every tear's a waterfall

I made a momentous decision last week. I decided that enough was enough with regard to my binge eating and weight gain and have re-started my healthy eating and weight removal journey. I feel self-conscious and triggery talking about it, knowing that a number of my friends in the madosphere are dealing with eating disorders and the like. But it had to be done, guys.

Three and a half years ago I paid a LOT of money to have weight loss surgery and while I lost weight (50kg/100 pounds), I've since regained a significant amount. My bingeing is out of control. I am obsessed with junk food. I eat for comfort, boredom, relaxation. These things are not healthy, and I've kind of let them go while I worked on some mental health issues.

Now I'm relatively stable, mentally, I am hoping to find the wherewithall to tackle my eating.

I've restarted my other blog, renaming it Borderline Lil's Losing Weight. Feel free to visit over there www.lastchancelil.blogspot.com or not. I won't be offended!

I am on meal replacement shakes/bars at the moment, which is a medical intervention for obesity and only supposed to be used under supervision. It's a very low calorie (approx 800 cal per day) diet, with the only solid food I'm eating being two cups of low starch vegies per day. So far (this is day six) it's going okay. There's an element of relief...I HATE my addiction to food, my obsessive behaviour towards it, so I'm glad to have the decision making on my meals taken away for now. Reintroducing food, in 12 weeks, will be a challenge I'm sure.

I'm planning to go back for a visit to my weight loss surgeon Gorgeous Jon to see if I need revision of my surgery, or how he can help me otherwise.

I'm fairly certain I have stretched out my reduced stomach, and whether this can be fixed or not, I've no idea. The meal replacement diet will help that, I hope. And I have completely removed junk food and takeaway from my life for now, even though in the end I hope to occasionally be able to enjoy it without going to extremes.

I have also made an appointment with a binge eating specialist, who does hypnotherapy and NLP (neuro-linguistic programming). I've ordered a binge eating book from the internet which is recommended by a lot of doctors and pdocs - it's based in CBT and has a complete programme that goes with it.

What's funny is that I KNOW THIS IS BPD-esque ALL OR NOTHING THINKING!!! But I've decided to USE the all or nothing extreme behaviour in my favour for once, and do something proactive. I'm trying to positively channel my obsessiveness into weight loss and healthy eating.

This is just an update, and I don't imagine I will talk much on this blog about the health plan. I am conscious of my ED friends and their issues, and would never want to negatively affect them/you. But I wanted to share this big change with my friends! And I hope you will all wish me luck (-:

we wear our bruises like watermarks

Thank you so much to be darling friends for your comments previously. I wish I could say things have improved. They are made markedly worse, at the least complicated, by the re-appearance of my lupus in a hideous whole body flare that threatens to render me inert. (FYI - Lupus, or Systemic Lupus Eurythematosus is an autoimmune disorder, whereby the body's immune system attacks itself, eg: organs, joints, skin, rather than attacking external threats like bacteria or viruses. It's usually hereditary and incurable).

I'm not foolish enough to gloss over the connection...mind/body medicine is one of the things that cured my fibromyalgia (kind of similar to chronic fatigue and sometimes connected with lupus) and helped control my lupus, so I know that what I think and feel is reflected in my physical wellbeing. The fact that I've been struggling with some emotional issues has left me fatigued and rundown, and a perfect target for a lupus flare. So far it has shown up as joint pain (particularly my hands and right knee), constant nausea and neck pain. I'm lucky, in that my degree of lupus is very mild (so far). I am medicated for it, which helps, and thus far my autoimmune system hasn't attacked any serious organs. I know people who have kidney and liver or heart disease from lupus, and people who have lost eyesight and mobility. My paternal grandmother died because of it.

Anyway. I am now feeling even sorrier for myself, and struggling even more to maintain a positive outlook. I am even tireder than I was when my problems were "just" mental/emotional. The way I beat fibromyalgia and controlled my lupus in 2005 when I was first diagnosed was through fairly strict mind/body medicine - predominantly meditation and diet, as well as the medication.

I just don't think I have the energy it will take to get well again.

Last time I was ill, my mental state was strong, I was in (what seemed then to be) a supportive marriage, I was barely working in a casual job. Basically, I had a lot in the positives column. Now...it seems like things were just starting to take shape for me in my new work/home, and BANG, life throws me a curve ball. Ain't it always the way.

Neil is even more concerned than before, now I'm even more bedridden and exhausted and complaining. I have to make an appointment to see my specialist and find out if my medication needs changing. There really is only one medication for lupus (Plaquenil) but maybe I need more, or something new might have become available. I was so complacent and cocky... I thought I had the lupus whipped.

My mental state has kind of taken a back seat at the moment. I'm feeling okay, coping mostly with work and getting on well with my adorable man. Big picture is kind of blurry. Finer points are kind of rough round the edges. I haven't felt BPD-ish for quite some time, which is mostly (I think) due to the basic CBT/DBT I have ingrained in me, as well as the medication and a strong relationship based on honesty and boundaries. But the scary part is, I feel like I may be slowly unravelling. If I have lost control of my physical health, is my mind the next thing to go??

Title from Perth band Birds of Tokyo's song "Plans".

a boy, a girl and a rendezvous

Firstly, a big thank you to Jen Daisybee from Suicidal No More for the I Choose to Live Award. This means a lot, as I really do believe living, and living well, is a choice and it's a choice I make every day. For those of you who haven't checked out Jen's blog, please do so - she is an incredibly inspiring writer who deals with Schizoaffective Disorder as well as some other difficulties.

