimes I write it all down, but I’ve learnt that that only makes it more vivid.

Like an unwelcome hotel guest they take up a room in my brain and when they come I’m reminded how much I hate them and I’m left just waiting for them to check out.

They are the part of my life I don’t have a plan for, I don’t have a coping mechanism. They come and go as the please and I am left helpless until they leave.

Fighting with Food.

I’ve never been a normal weight. I’ve always been big. When I was 5 I weighed 5 stone, and every year I put on another stone until I was 14 stone at 14. After that I started to try and do something about it for myself, I was motivated for myself rather than other people telling me what to do. I became the queen of yo yo dieting. At my lightest I was 11 stone, my heaviest 18.

Funny thing is I don’t particularly remember being an unhealthy child, I don’t have recollections of eating too much or eating junk food, I remember looking at my thinner friends at meal times and thinking “you eat three times as much as me, why am I the fat one.” I may not remember how I got that way, but I do remember what happened as a result of it.

When I was 5 my school sent me to a dietician, I was told I wasn’t allowed seconds at meal times and wasn’t allowed puddings at school. I was never bothered about losing the food, what I was bothered about was the isolation. I was 5 and I was already different to everyone else but I didn’t lose any weight.

When I was 10 my mum took me to weight watchers. She’d send me off to school with i box of lettuce (literally) and I’d weigh in with the adults every week. I never lost any weight.

When I was 12 I went on slim fast. I took milkshakes for packed lunches and ate salads for dinner every day, I still never lost any weight.

The reason I didn’t lose weight was that I ate in secret, I was and still am an emotional eater and even worse sometimes a bored eater. At those young ages, I was already unhappy, and the thing that distracted me from that was food.

But then something changed. At 13 my mood was even lower, I suddenly wasn’t just a bit sad, I was depressed. I wasn’t struggling with puberty, I was struggling with my existence. That’s a tension that takes more than food to release, that’s also when I found self harm. Suddenly I didn’t need food to calm the emotion anymore, I had a new way. So I started dieting, really dieting, i did every quick fix in the book and learnt all the tricks. I was determined and I was going to be thin. Little did I know then that that was just another coping method, another thing for me to obsessively control. But, I did it. I lost the weight.

Then disaster struck, my self harm was discovered. My mum ran through the house and collected anything I could possibly hurt myself with. She checked by bags after I’d been shopping, there was no where to hide anything. Suddenly my coping mechanism was gone.

So I ate. I ate a lot.

Then I felt guilty I’d messed up my diet. I felt ashamed I was so weak. I felt horrified at the disgusting person I thought I was.

For the first time I made myself sick… and I loved it, every single second, especially getting on the scales.

I felt safe in my habits, I would lose weight, I’d get pretty, I’d finally fit in with my friendship group, and best of all I’d never be caught. Because no one expects the fat girl to have an eating disorder.

It became a daily occurrence, multiple times a day for as long as it took for my mum to forget about the self harm and weaken her guard so I could pick it up again. When I could start self harming again the food stuff became less intense.

It was always there.

Always.

But the vomiting emerged and disappeared again like the moles in the old arcade games of whac-a-mole.

The dieting came and went.

My weight yo yod. I could go from obese to normal weight and back again in a couple of months. I was good at losing weight. I was good at putting it on.

I learnt the calories in everything, I learnt every pro-mia and pro-ana trick in the book. I could sit for hours and tell you the easiest and most effective methods. The film ‘to the bone’ (which is probably one of the most accurate ED films I’ve ever seen) describes this as ‘calorie Aspergers.’ Although I don’t appreciate the analogy fully, I get where this is coming from. It’s an obsession, an addiction, it’s time consuming and all consuming.

I spent years like this, and they came and went pretty quickly when I look back on it. Sometimes eating disorders are made to look glamorous but the very real side effects meant that –

I started to lose my hair.

My teeth started to rot to the point they would just break in half and fall out.

My nails were yellow.

