Crash & Burn

I’m at breaking point. I haven’t been in this place in a very long time, and I almost didn’t notice the signs. They’ve have been there for months, slowly building up. My previous post “It’s So Dark” is a good indication of where I’m at, but it’s all come to a head now.

I’m crashing, and if I don’t take time away from everything and everyone, and take care of myself, I’m going to burn out completely.

So I’ve decided turn my phone off tomorrow and stay away from my computer. I’ve spoken to Jasmine about this already, and I’m grateful that she understands that I need to do this for myself. I’m no good for anyone in this state I’m in.

I’ve prepared a list of self-care activities for tomorrow, and none of it requires much energy. Which is a good thing, because I don’t have any energy to spare. I’m exhausted, so on my list is a long nap.

I want to encourage all of you to take a day for yourself every now and then. It’s the best thing we can do for ourselves.

It’s So Dark

For the past week, I’ve been depressed most of the time. I can’t seem to shake it. I don’t even know where I am sometimes. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion. Feeling disconnected from everyone. I just want to be alone. It’s like someone else is living in my head, my body. Empty one minute, then in tears the next.

I’m thinking that maybe I should switch my medication, or increase the dosage. Because I can’t carry on this way.

I’m going to go watch a movie with Jasmine tonight. One that I’ve been so excited to see, and have been waiting months for. But now I feel nothing. I don’t even want to go tonight. But I’ll have to force myself.

I feel hopeless. I can’t see a future.

Merry (Is It?) Christmas

You know what really pisses me off about this time of year? The fucking Christmas music. The same old crap every year. Could someone please come up with new songs? Or better yet… Do away with it completely. If I have to hear “Jingle Bells” one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.

Earlier this week, I had to go do some grocery shopping (shopping anxiety level, 10/10) . When paying, I asked the teller whether they have baseball bats. They didn’t. Probably better that way. I had the genius plan to go smash the speakers. Plan ruined. Damn. The teller thought my plan was hilarious though and gave me a high five. Anxiety level, 5/10. You’re awesome teller lady!

Fast forward to today. I don’t even know what today actually is. I’m in my own little bubble. The dad and stepmom went away for the day (I’m hoping they’ll stay overnight wherever they are). Uncle is on his own mission. I went for lunch with Jasmine and her family.

Now I’m alone (with my non Christmas music). Did some reading and took a nap (thank you Xanax) with my two comfort items. The stuffed bear that Jasmine gave me, and my therapy jacket. I miss my therapist way too much. Took some photo’s of useless things. It doesn’t help that I’ve been feeling sick the whole day. Lost an hour somewhere. Where the hell does that time go? I should invest in a camera when I get a job again. I’d love to see what happens during these times.

To everyone who celebrates it, Merry Christmas to you.
And to those that don’t, and find this a painful and difficult day, I’m sending you hugs.

I’m ending this now. Going to go crash someone’s Christmas party in a Halloween outfit.

Taking Responsibility For My Own Insecurites

There are times where I find myself feeling insecure about the smallest things. Only, these things aren’t so small to me in the moment. During these times, I see them as something that threatens my very happiness, sanity and survival.

For example, if someone doesn’t respond the right way to a text or email. Often though, there is no ‘right way’. I can find something wrong no matter what someone may say. I put them in a position where they can’t win. Being oversensitive is a common BPD trait. It’s not fun.

Another example is someone not responding to a text or email in the time frame that I think they should, in order to make me feel secure.

Both of these examples rang true for me yesterday with regards to my girlfriend. I’m going to call her Jasmine from now on. She went home yesterday to continue working on her thesis. She works on it when she’s here too, but there are more distractions… Me being one of them, of course.

A few hours later, my Rational Mind went offline. It was as if I had forgotten that Jasmine had work to do, and that was what she had to focus on. In those moments, I thought that it had to do with me. That maybe I had done something wrong, and she was angry with me. I was about to ask her whether she was mad at me, but then I realized something.

I can’t expect others to be responsible for my insecurities. They’re mine. They don’t belong to anyone else.