Things have been steadily improving for me, and I am prepared to confess that I may in fact be a little bit "in lurve". It's someone entirely new, who I have only known for two weeks, but so far things are going amazingly well. There are no "buts", no negatives, no clarifications and best of all no qualms from him about being in a relationship. I decided two weeks ago to end things with Anthony, as he was determinedly casual and noncommittal, and seemed to prefer to just take things as they came rather than make plans. It just didn't suit me, and I had started to email my new man (Neil) and felt there was real potential there. We (Neil and I) have been completely honest and upfront from the start, and as a result have become close very quickly. We've had three dates since we met, and each one is more relaxed, more fun and more romantic than the last. He confessed to me that he is looking for true love, which is the first time I've heard that this year. The ten men I have met/dated this year have been predominantly reluctant to even mention love, let alone actively pursue it, so Neil is refreshingly different. On our first date, he bought me a gorgeous teddy bear, and has texted and/or called me every day since we met. He calls me babe and sweetheart. He tells me I make him smile. He does what he says he will, when he says he will.

I know it's early, but I really think this one might be a keeper. We'll see! The finding out is the fun part, anyway!!

I saw Doc A this week for the first time in a month; he has been in Germany for the First International Congress on BPD. He came back with heaps of interesting info, such as Abilify is the "go to" medication they've found for BPD + depression, but BPD without depression does not typically respond well to medication. They discussed DBT (Marsha Linehan was a keynote speaker) and MBT and TBT (this last one is what Doc A says he and I do, it's Transference Behavioural Therapy), and all three have major merit and success in treatment according to the Congress. One of the interesting things is that pharmaceutical companies had very little input into the Conference, which meant that the outcomes and topics weren't as skewed as other Conferences. Doc A is very much against what he calls the "pharmaceutical industry merry-go-round" and refuses to see drug reps at his practice. I'm so lucky to have found such a kick arse doctor. Really makes a big difference.

Hope this finds everyone hanging in there and maybe even doing well xx

Today's title is from Belle and Sebastian's Women's Realm - one of my all-time favourite songs.

supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

On the corner of my street is a big house with an impressive rose garden, with bushes that froth over the wall and into the street. I've taken to stopping as I pass and smell the roses, how cliched. They are all colours, each has a slightly different scent. The reason I share this with you now is that a week ago I didn't even notice them, would walk straight past either crying, frowning or lamenting my fate, or all three at once. But since I followed Doc A's advice and faced my fears, going back to work and sticking it out, things have taken a turn for the better. It really did have a flow-on effect. Friday night I resisted the lure of Lloyd, who was texting me wanting me to go out with him and offer him my usual support and adoration. I felt like I am finally moving on from the maniacal obsession...

I saw Doc A yesterday and he said to me "Patients as aware as you rarely exist in therapy" and "You're so brave, I'm proud of you". Even though I take his validations with a BPD-grain-of-salt, I was chuffed that he said them. I felt like I'd earned them, having been thoroughly sick and terrified of returning to work after my enforced week's mental leave but doing it anyway. And doing it without tears, panic, or escape plans.

I had good news to share with Doc A, and to share here with y'all now. The date with Colin on Sunday was really, really nice. It's a dull word, that doesn't do the event justice, but it kind of describes it. No drama, no meanness, no embarrassment, just solid, easy conversation with a mature and interesting man. I managed to be friendly and outgoing without using my full-on BPD-overdrive Mary Poppins persona - which is a major victory. And yes, he called. And yes, we have a second date on Saturday. And yes, I am happy. Thankfully, it feels more like rebuilding than emotional BPD mood bouncing.

dude looks like a lady

I have another internet-introduction date this evening, and it's brought with it the requisite anxiety and self-questioning. What should I wear? Hair up or down? Flat shoes or heels (this was easily answered as Bachelor Number 2 is shorter than me). The most pressing question is one most of you can relate to, probably, which is whether to tell, and when and how to tell, Bachelor # 2 about the mentalness. It's something I haven't discussed yet with Doc A, but will, as it's been weighing heavily on my mind. Bachelor # 1, the new friend mentioned in my last couple of posts, doesn't know either apart from a vague reference I made to "stress-related difficulties" at my last job. It's something I want to be able to share, but how on earth do I tell someone new, someone who is just starting to get to know my personality, that I'm diagnosed with a Personality Disorder?? I feel like I'd have a better shot if they really knew me first, rather than freaking them out from the first moment. Obviously this isn't a question that needs answering on Date One, but I worry that a new man will feel lied to and betrayed if this isn't brought up at an early stage.

Would welcome any feedback and advice, as always!

In other news, work plods along comfortably and I'm still having a great time living with Michelle. The weather's been diabolical, boiling hot, and we're suffering without airconditioning at work now as well as at home. Roll on Autumn. I feel like I'm in a "no news is good news" phase, so my apologies for not updating this blog regularly. Apart from the new and exciting/terrifying world of dating, I am in a fairly equilibrious state. That's probably not even a word, but y'all know what I mean. This is a good thing, right, being stable and boring and functioning with all cylinders?? Not to say there aren't days when it's a struggle to get out of bed and get to work, or days when I want to run away screaming, but mostly I think I'm doing okay. There's always that nasty niggling nagging feeling at the back of my mind that says "this can't last", but I try not to listen. Oh how I try...

I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl

The problem with rejection is that when it visits it brings all it's obscure relatives that you'd forgotten. The cute guy who didn't add you on Facebook, the guy at work who never noticed you, the boy at school who called you a loser...they all come calling when some new rejection rears its head. To clarify, I don't really feel rejected by what's happened, but it did bring to mind other slights and disappointments, and I automatically believed the rejection came from my innate ugliness, weight and self-esteem issues.