I was always shivering.

I missed social events that involved food or drinks because of fear of calories.

I failed a subject at school because I was to scared to get up and get some more paper because I thought I would draw attention to how ugly I was.

I refused to leave the house, I firmly believed I was so ugly if someone saw me in the street it might make them sick.

I found a new thing, chewing food and spitting it out, all the taste, non of the calories.

Then I went to university. The freedom only made my habits worse until by the end of first year I was spending so much on binge food I was getting myself in debt, I was throwing up over 5 times a day. Some days I felt like that wasn’t enough so I would take 40 laxatives as well. I even started smoking because I read it was an appetite suppressant.

One night, like many others, I passed out on my bathroom floor. When I came round again I had the realisation that I was literally flushing money down the toilet.

The next day I registered for a doctor and made an appointment, I was referred to the ED department of the local mental health services (after being told, really helpfully, that I shouldn’t get my hopes up for treatment because they only treat ‘proper eating disorders’).

A few months later I sat infront of a doctor. He told me he’d read my notes and asked me what I thought the problem was.

I told him I didn’t know.

He told me that was a lie, that I was a smart girl and I knew myself that I was bulimic.

He told me we would break for lunch, he said I could stay in the room if I didn’t want to eat and he would bring me some water.

He recommended me for treatment and put me on meds to stop my oesophagus rupturing and sent me on my way.

He got it. He didn’t tell me I was to fat to be Ill. He didn’t tell me I was making it up. He told me it was real, I wasn’t on my own and I was going to get treatment. After the session I went to the shop, I bought food for dinner and I ate it, and I didn’t get rid of it.

I had a mixed experience in treatment, in the end I gave up going because it was setting me back but it didn’t make the treatment itself wrong, in fact the skills and thing I learned set me well on the way to recovery.

For a while food wasn’t an issue anymore.

But like any addiction that’s not dealt with properly it was always in the back of my mind. My mood cycles change regularly and you can guarantee that each one changes my relationship with food. My disordered food behaviours are always the first coping mechanism to reappear and the last ones to leave.

I catch myself with different thought patterns depending on my mood.

When everything so stable I get healthier, I eat better and I exercise more and I find myself losing weight in a healthy way. Weight loss is always in my mind. But when I’m stable in my mood I think about it logically, I am overweight, that is physically unhealthy and needs to change. To do that I need to eat better and exercise. I can talk about weight loss, tell you that I am comfortable in my appearance but need to lose weight for my physical health and be confident that I believe this.

When my mood is low I catch my own bad though patterns and behaviour but I’m never willing to change it. I have an underlying belief that my weight is what makes me unhappy, so when my mood sucks I believe that I’d be completely happy all the time if I was thin. So I start the quest.

Firstly, I stop eating and drinking. A few days in to that I’ll start to feel ill from dehydration so I’ll drink. Then I’ll feel like I’ve messed everything up so why stop there? I’ll eat again. Immediately after I eat I’ll feel like a failure, get rid of the food by any means possible and finally feel empty again. Feeling empty gives me a buzz, getting on the scales everyday to see the weight coming off gives me even more of a buzz. Then the cycle will begin again and will last until my mood changes, and then a bit longer while I work on breaking the cycle I create.

When my mood goes up, I’m awake for days, I shop for clothes even more than normal and I work on smashing calorie and weight loss targets. I get weighed everyday and depending on what the scales say set my calories for the day, anything between fasting and 1,800 calories. I burn off what I’ve eaten because of the boost in energy that comes with hyper mania. When I’m in that state I’m always successful and nothing can stop me. I get the buzz from going down clothes sizes.

I have come to accept that although generally if my mood is stable food isn’t a big issue for me anymore, it will always be an area I relapse into. I will never have a normal relationship with food, and to be honest I don’t even know what that would look like for me. Now it’s about controlling the patterns, maybe my next relapse will only last for a couple of weeks rather than a couple of months. Maybe I can pick up warning signs quicker than normal.

