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.

when the first cup of coffee tastes like washing up she knows she's losing it

As the last couple of posts will attest, I am struggling just now. I took a week off from work, annual leave / mental health leave, and went to see Doc A a few times to try and work out how to get back on track. What I thought was my illness, or a general breakdown, he blames entirely on my focus on Lloyd and the dysfunctional relationship we're in. While I admit that there's a lot of energy being sent the way of the Unsuitable Boy, it's hard to comprehend that he/my reactions to him are entirely to blame for the shitty way I feel. When I am with him, I'm happy(ish); we've been spending a lot of time together over the last week as he was in hospital and needed my help (always a bad sign, as I am incapable of resisting the lure of someone who needs me...).

Doc A flatly refused to write me a medical certificate for disability. He basically said I could sack him and find a new doctor, but as far as he is concerned I am not incapable of working, I just need to focus more energy towards work and less towards the Unsuitable Boy. SIGH. I know he is right. His theory makes sense to me -- I am preoccupied with the friendship-that-can't-be-more, and the constant disappointment he gives me. Doc A pointed out that the main fear of a Borderline is rejection/abandonment, and the way my relationship with Lloyd is, that is all I ever get from him. Because I love him, and he doesn't feel the same, any time I spend with him is a constant reminder of those failings.

I am back at work today, shaky and worried, but I am here.

I am trying to minimise the Lloyd Effect, and have a date with a nice man named Colin on Sunday. Doc A suggests that I keep trying to work on functional, positive, rewarding relationships as it will help me to move on from The Unsuitable Boy. Intellectually, I am completely aware that Lloyd is wrong for me, and in fact is an arrogant, selfish SOB. But my heart has made a connection that won't just go away. Obviously it has to go away... yet it's not an easy transition. I have decided to try and limit contact with him as much as possible, try to minimise the addiction/craving (as Doc A describes it!!).

Thank you everyone for your lovely and supportive comments lately, it's really made things better. I am continuing to fight the good fight - and with your help, my medication, some DBT and Doc A I will make it to a happier place! I am determined, my friends xx

Thanks to Belle & Sebastian for the title of today's post, it's from their song "She's Losing It"

Happy 200

I can't believe this blog has been going for more than a year, which means my "official" BPD diagnosis is also more than a year old. It's my 200th post today - and I want to say a massive thank you to all my readers and commenters. Having you guys around has made the last year a LOT more enjoyable, and I hope some of my ramblings have helped other people to feel more sane LOL, or less alone.

I feel as though I should do some kind of a retrospective to mark the 200th post. It's certainly amazing to me how much has changed, in my physical life as well as my mental/emotional life. Working hard with Doc A, and practising my CBT and DBT skills, and finding a good medication balance has meant that I can function fairly well most of the time. I've returned to work, moved out of my parents' house, and started dating. A year ago, none of these things seemed possible. I owe a lot to Doc A, and to my family and friends who have been supportive, but I am recognising how much of the work I did myself. I was determined to survive, and to even thrive, and even when I was most despairing, I hung on to the hope. Even in the darkest times, I focused on the tiny glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, and I think that's what got me through. It gave me the strength to keep working at therapy and to resist the evil BPD voices in my head when they told me to binge eat, shop, pull out my hair, scratch my skin, obsess, scream...

There are times when I wonder if I can keep up the effort, but I get through them (occasionally with the help of a Valium LOL). Events of the past year have tested me, often, but I do feel like I have made progress and am functioning pretty well. As mentioned in an earlier post, Doc A says that if I came in now to see him for an initial consult he probably wouldn't place me in the same Borderline Personality Disorder category, that he would assume I was at worst a mild case. I am attached to my diagnosis, so I don't know how I feel about having it taken away!! It seems weird to think of myself as just Lil instead of Borderline Lil, even though I know that it makes perfect sense - I am not JUST my diagnoses, I am a complete and whole person underneath the crazy haha.

As an update to previous posts, I am still spending time with Lloyd, though part of me suspects he doesn't deserve me LOL. We are technically "friends", and see a lot of each other, and in many ways I'm happier without the relationship label. I am still in two minds about him, and our relationship, but being with him (mostly) makes me happy. It's weird that I'm almost 40 years old and am finally falling for an Unsuitable Boy. I always made sensible, rational choices when I actually committed myself to relationships in the past, even though some of my fantasy/obsession/crushes were kind of out there. But something about Lloyd makes me retract all my feminist beliefs and my rational decisions. My friends and family think I deserve better, intellectually I know that he needs to step up and be a man, but there is a big part of me that just loves him, you know? As much as I don't want to, and I'm fighting it, I just want him to love me.