Clarification. For the last week and a bit I've developed a great email exchange with a guy from my internet dating site. He's someone special - smart, funny and kind, and I'm planning to meet him next week. The bummer came a couple of days ago when he told me he'd started seeing another woman from the site, and as he's (in his words) a "one woman man", he can only meet me as a friend. Which is great, truly, because who knows if we would have any chemistry anyway. Perhaps this man and I would have ended up as "just" friends, even if we WERE both single. But I was hurt and disappointed that the opportunity is no longer there. We're still emailing every day, and have an awesome connection (SO much in common) and I can't wait to meet him on Wednesday. I felt a bit sad and rejected (that whole "what about me?" scenario) but I'm cool with it now.

I can't even believe I'm the same person I was six months ago. So far this year I've been out almost every day (movies, lunch, coffee, bowling) and I've actually made a new friend. The new medication mix is definitely working for me, and I'm trying hard to not fall back into old patterns (eg: becoming obsessed with my new friend and making my whole life about him). I see Doc A on Monday, so am planning to update him on all this! Good timing, hopefully he can help me to keep up my good work!

(Belle & Sebastian rock today's title, from Piazza New York Catcher - also on Juno soundtrack!)

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

And I feel fine (as the song goes).

This week's session with Dr A focused mainly on the two tasks he's set for me as homework. A while back he mentioned that me getting my driver's licence would be a huge benefit, not only in practical terms but also because it would mean I had conquered a life-long fear. He's right, and it's not like I haven't already thought of that myself... but the actual physical task of going and getting my Learner's Permit (for the SIXTH time) is beyond me at the moment. However, I have promised to visit the licensing website and do the online Learner's test as practice, and also to find out the costs involved. I first got my Learner's Permit when I turned 17 (the legal driving age in Western Australia), and was also given a car by my beloved grandfather. The car, a 1972 Ford Cortina, had been his and when he died a few months later I wondered if the loss of freedom (he never got another car) had finished him off. I moved to the city a few months after my birthday, leaving the car with my parents until I eventually decided to sell it (having only had a few lessons and not really ever feeling comfortable with the idea of driving in our country town, let alone the Big City). I've had other goes at learning to drive, with varying success, but I've never booked a driving test - the idea of having to park on command, and to follow complicated instructions from the examiner, seems to negate the fact that I am actually a fairly competent driver (according to the various instructors I've had over the last 22 years).

My second piece of homework involves Mr Ex, and the fact that our 12 months' legal separation was completed this week. I downloaded the paperwork (don't you love the technological age) for the divorce but had yet to broach the subject with Mr Ex, especially as last weekend he came along to my Bowling Birthday Party and we had a great time. Not a "getting back together, happy every after" great time, but a great time nonetheless. Dr A had a bit of a go at me for the mixed messages I was sending out willy-nilly... especially to myself. I definitely DO NOT want to be married - to anyone. But that fact remains that I adore Mr Ex, for all his faithlessness and foibles (and by that I don't mean "infidelity". Blame Wandering Coyote's deep thoughts here for the use of the word "faithless" haha). Part of my worries about him, whether he thinks we'll get back together, whether he will do something self-harming. But, in the spirit of "Being In Therapy" I agreed with Dr A that the paperwork needs to be addressed. I printed it all out today and was planning to deal with it when Mr Ex came over to walk his dog. My best-laid plans were thwarted when Mr Ex texted me to say he can't come over today. At least the papers are printed and filled out, and in reality I don't need Mr Ex's permission or signature to file them. I do, however, need an amount of cash to go with said papers. Ouch.

Apart from these nagging administrative tasks, my life continues to sail along. I start my new hours tomorrow, which sees me working every second Monday along with Tues, Wed and Fri each week. On the opposing Monday I see Dr A. Which still gives me Thursdays to sleep in, vege out, blog and blog-visit and see friends. I think I will manage, it's a fine compromise, and having some extra money is always welcome. I can save up to get divorced - blah. I still haven't written to my friend H, who sent me the out-of-the-blue birthday presents. I've been thinking about it, and intend to do it, it's another one of those "when I have the energy" tasks. Being mental is exhausting lol.

One area I need to watch is the continuing urge I have to over-achieve at work. Given that work was my area of downfall prior to this most recent breakdown, I've really been keeping track of my thoughts and emotions at work - and during the week I had a weird "showing off" hypermanic episode. I still crave validation and approval constantly, and have to fight the urge to pursue it from my superiors at work. It's one thing to do my job well, but another thing to undermine other staff, over-achieve, big note myself and get breathless and giddy when I'm given praise. The best thing was, though, that I caught myself in Emotion Mind (as DBT would call it) and could step back and use Reasonable Mind to see the situation for what it was - thereby stopping the roundabout before it got going. Something that might have progressed and spun out of control, was dealt with fairly quickly. Being only low-dose medicated also helped, because I am not as numb/blunted these days I'm more aware of my changes in physiology (heightened colour/warmth, faster breathing, shaking hands, talking faster) which sometimes come along with my Emotion Disregulation episodes.

"Kathy, I'm lost" I said, though I knew she was sleeping

It's strange the things that can bring on the melancholy. My stepdad bought a dvd today, of Simon & Garfunkel's Concert in Central Park (1981 I think) and has been playing it while I was in the kitchen cooking. For a lot of different reasons, the songs brought up memories, mostly sad. When I was about 10 years old I found an LP record in my parents' collection that had a handwritten name on it I recognised. It turned out to be (as I suspected at the time), one of the few things my mother kept that had belonged to my father - a Simon & Garfunkel record that I would secretly play when my mother and stepdad weren't around. Over the years I became more and more enamoured of them, and folk music in general, and I ended up buying the Concert in Central Park album in about 1987. Hearing the songs again reminded me of how in those days, at 17, I was still under the misapprehension that being depressed was something I would "grow out of". I believed that all the low moods and suicidal thoughts were part of my groovy & creative personality and I channelled them as much as I could into writing songs, stories, poetry.

