Tag Archives: B.P..D

If it’s not the dreams it’s the reality.

Screams rent the stillness of the night. Blackness surrounds, a crushing weight lays on her chest. Wrapped in a prison of sheets, her legs kick as the sweat trickles down her back. The screams stop, the panting begins….on her feet looking for her nearest exit…her mouth tastes of pre-vomit acid, her stomach roiling against the images her mind conjures for her. Memories, half embellished, half true to life…horror movies playing relentlessly whenever she sleeps.
At night, the fears and anxieties she manages to gloss over during the day: they fight back. Whilst she lies sleeping, her conscious mind switches off….none of her defences are there. The armed guards have stood down for the duration. The deflective humour, the scathing sarcasm, the self-deprecation…is all gone. All that is left is her imagination…an imagination that appears to be determined to do what her illness couldn’t: send her insane.
For her dreams, some: they’re just memories. 1080P HD images of her worst times, on an endless loop. Other times; well they’re tricks her own brain plays on her. Her own brain becomes her tormentor (not unlike it is during the day). It plays terrifying fiction videos of half buried bodies down the side of the mountain, each face being someone she loves…Pup 1 …Pup 2….Mum….Sister…and on and on….all the way to the bottom where she’s greeted by a masked man ….. or sometimes, perhaps worse…the dreams….they’re so real she can taste them…and it’s just fear after fear being realised. How many times must she watch her children die?
See, even when I’m sleeping my BPD is against me. Right now, surrounded by trigger after trigger….I’m wondering how I manage to get through it. How I manage to stay one step ahead of the battle and one step ahead of my own mind that is working tirelessly, relentlessly against me. It’s like I’m in a whole other world where I can smell the food….but can’t touch the silver wear.
I fight all the time, especially at the moment…the weather…work…university…everything seems like an uphill fight. I’ll win. I always do. But I can see my behaviours starting to manifest again…keeping exits to my back, or standing in the corner, making hot drinks just for something to occupy my hands, black humour, procrastination…all my little coping mechanisms. And sure they make me odd…but they do something to stem the tide of noise and sensory overload.
Do you know what it’s like to lay in bed with your eyes closed, waiting for sleep and suddenly feel dizzyingly sick as in your mind’s eye your rushing into the back of an articulated lorry and you’ve no way to stop? An adrenaline rush as I lay there doing nothing more than practising mindfulness?
It’s funny really. All my plates are still spinning, yet I can hear them crashing to the ground. The panic is raw in my throat, the blood pounding in my ears…yet still…I’m fine. I’m always fine. Like a swan gliding effortlessly on the surface, beneath it…my feet are paddling madly and my internal GPS system is switched off. I have no homing beacon, so I’ll keep paddling away aimlessly until I happen upon where I’m meant to be. And when I reach there; I’ll take a breath. I’ll stop. I’ll stop to smell the roses.
But in the meantime, my resting bitch face is in situe, I’ll be quiet around people I don’t know, and exuberant with people I do. But all the while my mind is like the waltzers that have been spinning too long and too fast. I’m dizzy and I want to get off.
But as ever this is a journey I’ll never finish, an end I’ll never see. And whilst most of the time, it’s fun and exciting, because hey! Who doesn’t like to be surprised by themselves? At the moment, I’m wading through mud in flip flops.

To my daughters

To my beautiful daughters.

As I sit here listening to music and looking through old photo’s I’m taking a trip down bitter-sweet memory lane.

All of the photo’s capture a moment time. A moment either I was laughing so hard I started hiccuping. A moment I looked at one of your new born faces. A moment I was with your father, my love. All of the photo’s are just perfect. And they’re all precious to me, each one. Documenting my life, and yours, through frozen images captured by an observer.

One day you may hate me for sharing your life so publicly, a week doesn’t go by without my e-mailing and facebooking pictures of you. So for that I’m sorry, but not totally. Because it was my love for you both that made me do it. I was, and am, so proud of you both. From the moment you were born to this very moment, you make me so proud. For your intelligence, your compassion, your stubbornness, your love. I never believed any thing so perfect could exist until I saw you.

So why am I writing this to you? And again putting it in the public domain? It’s because I have another promise to make you. And one I will keep forever.

For my princesses, you two will grow up knowing just how lovely and smart you are. You will never question your worth, or your beauty, or your intelligence, of your compassion, or your convictions. I promise you, you will be humble, and respectful, but know when to stick to your guns. You will know you are loved and cherished every moment you breathe. I promise you, you will never feel like I did. You will never be alone in your dark moments. You will never have no one to turn to, you will never ever have need to have one moment of sadness. Because for every moment I’m alive you’ll be able to come to me, day or night, with any thing. And I won’t judge you, and I won’t be disappointed in you. Because everyone makes mistakes. And everyone gets things wrong. When I’m gone, you’ll never be without me either girls, because you’ll remember that I always loved you.