A stable mood means more stable thinking, I can identify the things that trigger my behaviours and I can avoid them. I can stop conversations that will set me back. I can stay motivated by health rather than a desperation to have a thigh gap.

But nobody is permanently stable, whether it’s mental health related or not there are always Highs and lows, and for me there will always be food based behaviours that go along side that.

While I was in treatment I was given a list of what normal food behaviours were, it was explained to me that I just take them to extremes.

It is normal to eat junk food or overeat on a bad day. It is not normal for that to mean repeatedly binging and feeling guilty about it.

It is normal to not eat as much if you’re stressed or agitated or even just busy. It is not normal to stop eating for a week because your preoccupied.

It is normal to cut out certain foods to try and get healthy. It is not normal to cut out all food.

Being diagnosed with bulimia and BPD has made me realise how most of my issues come from living in the extremes and struggling to find a middle ground. I rarely focus myself on eating disorder recovery, what I need to focus on is living in the middle and not the extremes. In BPD talk we use the terms black and white and grey. It is natural for me to live in the black and white, I need to live in the grey. We also call it ‘splitting’ or ‘split thinking’ which are terms I identify with all to well. I strongly think that when I get to grey, if I ever can get to the grey, most of my issues will fall in place. I think my issues with food aren’t issues with food, they are issues from the mentality I carry in most areas of my life, they are issues that don’t belong in the grey.

The lies I tell myself.

I’m currently on holiday.

I’ve had a pretty shit few months and I thought I just want to see some sun, so booked a break and here I am, sat on my balcony I’m Tenerife, red from the sun, watching Netflix with a stack of drink from the all inclusive bar, over looking the sea.

There’s no place I’m happier than in a hot country, it’s the place I crave for pretty much every day. Anywhere will do as longs as there’s sun and sea to look at.

But I find something weird about being abroad. The sea, the mountains, the sun, it makes me realise how small I am and how actually as humans were pretty small and insignificant and I find that liberating. I also find it’s where I do my best thinking. I become this deeper person. inward looking, constantly questioning, forward planning, existentially philosophising about my life is a task that faces me and chases me around the pool.

This time I’m on holiday with my mum and on the first night she asked me some questions and there began this years questions for myself. She asked me about my future and I answered her with my rehearsed lies. The lies I tell everyone and tell myself so often I’ve started to believe them but when I said them to my mum. I instantly came to the realisation I don’t believe them. So let’s take a look at them shall we?

1-my view on having kids.

I tell everyone that asks me that I don’t want my own children, that I just don’t see the need and I’d be happier and freer on my own.

Truth is I desperately want my own children, I’d be an amazing mum. Truth is I Darn’t admit that because it would mean I’m failing at something I want because I’m such a long way off. Truth is I’d be terrified of bringing a child into the world because they might inherit the pre disposition for mental illness that all my family has, and I’d hate to think I’d bring life to someone who would battle so hard with it.

2- my views on a partner

I tell everyone I don’t want a partner, that I’m independent, that I make my own decisions and don’t have to consider anyone else and that’s best for me

Truth is I’d love to find someone but I refuse to put myself in any situation that might involve a relationship. I’m too much to handle, what if it didn’t work out and it triggered my BPD and it fucked me up even more? What’s the point in trying when I’m so unattractive? Who would ever want someone like me?

3- my view on my career

I tell everyone I don’t care what I do as long as it’s helping someone.

Truth is I don’t really care about that right now, what I actually want is a job that’s easy going and enjoyable so maybe just for once I could focus on having fun rather that stuff that’s so intense, but it feels to selfish to admit that.

4- my views on my past

I tell everyone I’m over it,

That it doesn’t matter and I don’t blame anyone, things just happen and now fuck it, I’ve made something of myself.

Truth is, I’m still angry. There stuff I’ve never told anyone, and even the fact I’ve not told anyone makes me angry. Truth is I feel pretty hard done by, why me? Was it my fault? Who am I to still be upset by all this stuff? But actually, why was it me? Things happen and have happened that should never and that’s not ok.