What struck me the most today was that I could recognise melancholy approaching, and rather than eagerly laying down and becoming its mistress, I fought it and won. I used Mindfulness to view the feelings objectively, and could see clearly (maybe for the first time) the two paths on offer. I could either go with the sad memories, and add to them in the same way I was adding ingredients to my vegie soup, ending up with a confusing mess of mixed emotions and general blah. Or, I could feel and acknowledge the sadness/loss, briefly revisiting the memory of the past before letting it go.

Half an hour later, instead of being bedridden, binge eating, self-harming or bawling, I was finishing off making my soup and starting on brownie cheesecake (as my birthday treat for tomorrow). All the while still singing along with Simon & Garfunkel (that's one long concert lol).

I used to think that my over-emotional or extreme reactions to songs, films, books, etc were part of my personality. With DBT, I view it differently -- the reaction is the first, "normal" part of the equation, and the BPD encouraged me to take the reaction to the extreme and let it overwhelm my thoughts and (therefore) my emotions. With the new filter of my Wise Mind I'm learning/trying to enjoy the reaction to the song (for instance), but keep it in context and balance. It's still not second nature to me, but I know it gets easier to practice DBT/CBT skills.

One of my all-time favourite songs, and my favourite S&G tune, is "Kathy's Song". I used to cry when I heard it, especially the lines:
"I sit and watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you, go I"
Forgive me if I've misquoted, I'm writing them from memory! Anyway, today I heard those words in a completely different context and they didn't make me sad. I even half-jokingly substituted "DBT" for "you" in the final line. This morning could have ended up very differently, much bleaker, without my new therapy. A few people I know who have done DBT call themselves "DBT Geeks", or DBT Obsessives - experiencing it work really does make you a convert/true believer! I hope I don't come across as simplifying Borderline, or other mental illness, and I am definitely not saying Dialectical or Cognitive Behaviour Therapy is the only way to treat these things. They have just worked for me, after many years of NOTHING working. And I wanted to share it.

The Trouble With Love

I've decided the trouble with love is that its a finite resource. Much like gold or copper, once its gone, all that's left behind is a dry and barren landscape which is good for nothing. Today I was thinking about all the great passion in my life, for boys mostly but also for "obsessions" (some ppl call them hobbies lol), and how that passion is so closely linked to my illness that I doubt I will ever "go there" again. I just couldn't trust myself to feel that extreme and still remain emotionally in control...yet I don't know how else to be when I am involved with someone or something new.

So I'm left with the feeling that while I may have a productive and sane life for the next 40 years, I doubt whether I will ever feel that grand love. I've spent the first half of my life being crazy for things...crazy for boy X,Y or Z, for girl A, or for Dawson's Creek/Barbies/Scrapbooking. Then I was just plan ole crazy. And now, I'm not crazy, I'm mostly stable and sane, but that seems to come at the price of losing the passion. Or at the very least curbing it.

I do think it's a step forward, to grow up and away from all-consuming hyperattachments, crushes and obsessions. But I think I will always miss that mania. This time last year, every breath was pure adrenalin and excitement. I longed to go to work to interact with Lewis, and to feel hilarious and gorgeous and fabulous. There was always that emptiness underneath, though, which is the nasty worm in the Borderline apple. While I may not scale the dizzying heights of lust and passion, these days I can sit safely in my own skin for long moments at a time without wanting to rip myself apart. It has to be a good thing.

Xenophobe

I really don't play well with others.

I love y'all here in the virtual world, you don't require anything from me apart from occasional touching base and a modicum of honesty when I do so. As part of the online mental health community, I know that my friends understand how hard it is to form sentences and make sensible comments when in the grip of madness. In the real world, it's SO damn hard to fit in and feel comfortable. The way I have coped with this past year, with psychosis and diagnosis, is to stop being part of the "real world" in anything but a token way. Leading up to my breakdown I was permanently "on"- hyperattaching, falling in love, falling out, imagining enemies, experiencing vendettas. It exhausts me to even think about it now. No wonder I am spent... strung out and tired of the nuances and negotiations. These days, I prefer my own company and can barely make the effort to hang on to the couple of friendships that have survived the post-BPD-mania fallout.

At work, everyone gathers at noon to have lunch together. I can't tell you how irritating this is. I'm using all my coping skills to just stay focused and be productive, and then I have to sit and make chitchat with the nice ladies? Oy. They are the friendliest group of people I've ever worked with, and I know that compassion is something they have in spades, but for obvious reasons I don't feel inclined to share the whole "crying/slashing/screaming/blackness" that was the first half of 2009. I've been really strong, and followed Dr A's advice in not over-sharing or being trusting with people until I make real connections with them. In the past, my MO has been to throw myself headfirst into social situations, showing off and sharing all my gory details in an attempt to impress people and "make friends". I'm not interested in being that person any more, truthfully, I cringe at the memory of it.

I'm embarrassed at the so-called bonds I imagined I had with people.

I'm hopeful I'll never leave myself open to manipulation and ridicule like that ever again.

Even if it means living a solitary life, I need to stay away from that kind of behaviour and its consequences. Since I've retreated into my own world, things have been undeniably smoother and calmer. Away from the drama and potential fuck-over that is "Other People", I'm making some headway and feeling like I may actually live to see 40. It's not reality, and some day Dr A is probably gonna expect more from me than "getting to know myself". I really think, though, that I might be someone who needs to live a life somewhat removed from others. The big areas of catastrophe in my life have been those involving connections to other people (both men and women, platonic as well as sexual).

Meanwhile, I am finding myself "finishing up" at my desk for ten or fifteen mins after lunch has started. Then, I take a while to make my lunch. So that hopefully I only have to face the conversational firing squad for twenty minutes maximum. I try not to, but I feel guilty for being so "antisocial". These are kind, sweet ladies, who just want to get to know me. How can I start to explain the grocery list of reasons why they really DON'T want to know me??

