From The Margin

I had one of those Free To Be Me days, where I was fully aware I inhabited the margins of society and was happy to be there. It's a long weekend here, for Anzac Day (war service commemoration), and so I went to the grocery store to do the family shop (as the stores will be closed tomorrow, the usual grocery day). Before that I visited the library and spent about an hour poking around the "Tell Me Why", "Tell Me When", "Tell Me WTF" sections - AKA biography, health, psych. Grabbed a coffee, generally wandered.

It's times like this that make me the most scared of unemployment. Times when it's comfortable, when it's enjoyable, when the sun shines and all the "normal" folk are working. I think "Why would I WANT to find a job?" I think I read somewhere that Borderline patients have a tendency to find comfort in institutionalised worlds, like the armed forces or a cult. I was briefly in a cult, way back in the early 90s, but my indoctrination was more romantic than religious, as typically I joined to impress a hyperattachment/crush object, Steve. I was also an inmate of a particularly lax and loose boarding school during my teen years, until I was asked to leave. In both these instances, I found the rituals and routines to be hynotically soothing, and the discipline provided a heady counterpoint to my haphazard parenting.

My point, and yes, I do have one, is that I can already see myself falling into a state of comfy marginalization. I'm finding joy in the simplicity that comes from this type of lifestyle. I know I could restructure my life so that I can financially survive (tho' perhaps not thrive) on disability. I have a lot of positive things to occupy my time, which helps me to "justify" the not working. I think the only thing that fights the desire to become permanently disabled, or semi-so, is the knowledge that I'm really NOT. I am well enough -- to live in the world, rather than on the edges, and to work (at least part-time). I have to try and resist the "black and white" BPD thinking, to see my world as having two options, and two options only -- a) Psychiatric patient, permanently disabled and unemployed OR b) Worker Bee "A" type person, ambitious and driven to succeed. I have to work on finding middle ground, and that's why I have to resist settling into a rut.

Comfortable in my own skin, with my self and my existence - yes. But complacent - no.

Sleeping Sickness

The last few days have passed in a blur. A lot of napping, which always makes me worried that I am slipping back into the damn hole that Black Dog keeps digging. I also tend to sleep as a way to avoid my two family members who are home during the day -- I get even more morose when I have to sit and listen to my grandmother complain about things she has seen on television, or about the fact that she has developed light freckling on her arms (she is 90 years old). My shrink reckons Nanna sounds like a classic Narcissist, or Person of The Lie as M Scott Peck described. It has taken me 38 years to realise that just because a person is elderly, white haired and knits does not make them a jolly, benign cartoon-style grandmother. My mother is the nut she is because she was raised by my even nuttier Nanna in an atmosphere that was at best ignorant, at worst truly evil. And I cut Mom some slack because of that... My mom knows no better, she mostly did her half-hearted best to raise me and the fact that I was party raised by my grandmother (while my mom worked), well... I don't think Mom had realised then just how damaging my grandmother is/was. I feel so guilty even criticising my grandmother here in my journal. But sometimes I am so angry with her and so bitter that I have to fight not to put a pillow over her head (or throw myself off the nearest building). She is perpetually complaining, criticising, ungrateful of the fact that we do EVERYTHING for her from make her tea to do her laundry, even though she is not physically disabled in the slightest. She is just lazy and used to having everything done for her. I know, I know, she's 90 years old and probably deserves some respect, but wow it is HARD to give her any. I think that respect needs to be earned, and I don't know if I can forgive her for putting my Mom (and then me) in harm's way. Jeez. Living with her is THE WORST place for me to be. I know. It's definitely contributed to the most recent mental issues I'm having. I've made a deal with Dr A that I will work towards moving out into my own place within the next 6 months.

I suppose that gives me some incentive to return to work, as disability won't cover rent and bills if I'm living alone. I had to deal with our government social security/welfare agency this week, as my leave entitlements from work are finally used up. It's a long time since I had to deal with welfare, and the recent economic downturn has meant an increase in the number of people applying for benefits and therefore the amount of time it takes to be dealt with. I got to the agency at 7:30am, knowing that the line would build up before opening time of 8am. By the time the doors opened there were 40-50 people already waiting in line. I finally left the agency just after 9am. The amount of money I will qualify for is about a quarter of what I would usually earn, so it won't cover my living expenses (hence, I am stuck living with my family for the next while). Sometimes I wonder if I would have been better off staying married... a different set of issues there I suppose. There is so much I need to learn about myself and how to deal with life, it's exhausting to the point of being incapacitating.