Ugh. I can't even stand the sound of myself!! It's stupid. I'm hopeful that his hold on me will dissipate, somehow, sometime, and I'll be able to move on. Til then, I just focus on the good stuff.

know when to fold 'em

Following up to the events of my last blog post, I am still in contact with Lloyd, known colloquially as The Most Unsuitable Boy In The World. His calls and texts have been steady, and he asked me to go out with him to dinner, the movies, just to hang out. I weakened, and weakened, and weakened... eventually consenting to seeing him after he admitted he had made a major mistake and wanted/needed me in his life.

I am definitely The Biggest Hypocrite In The World, having always scoffed at women who had those on/off relationships and who took back men who had treated them poorly.

I'm not admitting (either to him or to you, dear readers) to us being back together, but we have seen each other a couple of times and it's been wonderful. Easy. Honest. Better than before. He's been opening up to me, admitting he's scared and self-sabotaging because he really likes me. None of this excuses or explains his previous attitude, and it certainly doesn't mean that another freak out / break up won't happen. I have made a couple of casual dates with new guys, which I think prompted Lloyd to realise what he was missing out on. So obvious. But yes, I am a sucker for it. I just missed him intensely while we were apart, and being with him feels better than being without him. What's a crazy nutjob girl to do??

I saw Doc A yesterday and he was surprisingly supportive about the situation. I thought he would roll his eyes and poke fun at me for being so human LOL. But after I had filled him in on all the goings on, he said that maybe it was worth another shot and that everyone deserves a second chance. I guess when it (IF it) gets to third, fourth, twenty-ninth chances he might change his mind!!

I am still in a state of confusion, and planning to date other people for the next couple of weeks while I sort my head out. Lloyd is not thrilled, but understands - I think.

All of your comments on the previous were completely true, and accurate, and echoed things I've told myself over and over again. I don't know how it's possible to forgive him, and still care about him, but it JUST IS...

you gotta know when to hold 'em

Lloyd broke up with me on Wednesday night. By text message - classy. And every day since then he has contacted me trying to get me to see him "as friends". I think he probably means the friends with benefits kind of friend LOL. I was devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie, there was sobbing and vomiting involved and many, many curse words. But now I am just confused. He says we get along beautifully, and have so much in common, but there are other contributing factors which mean we shouldn't "go out" as such. He had an argument online with Michelle, my housemate; he says he has not lost as much weight this month as previous months, which may or may not be because he's sabotaging himself because of me (!!!); the "physical side" of our relationship is not working for him (yet he has tried to booty call me twice since breaking up with me)... yada yada yada.

Ultimately, I have come to the conclusion that he just isn't ready for any kind of commitment. In many ways, he is like a 15 year old boy - messy, disorganised, sex-focused, immature - and I think as we grew closer and bonded more it scared the crap out of him. What a fricken cliche!!! I have been so laidback and easygoing, not demanding anything from him in the way of labels or commitments, so I can only imagine the freakout is entirely in his own head. What has really upset me is that he won't leave me alone since telling me it wasn't working. I wish he would just leave me to heal and move on. I am trying to get my head around the idea of going back on the internet dating roundabout and finding someone else, even though it's soon. I think that getting back on the horse, so to speak, might be the only way I stay sane...

love and other bruises

One of the issues I'm fighting on a daily basis, having started to expose my body to another human being again, is my self-loathing, which can verge on the pathological. As lots of my readers know, I had weight loss surgery 2 and a half years ago and since then have lost 100 pounds. I still have at least 50 pounds to lose before I'm even close to "ideal weight" for my height, and sadly most of those extra pounds have formed a tight knit association with my thighs. I lost more from my upper half, especially chest region more's the pity, so now I have a disturbingly pear-shaped body. But, as I know, as I tell myself over and over and over again, it's better to be lighter and healthier and I wouldn't want to be 370 pounds again. At least it's gone, even though it took my impressive chest with it.

One of the things I find interesting and appealing about the new bloke, Lloyd, is that he had weight loss surgery last April. He's lost even more weight than I have, and is doing amazingly well and is terribly "gung ho" about weight loss. He inspires me to want to lose more, and is encouraging, but part of me wonders when it will be okay for me to just BE. To finally learn to love myself and my body, without planning umpteen ways in which to change and improve it. Where does the balance lie between wanting to be fitter and healthier and thinner and wanting to unconditionally love myself? Where does that balance lay for Lloyd?? I understand that I'm not happy with myself, or my body, so it makes sense that he would be encouraging me to lose weight if it's something I want. But what if I can't, won't, don't lose more weight? What if it's more important to put my energy into accepting myself for the flawed and fat person I genuinely am? When does it become okay to just relax and let the flab fall where it may?