How It Starts

The last couple of days have been less than stellar. You know how it goes... you start to feel stronger and more able to cope with life's logistics. You spend some time (in my case, ably "advised" by parents) going over the financial train wreck once known as Your Budget. It's never a cheerful prospect, and for someone separated from her bread-winner husband just on 12 months (a bread-winner who is gleefully gorging on all his own damn bread now thank you very much), it really hurts. When we split, the two main debts Mr Ex and I had were split down the middle, with me taking on the $23,000 personal loan and him taking on the $19,000 car loan. Then, in those early heady days of post-marriage possibility, I was still working fulltime. I was living with my parents, splitting rent and bills, but still with a solid support base if and when required. He was moving out on his own, and the decision to do so had been thrust upon him, so I cut him some financial slack. He doesn't pay child support for the three animals we have, I have paid for his private health insurance since the split, and a couple of weeks ago he flew across the country on vacation paid for by his family. Bitter much? Ha!

Now, a year and a breakdown later, the repayments on the loan are about 1/3 of my total earnings. I've had to cancel my health insurance and gym membership. I can't declare bankruptcy without the loan defaulting to Mr Ex, which would painfully and permanently put an end to the amicable divorce. On top of this, Mr Ex's sister generously gave him her as-new laptop computer, so he "gave" me back the rental PC we had signed up for, along with the $100 a month payment. I found out that the rental contract can't be cancelled and to buy it out will cost $1500 (more than a new PC is worth), so I am stuck paying the $100 a month til Feb 2010.

I don't know why I'm even re-living this, or sharing it. I suppose this is a space for venting, and I do need to vent about the roiling fury that simmers in my stomach when I think about my finances, which are currently sitting on death row with no hope for a pardon. I got myself into this, don't get me wrong. I know that the BPD-fuelled spending, and general lack of budgeting, over the last 10 years have created a pit of debt that I deserve to inhabit. It's just that my day-to-day living is so damn pathetic and dismal (compared to the whirlwind of fancypants mania spending), and this New Deal budget my folks and I have worked out basically means I have to not buy coffee, lunch, magazines or food - ever. And the one outing I have per week, tenpin bowling, is in serious danger of being taken away. I literally can barely afford to survive. My food and rent and bills are subsidised by my family, only slightly but enough to make me feel unworthy and invalid. Ah, the catch cry of the Borderline...

I am trying to stay focused on the reasons for the belt-tightening, which are that I am dealing with a serious mental illness and therefore am only able to work part-time. The fact that I have a great job, and can function pretty well there, are things to be proud of. So what if I have to live like a pauper for the next five years? One day I will be free and clear of this stupid personal loan, and free of other debts because I won't qualify for any credit until hell freezes over. I am trying to focus on the things that don't need money, the important parts of my life that I love and adore which don't cost a cent (thanks Michelle!).

It scared me, this week, to feel derailed again and to lose the early glow of great-job-happiness. My favourite saying at the moment is "there is no recovery without relapse", and these less-than-stellar times will test my mental health. Today, my day off, I watched Buffy and slept. In a way, this was kind of the last straw. I had to get the Buffy videos out of the local library as my DVD-by-mail monthly rental plan is another casualty of the New Deal. Luckily, my ancient VCR still works...

Mental May

From what I can gather, May is going to be a rockin' month for the "mentally interesting". Not only is May "Mental Health Awareness Month", apparently Congress in the USA has also decreed that May be "Borderline Personality Awareness Month". I heard from my friend Jennifer over at BPD in OKC that May 15 has been designated the second Wear Purple for BPD Awareness Day. There's a lot to celebrate!

I am following Jennifer and Wandering Coyote's lead in supporting Chato B. Stewart's Cartoon-a-thon and have donated my $25 in the hope I will be immortalised in a Chato caricature! I think that's just the thing to cheer myself up and to celebrate this great month of Mental May.

Layered, As An Onion

Sometimes it feels like I am shuffling deck chairs on the Titanic (as they say). Or maybe I'm building a particularly precarious matchstick bridge over this raging torrent I call the River Crazy. As I posted yesterday, I constantly question the point of planning, of having ideas and making choices. What if, what if, what if. Nonetheless, I went to an interview yesterday for a job so exqusitively perfect for me it should be framed and hung on the wall in order for it never to tarnish or disappoint. Three days a week - exactly what I think will work best for me financially and logistically. With a not-for-profit organisation, specialising in literacy. Great team of women, laidback office, interesting and varied work. There were 6 of us on the shortlist, and I will find out one way or another by the middle of next week. Don't you just love that expression "one way or another"... such an innocuous way to describe the beginning or the end, the heaven or the hell of things.

Mr Ex took me to the interview, as he is on holidays and a genuinely decent bloke. The office is located a fair way away, but for 3 days a week I can manage the bus trips. Having a lift there and back for the interview was terrific, and we spent a bit of time together afterwards. In a few days it will be one year since I decided I had to put the dying marriage out of its misery, in order to salvage some happiness for Mr Ex (and maybe, myself). I can see he is more himself again, and that rips at me more than anything. I always believed I was a person who added to situations, to people, rather than took away. But although Mr Ex will say I was everything to him, and brought so much to his life, I would be an idiot to not recognise the path I took him on was nothing he would have chosen or imagined for himself. Still, I made the hard choice for both of us when he was too stuck and too afraid to make it, and every piece of serenity he's gained since then reassures me that it was the right thing. For a while, I wondered if he would fight to get me back, or try to convince me we should try again. But a year later, it hurts me to look him full in the face and realise he is scared that I will ask for another chance.