5- my views on God.

I tell everyone that I don’t believe in God, that i am against organised religion, that the whole thing is ridiculous and cult like.

Truth is I do believe all those things, but I’m desperate to believe in god again, I just don’t. I constantly flashback to my church days and I get it out of my head as soon as possible, because I flashback to the hurt and the pain and the embarrassment I faced. But I miss the purpose, I miss feeling like there’s a point. Sometimes I try and convince myself that god is real and I made a massive mistake leaving the church, but it just doesn’t stick.

I could go on and on about this topic fo days, but 5 is a nice round number and it already got to heavy for my liking, so for now, that’s all.

How I feel about the show ‘Crazy Ex Girlfriend’ as someone with a BPD diagnosis.

Crazy Ex Girlfriend is a TV show that started running in America in 2015. It only recently became known to me because it was put on Netflix and a few of my friends were watching it. To be honest it came up as suggested a few times but I ignored it, assuming it would just be another rom com about a girl trying to get back with a boy and eventually doing just that. What Crazy Ex Girlfriend actually is, is an exploration of relationships from the perspective of Rebecca Bunch. The protagonist struggles with her mental health and coping with the effects on her every day life. Her story is told through comedy, musical numbers and some intense moments. In season 3 Rebecca Bunch is diagnosed with BPD, borderline personality disorder. As someone with that diagnosis, I generally think they do it as well as possible. Comedic musical theatre TV is, I imagine, a difficult genre to cover a series mental illness so let’s allow some artistic licence. That being said there are still some parts of the show that made me cringe.

What I think was done well –

  1. Ok, so I’m kind of starting at the end here, but this is the part of the show that made me think “I’m so glad they did this.” When Rebecca Bunch googles BPD the show goes into the answers you find on google about the illness. It shows the characters response to these (and it was exactly the same as my response). It shows on the screen how when you google BPD, the internet will tell you that those who suffer are unstable, manipulative, untreatable and 10% will eventually kill themselves. The show talks about how misunderstood the illness is, and even follows the googling scene with a scene from a Rebecca Bunches therapist, talking about how the internet is full or misguided and uneducated information on the subject. I’m so glad this was addressed, stigma and BPD is a massive issue, and this raised it as just that.
  2. Can we just praise the show writers for actually using a BPD diagnosis. This is hardly ever done in TVs and film. If you google shows about depression, anxiety, bipolar etc, a lot of films are suggested (I’m not saying they are correct in doing so, or that they are accurate, or that they haven’t caused damage and stigma in themselves). If you google shows about BPD, you get a list of 1, Girl Interrupted, the rest of the lists consists of fans that have suggested certain characters have the illness but it’s never mentioned. So just using the diagnosis, giving it a name and talking about its symptoms is amazing.
  3. The instability of BPD mood changes fits in perfectly. I’ll admit in the beginning it annoyed me, I felt like the show didn’t portray how long it can take to get over small events and how debilitating it could be. However the nature of TV is that things are resolved in an episode, which fits perfectly with BPD. In an episode of the show we can see a full mood cycle, which is how quick mood cycles can be in real life. It also showed how the little issues that caused instability build on each other if they are not dealt with correctly and how catastrophic that can be.
  4. The show explores moods other than depression. BPD is not mood changes between depression and “normal” it’s also anxiety, hyperactivity, over excitement, impulsiveness etc. Rebecca Bunch is a character that experiences all of these things. The show explores them, there impact and how characters deal with them.
  5. A massive symptom for most people with a Bpd diagnosis is fear of abandonment. This is the focus of the whole show, and it shows how different breakdowns in relationships can influence mood, or how successful relationships can heighten moods.
  6. The show makes reference to anxiety, delusions and disassociation. I particularly love the idea of Rebecca’s anxiety manifesting itself as a hallucination of her younger self. I also love that the show didn’t chicken out of this and made it obvious that it wasn’t just a dream or staying in Rebecca’s head but was actively effecting her ability to function and the other people around her.