I've struggled with this question so much, for so many years, but the issue is more acute now I share my physical being with another person. I suppose I open myself up to opinion, comment and yes, criticism, by bearing my body and soul to him. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't judge me or criticise my weight, and if anyone knows what it's like to be obese it's Lloyd. Which kind of makes it harder, you know... if he understands how much a person can loathe themselves, why can't he just worship me for who I am right now? To answer my own question, he does worship me, but he is unfailingly honest and upfront about everything - weight included. Would I prefer that he lie to me about my weight the way Mr Ex did, even as I slowly killed myself with food? No. No, no no.

The last week has been especially hard, hormonally challenged as I am, and I cried in front of him for the first time. He was brilliant, empathetic without being patronising, but not even being cared for in that way could ease the intense loathing I felt at the moment for my scarred and ugly body. I wish there was a pill I could take for self-hatred, a potion that could render me carefree and confident. I worry sometimes that even if/when I lose the next 50 pounds I will still feel like the fat failure. That's the problem with mirrors in the mind, I suppose.

shiny, shiny, bad times behind me...?

In the middle of Week 3 of my new "relationship" and it seems like all is well. As well as can be expected when you factor in my general insecurities and mentalness and the fact that he is by-and-large used to his own company. I still enjoy every minute we're together, and try not to ruin every minute we're apart with my incessant ponderings/stress attacks. Being vulnerable again after a time spent solo is such a big deal, as described here in this terrific post by Ruby Tuesday. I don't think I am particularly adept at it, the raunching and relaxing with someone...it's been quite some time since I was last intimate with anyone, and 12 years since I was last with someone new. Having to negotiate the likes/dislikes and (ahem) nooks and crannies is definitely a learning curve, but I am giving it the old college try! The payoff is worth it, naturally, and I imagine that the closeness and comfort we find in each other means that the relationship is also worth it. I am trying hard to avoid Future Speculation. It's early days, and there are some fairly substantial issues we have to negotiate before any talk of Happy Ever After. But Happy Right Now - that I can do.

Doc A was surprised and happy to find that since we'd last met I had started seeing someone seriously. I saw him on Monday and he was full of constructive advice, naturally, especially about making sure that I maintain the other parts of my life that are non-Lloyd-related. He said something like "only one sixth of you is the part in the relationship, the other 5/6 are doing their own thing". Which is fine in practise but truly difficult to achieve in real terms. I have to fight the impulse that says we need to be with each other all the time, and share every damn thing. I have to curb the tendency I have to share every minute detail with him and with everyone else ABOUT him. I have to maintain perspective and rationality and composure and good sense and try to be in my Wise Mind. But part of me wants to lose myself completely and love unreservedly and dive head first. I think this is an ongoing struggle, and one I need to keep an eye on. It feels like I have to be suspicious of feeling too good, but also suspicious of the Negative Nancy voice that tries to sabotage and second guess. Yikes. It was certainly easier in many ways to live a solo, single, simple life.

I wouldn't trade him for anything, though. It's wonderful to talk and laugh with someone special, and to be cuddled by a 6ft 7 in giant of a man makes me feel like a delicate flower lol. Even if it lasts but a minute, I am happy.

you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess*

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and although I spent it in an untraditional setting, I did get to spend it with my favourite man. It's almost impossible to believe it's been just over a week since we met. Things are moving fast, but with purpose, you know? Like there's something strong at the core, and the surface is just there for it's own sake. Whether we go here or there, say this or that, the connection transcends everything. Last night he said to me it's like we've skipped the casual dating and are already close/committed. I try to hold back and put on the brakes, because that's what I'm "supposed" to do (build trust, get to understand him, delay sex, yada yada) but what feels right is to just give myself over to the experience and enjoy every minute we have together.

Whether this backfires and ends up hurting like hell, well, that remains to be seen. The way my heart works, it wouldn't matter how many hours we'd spent together or what intimacy we had or hadn't shared. If I like him, and it goes sour, it hurts. SO I may as well go with it, and risk my heart. It won't kill me! I feel surprisingly strong, too, as though a bad result won't derail me and undo all the good I've done in therapy over the last year. I haven't breached the mentalness subject except for mentioning I've suffered depression (so has he), but other than that I've been extremely honest about what I want and how I feel. It's well-received by him, and reciprocated... and I think the honest rapport we have is one of the reasons I'm confident.

It's so hard to know whether to be a romantic and just believe, or to be a cynic and just mistrust. I think a mixture of the two is probably the best outcome. I'm a bit of a true believer when it comes to love, though, and it feels SO AMAZING to be at the start of something that may be worth believing in. Valentine's Day rocked this year, and it's hard to picture being happier than I was eating chocolate and watching the sunset with my baby...

(*Taylor Swift - "Love Story")