I blamed so many issues for my marriage problems, and told myself I was leaving to pursue a lot of different things for myself. I have achieved none of them, and now I realise that I was telling myself stories of an exciting and passionate life full of truth in order to disguise the facts... I knew a breakdown was coming, and I could not survive it for both of us. I had to know that Mr Ex was relinquished of responsibility this time, so that I could avoid the crippling guilt and the temptation to fake my way out of it. He was, and is, my best friend, even if we were never ideal marriage partners, the friendship is still there. And this year I have been overwhelmingly relieved that his involvement with this breakdown was limited, and that he could get on with his life without the mental wife hiding in the closet.

Being alone is also the only way I will be able to fight my way back from this illness, knowing myself and my behaviour as well as I do. There are so many layers to my Crazy, like an onion I peel back one only to find another and another. There are scary times ahead, as I start to realise some of the truth at the centre of the layers. But this time I can't just put the layers back together hoping no-one will notice the weeping cracks. This is one time when it HAS to be all or nothing.

Twitter Me This, Twitter Me That

I have recently become enamoured of www.twitter.com, after reading about Demi Moore thwarting a fan's suicide attempt. Not only have I started following some online and "real time" friends, I've also managed to net-stalk some brave celebs who have Twitter accounts. There are an amazing number, some more interesting and involved than others - Demi and Ashton are two of the more well-known Tweeters, I have also been reading updates from Ellen, Taylor Swift (bless), Mandy Moore, Rainn Wilson, Phil "Amazing Race" Keoghan and Stephen Fry. There's something strange and yet slightly comforting about it...the 140 character updates from people who obviously (like me) really DON'T have anything better to do right now.

If anyone wants to follow me, I guess you can just search BorderlineLil. Rest assured there is nothing thrilling over there that y're missing out on!

Which brings me to something a little more relevant and supportive in a day-to0day sense, especially for those folks just finding their way in the Borderline Personality Disordered world. Through BPD in OKC and her kick-ass blog, I found a new support site - BPD Haven. It's just starting out, ably mentored by Leona (herself a person coping with BPD), and I have been over there and registered. These things need input and activity, so I'd encourage anyone with BPD, or anyone who knows someone with mental health concerns, to check it out. Click on the link above, or type into ye olde browser http://www.bpdhaven.proboards.com

I'm determined to enjoy this last week of freedom before I hit the work trail once more. Spending time on all the boring stuff: "where the dickens did I put my work shoes?", "crikey, do ANY of my pants fit me?", "is it too warm to wear a jacket to work?", "where will I eat lunch?", "will I make friends mommy?"

The Way It Feels For A Girl

In the last month I've dreamt about Lewis four times. I haven't spoken to him in 6 months, it's more than 5 since I last clapped eyes on him. Yet he comes to me at night and reminds me of why he was the one who changed it all, and who changes it still. How is it that someone can make me laugh until I cry in a dream, yet the next morning I can't remember what he said, or how he looked, I just get that overwhelming reminder of how good I felt being with him. I read somewhere that dreams reach forward from the past to make a point about the future or the present. What are you trying to tell me, Lewis...

I have such a long and detailed list of my hyper-attachments, starting at age 9 when I stole perfume and jewellery from my so-called best friend in order to better emulate/become her and have her tricked-up life for myself. Lewis came into my life last year, 12 months ago almost exactly, when I was already feeling uneasy in my shrinking skin. It took a few weeks, which is a long time for me -- often my BPD hyper-attachment crush strikes me one day and is set in stone the next. (The one after Lewis was literally picked from the crowd, with a friend, CS, directing me as to my best bet for my next Flirt Object.) Anyway, Lewis moved desks at work to sit opposite me and the rest is platonic crush history. Hundreds of emails, shared DVDs and CDs, sotto voce confabs, laughing, laughing, laughing and lo and behold, suddenly I'm sleeping alone and not wearing my wedding ring. I in no way blame or credit Lewis for me finishing things with Mr Ex. His smart, sarcastic connection with me just rocked an already sinking ship. Next thing, Titanic city.

In the way of these things, invariably my BPD style of psychotic bonding freaked him out. I moved departments. We drifted apart. I chose my next victim, and therein lies a whole new ball game. Let's just say, I don't dream about HIM. But Lewis...ah, Lewis. He'll always be special. He told me the truth , which is always scary for the deluded among us! My adoption of his culture introduced me to Saxondale and Chewin' The Fat. He handled me, and the strange love/hate roundabout we were on, with sensitivity and aplomb. Mostly. I don't know what the dreams mean, or if they mean anything. I'm fond of telling people who confide their dreams to me that dreams are junk mail from our subconscious...but that's more to make them shut up than because I believe it to be true! I always have a soft spot for previous MFO (Main Flirt Object)s, except for the ones I've attempted to poison or who took out restraining orders - JOKE!

If I had to look back over the last year and pick out fleeting moments of happiness, they would all feature Lewis and my friend Michelle, who for a short while formed a triumvurate of anarchy with us in our staid and oppressive workplace. Maybe that's why he still features in my dreams, because I've always been lucky enough to create a BETTER world in my dream state, rather than deal with nightmares where I'm naked, redneck or being chased by dogs. Trying to recreate recent joy, I guess I naturally turn to Lewis. It used to always be I. Oliver in my dreams, my long-lost soulmate and star-crossed lover, but he is a long and sad story for another day.

By the way, here's a secret for ya. Sometimes, in the dark part of my heart, I wonder if I really want to get well, if it means losing that all-consuming rush of hyper-attachment. I miss it, I crave it more than anything else "forbidden". I struggle with it every day. I dread going back to work if only because it throws up that possibility. Here, safe at home, there's no-one to hurt me. But there's no-one to adore, either. A dilemma, no?