The show picks up on some of the small issues that generally get missed and go untalked about. In fact the whole are of BPD is often a silent one with little discussion in culture and media. This show is a step forward, it’s hilarious, brave, entertaining and educating. Also, Rachel Bloom, the actress playing the protagonist is one of the best I’ve seen, both in her comedy and in the depth of the character, she also helped create and produce the show, so you know, genius all round.

That being said, there are some issues I have with the show.

  1. Paula – Paula is Rebecca’s best friend throughout the show and although I love her on an entertainment level I have some issues with how she is portrayed. It is very clear that Paula has some faults, she’s not perfect, non of us are, but she is displayed as a positive and helpful person. This is where I disagree, Paula feeds into Rebecca’s behaviour and struggles to see it is unhealthy until a while into the show. In fact, as someone with BPD I relate to a lot of Paula’s actions and feelings, maybe even more so than Rebecca’s. The need for approval, need for excitement and the need to try and make everyone happy are all things that can also be part of BPD. If someone asked me for advice on a similar friendship I would be encouraging them to limit the influence of that person.
  2. The lead up to diagnosis, if you’ve not seen the show, before the event that leads to diagnosis everything is chaotic. Rebecca does some, well as in the title of the show, crazy stuff. I felt like this went too far, obviously there’s always going to be an entertainment aspect to a show, but watching the things Rebecca did left me in a panic of “people are going to watch this and think that’s how we actually behave. ” Although everybody’s illness is different, people with BPD are generally not stalkers, kidnappers, threatening or prone to psychotic laughing while standing outside someone’s house.

3. Now, I am not one for being adamant that recovery language is the only way we should speak to each other. If I want to call myself crazy, I will. If that’s how I talk about myself or how someone else who struggles wants to talk about themselves as a way to cope that’s also ok. If someone else wants to refer to me as crazy, that’s not Ok. Essentially that is what the title of the show does, by calling it Crazy Ex Girlfriend and then diagnosing, it insinuates that those with that diagnosis are crazy.

Finally, I wanted to separate this point because I believe it is a general issue with Netflix and other streaming sites rather than just the show itself. I found parts of the show difficult to watch. Not in a stereotypical triggering way but in a “this show is so close to home it’s sending me into my own panic” kind of way. I saw so much of myself in Rebecca’s character that it sent me into similar thoughts stemming from ‘that’s so accurate, I probably am going to be alone forever’ and ‘it’s true I have no idea who I am without that certain person as well.’ And ‘what am I doing with my life, maybe I should run away.’ In fact on the back of watching the show I applied for loads of different jobs all over the country and googled how much I’d need to save to be able to run away and start again in my own search to be happy. As dramatic as that all sounds, that’s the nature of the impulsivity, thought spirals and emotion changes of the illness the show is dealing with. Yet there’s no warning on the shows description, there’s no indicator that it may be triggering or that the show deals with a serious mental health issue, or that the show may touch on sensitive areas. Come on Netflix!

5 Songs…

I’ve neglected this blog recently. I keep seeing it in my diary that I’d planned to post on a specific day and then ignoring it. I guess that’s partly because my beauty and lifestyle blog and YouTube channel are growing and it’s exciting so I’m putting a lot of work into that. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

Truth is, I find it really easy to blog most of the time, but right now I really don’t want to. I have a style of writing, it mainly involves overcompensating for anything negative I write with humour and positive cliches. I write that way because I think it’s more enjoyable to both read and write and I can cover up what I actually think by typing a well timed pun, comment or fuck. It’s difficult to write like that when you can’t see the positive and don’t have the energy to pretend to be witty.