So instead of asking for reassurance this time, I decided to deal with it myself. I’ll never learn how to self-soothe and deal with my own emotions if I constantly expect others to make me feel better. Just because I didn’t get the care and reassurance I needed as a child and teen, I’m an adult now. And I’m perfectly capable of reassuring myself. It’s easier said than done of course, but that’s not going to stop me from working on it.

I started thinking about what I could do to deal with these insecurities, and came up with an idea. I took a piece of paper and made a few columns. And since I like making things as easy as possible (otherwise I just procrastinate), I made the same thing in MS Word and saved it as a template for future use. For the purpose of this post, I’ve put my exercise in as an example and made a screenshot.

table-insecurities

After doing this, I felt so much better, and could focus on my own activities. When those same insecurities would rise up, I would just look at my list. I’m the queen of catastrophizing. I don’t want to be this way anymore. And only I can change it.

Fighting For Air

This time of year, I feel the grief of everyone I have lost through the years. Too many people. Some gone too soon. Others leaving a broken heart in their shadows as they walk away.

Tonight is one of those moments of intense grief. Memories drifting through my mind. The pain and hurt proving that I’m still alive and breathing. Even though I don’t want to be.

I wish I could scream out loud. Swear at the universe. Instead, I scream on the inside. Because I don’t have that voice that allows me to express these emotions in as powerful a way as I feel them on the inside. So they remain there. Where only I can hear them.

These waves of grief wash over me. Pulling me under. Drowning me. But I fight for the surface. I fight for that elusive air.

Struggling With The Faceless

I thought I was fine.

So then why have I been struggling so much these past few days?

The worst part is that I don’t even know what I’m struggling with. It’s like there’s a dark hole somewhere in my mind, and I can’t grab hold of anything specific. Anything that makes sense.

My girlfriend woke me up last night with the words “what’s wrong?” or “what’s going on” (can’t quite remember which), and holding tightly onto me. I had apparently been thrashing around in my sleep and shaking. Did I have a nightmare? I can’t remember. I was just aware of my physical body in that moment of waking up. I had no emotional reaction at all, other than being disorientated.

I compare how I’ve been these past few days to last nights experience. Sensing something or more than one thing inside me, in my body, my mind… Yet unable to actually emotionally distinguish or feel what’s there. It’s as if I’ve fragmented or become disconnected from myself. I can’t even call it dissociation. Even ’emptiness’ doesn’t seem to explain it.

It feels like I’m suffering, but I have no idea why. It feels like I’m being tortured. But by what? I have absolutey no idea.

Have any of you experienced this, or know what might be going on? Also, I’d just like to know whether it’s possible to feel suicidal even when not feeling ‘obviously’ depressed or low?

#If Depression Were A Choice

My friend, Summer, started this series, and I thought I’d jump on the bandwagon. It’s for a good cause. #endthestigma.

If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t have stood on the jungle gym at my preschool, wanting to jump off, wishing the fall would kill me. Because what 5 year old has thoughts like that?

If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t have been watching my primary school classmates having fun, while I could barely smile, let alone laugh. Because what kid doesn’t want to enjoy her childhood?

If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t have had to witness my dads suicide attempts, trying to keep him conscious and breathing until the ambulance came. Because he could have just made the decision to not feel the pain and instantly be happy.

If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t have lost two people I loved to suicide. Because they wouldn’t have been in such intense pain that would make them think it’s the only way out.

If Depression were a choice… There’d be no such thing as suicide. Because how can something exist without a cause?

If Depression were a choice… I would leap out of bed every morning. Because I would be excited about the adventures the day would bring.

If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t have to smile and fake it. Because the happiness would be genuine.

If Depression were a choice… I’d never have to worry about what’s hiding behind someone’s smile. Because I’d know everything is okay.

If Depression were a choice… A bad day would just be a bad day. Because it would be easy to ‘snap’ out of it once the day was over.

If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t permanantly be exhausted. Because my mind and body would be full of vitality.

If Depression were a choice… I would have so much more time to do things I love and actually find joy and pleasure in doing them. Because I wouldn’t be wasting time in bed or on the cold floor, wishing to die instead.

But most importantly- If Depression were a choice… I wouldn’t just be surviving. I’d be living and thriving.