Visual Cues

I'm considering doing one of these graphs each week and displaying it like a flashcard for Dr A, so he can better "assess" me. It's colourful. It occupied some of my day. I am trying hard to focus on the tiny, but brightly visible, sliver of hope still present at the top.

I keep thinking longingly of the activating qualities of fluoxetine. My memories of taking it (2000) are clouded by the intense migraine headaches I had at the time, which may or may not have been a side effect. I imagine myself lucid, energetic and focused...less "rejection-sensitive" (Peter Kramer, Listening to Prozac). My shrink was torn between prescribing an activitating SSRI or a sedating one (namely citalopram aka Celexa, Cipramil). He asked me to make the decision...ie: "would you rather turn positive behaviours ON, or turn negative behavious OFF?" How the %^$#$%^ would I know? I used to think the "right" medication (or the "right" relationship, job, pair of shoes) would do BOTH. Would make me turn away from cake and towards the gym. Would make me see beauty in the mirror instead of horror. Now... I seriously doubt the capabilities of medication. Been there, done that.

• Fluoxetine - failure.
• Sertraline - failure (admittedly after working for a couple of years)
• Mirtazapine - failure.
• Diazepam - failure.
• Venlafaxine - GROTESQUE failure.

Of course, these days I have a more accurate diagnosis and with that, the realisation that medication doesn't really help Borderline Personality Disorder the way it can help other mental illness. Basically, the way to work through BPD is therapy, continuing the CBT and DBT I have started. Dr A seems to think that the therapy might be "easier" with the help of fluoxetine, make the darkness lighter and the energy levels a bit higher.

I know I keep flogging this dead horse. It's what consumes me, when I'm not trying to decide what kind of cheese to eat lol. I'm fairly sure that once I get my disability/heathcare card (with it's associated discount on medications) I'll shuffle off to the pharmacy and fill the script. If only to deflect the questioning of the persistent Dr A. And I will take the tiny pill (or half), and try not to choke on the weight of my sliver of hope.

I Was A Nightmare, You Were A Saint

I don't make a habit of reviewing films. For great discussions of Rachel Getting Married you should visit Wandering Coyote's blog, Bon Dobbs (isn't that a cool name??) or Mystery Man On Film. These guys do a better job of describing the film than I could. I only reference the film here in relation to me and my experience of it! What's new haha? I saw the film today, and loved it... related to it, admired it, hated it because of the reflected pain from my own life/family history. During the film I kept remembering Marsha Linehan's description of BPD as having third degree burns on the emotional skin, so that every tiny experience of pain is amplified to agonising. Personally, I most often say that it's like every bone in my body is broken, as the pain from a burn is more "searing" or sharp, and my emotional pain is not usually so acute. More dull, throbbing, aching, permanently "there" on the periphery of my awareness.

Anyway, I am a huge fan of Anne Hathaway, being a dedicated Princess Diaries fan. I thought she did a remarkable job playing the character Kym, who may or may not be Bipolar or Borderline but has certainly struggled with an addiction to narcotics and an eating disorder. Kym demonstrates a plethora of character traits and behaviours a lot of us can relate to- rapid mood cycling, impulsivity, confusion of self, paranoia, and Anne Hathaway is interesting and convincing in the role. I would like to say the movie or her performance made me cry, but in fact I was just crying as accompaniment, really didn't notice a stopping or starting of the tears, they were just part of the whole experience. I really couldn't NOT cry... I was sorrowful... I was struck all over again by how damnably hard it can be to form relationships with ANYONE, let alone people we are thrown together with by accident of genetics/birth. At one stage, there was a parade of seemingly healthy, outgoing, sociable and articulate people wishing the bride and groom well -- an inexplicably mulitnational, musically gifted group of friends and family. People quoted, emoted, sang, played saxaphone. And you just know there's going to be Kym's turn coming around, and she will be the odd one out. I don't know if I believe in the well-rounded and blessed first group, they just don't ring true for me. Emotional truth and raw, bleak honesty, however, seem to be what fits. The title of this post is one of Kym's great one-liners. Without spoiling the plot for anyone who wants to see Rachel Getting Married, I completely dissolved into sympatico giggles when Kym starts to say "That's not fair!" People in the audience behind me were tsk tsking at the character, criticising her I suppose for her self-centredness. But Kym, honey, I hear ya. Sometimes, it ain't fair.

On a musical note -- yay that the little-known UK balladeer Robyn Hitchcock gets to play himself and sing a couple of tunes during the wedding reception. He reminds me of the folk greats...Dylan...Neil Young (wonder what Mr Young thought of Unknown Legend being acapella-ed during the Rachel Getting Married wedding ceremony??)

Betty Blue

Not a stellar day, but not among the worst. Blah. Dr A set me the task this week of going to the gym every day, and the last 3 days I've managed it (and enjoyed it). Today, I couldn't do it... could barely get out of bed, felt generally unwell and not depressed or anxious, mainly tired I think. Maybe the last three days' workouts have taken their toll!! Prior to this week, I hadn't been to the gym for a couple of weeks due to the hideous side effects of the medication withdrawal. So maybe the aches and pains are genuine muscle pain LOL. Anyway!

I just took the day "off" from my daily plan of getting up, showering and taking my supplements before 10am, going to the gym, cooking dinner, and journalling/homework. It sounds like so little, but I know y'all can relate to the fact that sometimes even that "little" is too much to handle.