So anyway, last night I left work and went in my diary to make sure I had my next shift correct and I saw on today it said that I should post. Past Naomi was trying to be organised and had even chosen a theme to write about. Thanks past Naomi, that really irritated me. My immediate thought was “maybe I can blow that off and write a new eyeshadow palette review on my other blog and still feel productive.”

The theme I was going to write was “5 songs that help me in recovery.” But fuck that, because right now I don’t care about the songs that help me in recover, I care about the songs that help me feel sorry for myself. So here it is “5 songs that help me feel sorry for myself and make me even more likely to ignore the world and get back into bed” (catchy blog title I know).

Sometimes, and by sometimes I really mean sometimes, I think it’s OK To wallow maybe even healthy in some ways but it’s also important to recognise it, move on and work on it. Logically, I know that. However, right now I’m really good at the wallowing part, the rest not so much. Let’s just note that this is also quite a sarcastic post, it’s partly written to help me recognise how stupid I’m being and partly written as a sarcastic look at my own behaviours, I’m going to sound like a dick at times, but I’m ok with it.

1 – Empty Apartment by Yellowcard

I have no idea what some of these songs actually mean or are talking about. Sometimes it’s just a line or a phrase that catches me and helps me in my self indulgent spiral. The line in this song that hits me right in the broken bit of my brain is “how’s your life, what’s it like there, is it all that you want to be, does it hurt when you think about me and how broken my heart is”. I mean, I’d write about why but I think it’s pretty self explanatory.

2 – I Can’t Do Anything About It by Felix Hagan.

“As the walls are crumbling I am tumbling to the ground and I can’t do anything about it”

“Give me the keys and I’ll wait outside and I’ll smoke myself into a hole”

Because why take responsibility for my own wellbeing when I can ignore it and sing “I can’t do anything about it” repeatedly and pretend I have no power over my own life so as to avoid any work on my own health I should be doing?

3 – Same As You by The Fray

“You can stand if you want to, fall if you want to, I’ll do the same as you”

There’s something really beautiful in this song, it talks about compassion and how someone is willing to do the same as another person for comfort. I like to twist it and use it to fuel my anger at people in general by listening and thinking about how no one would be willing to do that for me (actually a lot of people would but that doesn’t fit in with my feeling sorry for myself attitude)

4 – You Should Be Here – Cole Swindell

“Everything’s just right except for one thing, you should be here”

There’s nothing to make you feel more sad than a song that makes you think about your dad who died last year. Although on a alternate note when this song does make me sad it also reassures me, like hey, look at you having normal emotions for a valid reason, you can be a normal person.

5 – Plain Sailing Weather – Frank Turner

“Give me one fine day of plain sailing weather and I can fuck up anything”

Well yeah, that’s just me in a sentence isn’t it? However having this on repeat also get me of my arse because I think if I carry on, that sentence really is going to be true.

Anyway, that’s all for now, I promise next week I’ll get back to scheduled blog posts with a happier overtone. Sometimes it’s just more fun to be a negative dick, you know?

The problem with my birthday…

My birthday is on the 9th November. For those of you who never know the date like me, that was yesterday.

To celebrate, me, my mum, her boyfriend and my biological mum packed up our bags and got on a first class train to London. We ate a fancy dinner, saw a show, drank fancy wine and went on a river cruise. We set up everything to be the perfect experience, and in many ways it was. We saw all the sites and we enjoyed each other’s company and yes, we had a great time, I had a great time.

(Disclaimer : it gets a bit darker from here guys, if you suffer with suicidal ideation or depression it might be tricky for you. Please turn around and find a different post, may I suggest one of mine that isn’t triggering? I’m also going to get pretty honest but don’t worry, I have good professionals working with me and I got this 💪🏻)

But there was a little problem. Yesterday my sole focus wasn’t only my birthday, it was also the depressive episode I’m currently in the middle of and the relapses that have come along with it.

I mean, my birthdays bring along the normal existential crisis a lot of people have, like “fuck, when did I get so old?” “What have I done with my life” “what is the meaning of my fastly passing existence.”

