Hi y’all. I didn’t write last week, and I could lie and say I was busy, or I didn’t have any new content. The truth is that a had a BPD related episode. I don’t even remember what I was so upset about- it probably wasn’t very important. One of my biggest struggles with my BPD is the lack of emotional stability. One moment I’m laughing at every joke, the next I’m super depressed, and the next I’m filled with anger. The smallest things in life can feel like a really big deal to me, which is why it makes sense that last Sunday, I was super angry about something that didn’t really matter.
Monday was a stressful day, filled with all sorts of events that could increase my anxiety. I was a little snappy, but for the most part, I did relatively well. I left work a little after 9PM that evening, and by a little after 10PM I was having a full-blown panic attack. I didn’t have control over my actions, what I was saying, or really anything. I was laying in bed, practically face-down, whispering over and over again “I just want to die”. I’m not sure how long this lasted, maybe 15 minutes. Tyler came and held me, and I eventually fell asleep for the night.
Tuesday morning I woke up feeling anxious. I probably was dealing with some emotional hangover from the night before, considering I literally cried myself to sleep. The day was stressful, but I got through it alright. I left work sometime after 6, and spent the evening feeling pretty depressed. I rarely feel sad, but depressed is a feeling I’m quite familiar with. It’s like this emptiness that physically weighs me down. I want to die, but I’m too lazy to carry out an action that would hurt me. It’s being stuck, and lacking the ability to do anything about it.
Wednesday I woke up feeling physically exhausted. I peeled myself out of bed, determined to slog through the day. I spent the morning bouncing off the walls, vacillating between exhausted and hyper and excited and depressed- all while working away. I made it until about 11AM until before someone struck the wrong tone with me, and I fell apart. I ended up self-harming, pulled myself together, and survived another day.
Thursday morning the first thing I thought about was being sexually assaulted. I couldn’t rid my mind of flashbacks. I was reliving a moment that I never want to relive over and over again. I tried practicing the mindfulness exercises I learned in DBT, but I couldn’t keep my thoughts in the present moment. Getting out of bed, taking a shower, walking to work- all the while picturing a terrible moment. I made it through the morning, self- harmed for the second time this week, and had an appointment with my therapist in the afternoon. For the remainder of the day, my anxiety was pretty bad. Tyler and I went to the Rivercats home opener that evening. I had a great time, and told everyone around me I was having a great time. At the same time, I was feeling really depressed. I just wanted to drink and eat everything. I didn’t really have much will to live.
Friday, my anxiety was even worse. I was at the point where I started avoiding gatherings of people if they were optional. As a side note, please, pretty please, do not guilt trip me about avoiding group gatherings. If they are optional, and I’m not in a solid place mentally, it’s better for me not to go. Skipping out means that I’m taking care of myself. I don’t want to explain over and over again that I was feeling too anxious, so please, just don’t. My anxiety ebbed during the peak of the day, and then shot back up towards the end of the day. When my anxiety is high is when I really struggle with people touching me. It makes me feel like I don’t have control over my own body, and can even send me into a panic attack. When I was leaving work, I had a good friend say hello and reach out and grab my elbow. I literally jumped, so much that someone else in the hallway started laughing at me. I almost ran out of the building and I speed-walked home. I wasn’t quite hyperventilating, but my breathing was way too fast. When I made it home, I immediately took Klamath for a walk to help calm me down.
This is what a week can feel like when you have BPD. Don’t get me wrong, not every week is like this. Sometimes, I’ll have a series of days that are fantastic. But other times, my week will look like what I just described, where every day is a fight. Breathing is a fight, feeding myself is a fight, not self-harming is a fight. Sometimes just doing the basic activities to live garners all of my energy, both physically and emotionally, and I don’t have much left over for anyone else. As with every post, I’m not looking for sympathy, but just for a little understanding.
I’m working every day on bettering myself and living a happy life. In fact, I’ve been working for quite a while now. During DBT this week, the group was discussing purpose in life. I expressed how I was jealous that others felt purpose in their lives, and how I’m not quite sure there is meaning in much of anything. A group member told me that she’s been in therapy for 13 years, and finding purpose and meaning doesn’t come overnight. It’s a reminder to me that I need to be patient with myself.