I stayed in bed and continued my cultural trip through madness and addiction. I am re-reading The Bell Jar as well as a couple of other books, and also rewatching my collection of DVDs and videos that deal in some way with the issues I'm faced with. Postcards From The Edge, When A Man Loves A Woman, Tom & Viv, 28 Days, Bennie & Joon, Mad Love -- I obviously like great hair on my crazy movie ladies. I often say to my friends that my life as a Borderline is exactly like Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted except my hair has never been that cute. I'm being glib. But one thing is true, I would rather watch a movie about addiction, alcoholism, mental illness, rehab, suicide than about anything else. I suppose lots of people are like that, preferring something they can "relate" to. While I was thinking about all this tonight, I found a list on the internet of "Movies and Mental Illness" . It lists every kind of disorder and phobia and then lists all the movies which portray these illnesses/experiences. I was gob-smacked at the long list of Borderline Personality Disorder movies. Then I was horrified to see the following nutso female caricatures in the list (none of whom I had previously considered to have BPD):

• Single White Female (homicidal woman obsessed with flatmate)
• Basic Instinct (homicidial woman with a variety of issues lol)
• Fatal Attraction (homicidal woman obsessed with someone else's husband)
• The Hand That Rocks The Cradle (homicidal nanny obsessed with child's father)
• Play Misty For Me (homicidal fan obsessed with radio dj)
• Misery (homicidal fan obsessed with novelist)

These are six of the classic crazy women of film, the characters that are continually referenced in popular culture! And they all end up killed, I think?! I don't know what, if any, actual diagnostic proof the list author has for putting these films in the BPD category. It gave me a chuckle, in a dark and twisted way. A few of the movies in that category are films I've loved and related to over the years - Betty Blue (again with the great haircut), Breathless, Something Wild, Looking For Mr Goodbar. The list author also adds a couple of classics to the mix - Wuthering Heights and A Streetcar Named Desire, amazing and troubled characters for sure but again, BPD? When Gone With The Wind is classified under Narcissistic PD? Made me think anyway...

Oh, and just when I had spent hours analysing this filmography, I found Look Who's Talking on there. Yep, the 1989 comedy starring Bruce Willis as the voice of a talking baby. Ohhhhhhkaaaaaay.........

The Drama Club

Dr A used a throw-away line on me on Monday, saying something about "Cluster B types" - naturally I have been obsessing and Googling about this Cluster B stuff, and found out that it's a category of Personality Disorder. Cluster B, the Erratic/Emotional/Dramatic PDs, includes Antisocial, Borderline, Histrionic, and Narcissistic. Suite 101.com (which as far as I can tell uses "laypeople" to write non-fiction articles, I guess kind of like Wikipedia? But it seems to pass itself off as more "scientific"...PLEASE jump in and correct me if I am wrong!!) seemed to be going for the chuckle element as it subcategorises Cluster B as THE DRAMA CLUB.

Am I the only one pissed at that?? I know, I know, I'm a hypocrite after going on yesterday about BPDs being erroneously categorised as humorless HA! But it seemed like a stupid description for two reasons:

1. "Drama" being used these days to go with Queen, seems to intimate a choice of overacting or acting out...rather than having a genuine inability to regulate emotions.
2. And "Club"...don't get me started...oh, okay then, start already HA! I seem to remember having to APPLY to join the Drama Club at school, as well as any other damn Club I wanted to be a member of. While I am proud to be part of Cluster B (or whatever) and I am determined to make the best of everything life throws at me, I don't remember filling out the application form for Borderline Personality Disorder. How anyone would call it a CLUB is beyond me.

The irony is not lost on me people, fear not. I'm coming across as humourless - and I'm not! If it was me, or another "sufferer" of BPD (and man I hate calling it "suffering"), saying "hey, come join my drama club", I would be laughing louder than anyone. But Suite101.com seemed to be adding itself to the long list of purveyors of "stuff-n-nonsense" about Personality Disorders.

In Effexor Withdrawal News, the electro-pulse disco is still raging in my head. It's the hardest sound effect to describe. The thing it reminds me of the most is the noise the Bionic Woman made when she jumped extra-high... I found a .wav file here http://members.tripod.com/tiny_dancer/70bionic.wav for anyone who is curious! The noise comes and goes in my head, and it physically feels like my ears are trying to "clap" together. I swear it's true lol. I can also only stand upright for half an hour at a time, and sleep for most of the day. But the side effects of the withdrawal have been almost all physical. I am keeping a close eye on my moods and emotions, but so far so good. I think the fact that I was on a fairly low dose, for a short time only, has meant that my come down has been fairly mild. I have ramped up my Calcium, Magnesium, Fish Oils and Vit E and have been slugging down water. Dr A suggested 3 litres minimum per day.

Guilt

Sometimes I wish I was a psychopath. Or is it a sociopath? The type of person who suffers no guilt or remorse and pretty much goes around doing whatever the hell they like. I am consumed with guilt this week...I should have returned to work on Monday or Tuesday, and here it is Wednesday and I am still in my pyjamas at noon, still obsessively researching, reading and blogging about my issues lol. If only self-obsession was a vaild career choice. I think that technically "sociopath" is the same as psychopath...let me check wiki...well, the wiki gods say that sociopathy describes psychopath AND personality disorder - but not MY personality disorder, naturally.

Damn it, why couldn't I have been an antisocial personality rather than a freakin borderline. All these definitions and descriptions help me not a jot. I have an appointment with Dr A this afternoon, and it's going to be a bit of a strain. He insisted I go back to work this week, as a form of "distress tolerance" (apparently a part of Cognitive Behaviour Therapy). I cannot believe that I need to be distressed in order to learn to tolerate it...can't I just remember all the past moments of distress and work on those?? Why do I need to create NEW distress??

I am sure I'm not alone in this, but I really have to fight wanting to show up to my appointment fully made up, articulate, fashionably dressed, and remarkably "high functioning" as always. WHY do I need to impress everyone all the time... it's clearly screwy... Dr A will hopefully see through my incessant need to be perfect and realise I am one episode away from permanent incarceration in the loony bin.