In a depressive episode, these normally valid and normal thoughts turn into something darker. Instead of thinking “what have I done with my life” and then Laughing it off over some alcoholic beverage, it turned into “what have I done with my life, nothing, I’m worthless and so is my life, what’s the point.”

I spent moments through the day terrified that someone was onto me, someone would notice the sign of relapse and it would lead to horrible conversations. I spent some of the day hoping that someone was onto me and would come and save me, not my family, you see I have this over the top and ideal fantasy that one day someone, a stranger will come to me and tell me they know what’s going on, and then they’ll save me and fix the parts of me that broke. You see, on depressive days it’s difficult to accept the fact that I am the one who has to fix the broken parts in me.

I sometimes see my life as a smashed mirror, I look at the pieces and try and put them together or I give up and leave the pieces on the ground, or I wait for someone else to put them together, or I get in a strop because I want a fucking new mirror. Mirrors reflect and in some ways I think that’s what a birthday is, we reflect and celebrate the year before and then look to and plan the next year (after partying a lot). But what if I’m in a state that means looking back is to painful and looking forward is full of anxiety? Then, it becomes all about the now, and we’ll now is my birthday, and now is meant to be a celebration.

Birthdays are a celebration of being alive. I am proud that I am still alive, it was touch and go for a while. I didn’t think I would see this birthday, or the birthday that went before it. That I can celebrate, even on my darkest day.

But, I can also question, what if I wasn’t here to see this birthday? Would that be so bad? Do I really want to be here for another year? Do I really want to put the effort in again to fight through this? Would it be so bad if 26 was the final year?

Well, I guess at the core, birthdays are about hope for the next year and so for now, I have to stick to that until things get better, because despite all the shit, things do eventually get better.

Maybe it’s worth the 6 months of depression for the month of stability.

Maybe this will be the last 6th months of depression I get.

Maybe the depressive episodes will get shorter and shorter.

Maybe.

For now, even if I can’t celebrate my birthday, I can celebrate the maybe.

Of all the things I could have broken.

I broke my personality.

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So today is world mental health day, a specific day in the year where all the bloggers who have had mental health struggles or have them currently come out in full force to write about it. Turns out this year I am one of those bloggers.

I am not critiquing,  in fact I think its important that as many people as feel strong enough talk about there experiences without shame or fear. What disappoints me is that we are in a society that needs a specific day to do this. However, thats not what I was going to write about, thats a whole other rant for a different time.

I didn’t know what I was going to write about for today, I had a few ideas floating around in my brain, but I thought on a a day which aims to raise awareness and combat misunderstanding, I am in a position of being diagnosed with what I believe, is one of the most misunderstood illnesses. I am diagnosed with an illness that a lot of people haven’t really heard off. When I talk about it and give it its name I’m often met by ‘what is that’ or ‘how does that effect you’ or in a few cases ‘I thought that was just a made up thing for films.’

So heres what Im going to do, I’m going to tell you about the signs and symptoms of having Emotionally unstable personality disorder or borderline personality disorder (BPD) the ones straight from a text book, then I’ll tell you what they actually feel like, well what they feel like for me. Personality disorders are a spectrum, so it feels and looks different for every person.

A quick google of BPD brings up this diagnostic criteria on the NHS website

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Emotional Instability. 

Lets just focus on that label shall we, how off-putting does that sound. ‘Hi I’m Naomi and I’m officially unstable.’ That been said, I am unstable, my mood changes rapidly based on seemingly insignificant events. The smallest comment can boost my mood or cut it down. The littlest event can send me into panic. The tiniest compliment can spark hypermania. I have worked to contain my mood changes so people who haven’t known me through my ‘severely broken brain’ stage  may not register them and I can have decent relationships and day to day experiences. That being said, I can register them. I know that my mood cycles haven’t changed that much, and, to be honest there isn’t a ‘cure’ for BPD so I am aware that they will for the rest of my life. That is a hard pill to swallow, it’s also fucking exhausting. On days I’m finding it harder to contain my mood changes, these are the things you might notice.