I promise I’ll raise you to know, without a moments hesitation, that you were both my first, and last thought, of the day. I promise I’ll sneak into your room at night to kiss you, just one last time, until you beg me not to. I promise I’ll kiss you every day and tell you how much I love you, how much I’m proud of you, and how you’re amazing. I promise I’ll be your best friend, and your worst enemy. I promise you, I’ll always be there. I promise I’ll always be honest, even when I know you might not like the answer. But I’ll never be critical just because I’m having a bad day.

Because that’s the problem my darlings, I know my disorder will give me days where I’m struggling, but I promise I’ll do my best to keep you protected from it. Because it is not your cross to bear. Ever. I never want you to think you can’t come to me because I’m struggling. Because no matter what is happening, you will always be the most important.

I’m nothing special my darlings, but I’m your mum, mummy and mother. And some times you will hate me, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to, it will pass. Just like the bad boyfriends, bad hair styles and too short skirts. It will all pass. Just know, through out it all I love you. Fiercely, passionatley and above all else.

I promise to make sure your happy. You will have unhappy times, and I’ll never minimise those. But throughout it all, you’ll be happy, because your core will be happy. So other emotion is fleeting. I love you my precious gifts. Always will do.

I also promise you’ll always have somewhere to go, and that will extend to your friends. When any of you are stuck, lost, and don’t know what to do, you just need to ask, or look at me (I’ll know) and I’ll be there. And I’ll be there for your  friends too, because they matter to you, and what matters to you does so to me.

I love you angels,

Your mother.

Racing. Racing. Racing.

So loud…getting louder all the time.

The thoughts bounce around my skull like children on a bouncy castle. So loud I feel like I’m next to the speaker in a night club.
Thoughts taken over all other senses. All I can see is random words, like they’re italicised in ten foot letters.

Getting a head ache from my own thoughts. It’s just. So. Exhausting. I can’t get silence any where.

My thoughts like burnt sugar. Leaving am acrid, bitter taste in their wake.

They are all bad things. Just so many! I gorge on my own wayward thought process. I can’t switch them off. Funny shapes. Some words are red and bubble written. Some are tiny like tiny mice hiding under their own burrows. The only thing they have in common is they’re all so loud.

Even when I go to bed, exhausted sometimes, and I can’t sleep….I think one tiny thing, like I need to buy tinned tomatoes and there the roller coaster of thoughts begin, I’m stuck on the waltzers and I want to get off.

It’s tiring, draining and exhausting. And when I sleep it doesn’t end…..then the dreams start….

Thursdays taste of bacon, also borderline personality disorder and me.

image

Hey. That’s me!

Labels are awful. Clothing labels itch. Sticky labels, well they leave sticky residue…and personality labels? They’re generally negative, and rarely accurate. My label? The moody one as a child. The married one as an adult. Or the….diagnosed one.

My names Beth and I have borderline personality disorder.

That’s a label I don’t like. And for the longest of times was ashamed of. But now? Its a label I own, and accept.

B.P.D is a crippling, horrendous illness. It’s an insidious disease that skews everything. It makes me irrational and paranoid. It leaves me with such a fear of my husband and children leaving, or being taken from me , it wakes me up at night. It convinces me everyone hates me. It exhausts me so staying awake takes all my energy, whilst at the same time some nights I can’t sleep because of the cacophony of noise from my thoughts that rush and swirl in my mind…leaving in their wake a montage of images so bright my inner eye hurts…..I’m on my own mental waltzers and its no fun. I want to get off.

Its not all doom and gloom though! It has its fun quirks, I can taste some words (thursdsay tastes of bacon) and some sounds look good. I love ferociously, I’m loyal.

People need to be !pre aware of and accepting of how mental health illnesses are actual illnesses. If I was writing this about cancer, you would stretch your arms out and hold me And ask how you could help, same with a broken arm, or diabetes. But because its a mental health issue you avert your gaze, presume I’m attention seeking, worry somehow I’ll pass it to you, and avoid the conversation.

Mental health illness is a real horrendous thing and its not contagious.

I’m learning how to not be defined by my B.P.D., it is part of me but not all of me. B..P.D is why I have scarred arms, why I take super strong antidepressants and 2000mg of omega 3. Its why I’ve tried to take my own life. Twice.

But when my illness is being controlled, I’m the loud, loyal, clever, vain, devoted mum and wife you all see.

So, my point? Look around and be aware of who might have an invisible illness. I hope now you can see that it isn’t Always who you expect it to be.