  • Going from talkative and funny and over exaggerated to silent in seconds.
  • Being unable to concentrate.
  • Finding it difficult to string a sentence together.
  • Being unable to follow a conversation.
  • Being forgetful.
  • Coming across as ditsy, or dumb.
  • Smoking a lot more.
  • Appearing lazy or frequently saying ‘I can’t be fucked’

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Disturbed Patterns of thinking or perception.

This phrase covers a lot of different elements of BPD. It covers paranoia, intrusive thoughts, negative thinking and psychosis. Here are some of the common BPD thoughts I have.

  • What is the point… in anything?
  • Everyone hates me.
  • The world would be better if I wasn’t in it.
  • I made a mistake, I fuck up everything.
  • People always leave, no one thinks Im worth staying around for.

This section of diagnostic criteria also covers the bizarre aspects of having BPD. It is a comment trait for those with BPD to experience elements of psychosis when there emotions are to intense. Lets have a look at some of the Gems I’ve come out with while in that state shall we. Feel free to laugh, I do.

  • ‘Am I the devil?’
  • ‘If I really put my mind to it and pray hard, I think I could stop ISIS’
  • ‘That earthquake that happened was obviously my fault because I said something horrible.’
  • ‘I can’t answer my door, theres a man with a chainsaw on the other side.’

Disassociation is also a common trait of BPD, and probably the thing that I still struggle with most, but I also don’t know how to explain it. Its basically like your brain goes to auto pilot. I can still finish tasks I can still function, but I’m not thinking. I don’t know whats real. Everything feels like that stage when your falling asleep, when your not quite asleep and your still registering part of what is going on, but your on the edge.

Impulsive Behaviour.

Impulsive behavior is simple really. Its all fun and games until you come round and have to suffer the consequences. It can be anything, shopping, gambling, sexual behaviors, drinking, self harm, suicide, the list goes on. For me impulsive behavior comes in two elements. The first is all about what will make me happy, or what will make me feel better in the moment without taking into account the consequences. Like I feel shit so I’m going to go spent all my pay check in one go. Or Im bored and its taking me into a and place so I’m going to drink until I’m passed out.

Then theres another element, perhaps a more difficult element. Which is intrusive impulsions. In English that means that I have thoughts about self harm and suicide that come out of no where. I can be perfectly happy and have a really good day, then suddenly my brain is like ‘why don’t you stop the car and jump off that bridge’ or I can be feeling sorry for myself but dealing with it and my brain says things like ‘hey, self harm, that was fun.’

Intense but unstable relationships with others.

This is an interesting one for me. I tend to not notice a relationship is unhealthy till its to late and I’ve already done some damage. A big part of BPD is fear of abandonment. Sometimes that makes me act in obsessive and dramatic ways. I also rely on certain people. I, luckily haven’t had friendships break down because of this, but that is not due to my behavior its due to the strength and compassion of the friends around me.

But, it means that my brain works over time.

Don’t answer one of my texts? Its because you aren’t really my friend. Cancel our plans? Its because you hate me. Don’t talk to me for a day? Its because you don’t really care.

Or thats what my brain tells me anyway.

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The problem with BPD.

There are so many problems with the way BPD is viewed and treated. I have had my share of shit experiences in official capacities and in my interaction with people. BPD is seen as an incurable illness, there are no meds that will stop it and therapy has limited responses. It also has one of the highest suicide rates of all mental illnesses. 2-3% of the population have BPD. 10% of these people will die by suicide and 80% of people with BPD  will attempt suicide. There are failings in our mental health systems, and most of these come down to funding, why fund treatment for a disorder with no cure? Well, I can say recovery is possible, when its done in the right way. It takes time, and effort and its exhausting and its slow. But things can gradually get better, and relapses become just relapses.

So lets talk about it, because shame is never going to lead to recovery.

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