#68 Pain Unites

#67 I'm the One!

I'm the one who has to go back out into the world and pretend that nothing happened.

If it is the embarrassment of being seen at my desk crying like a baby;
or trying to hide the bandages on my arms;
or enduring the humiliation of the burn clinic week after week;
or avoiding mention of three months spent in a psychiatric hospital;

I'm the one!
I'm the one who has to clean up the mess.
I'm the one who has to explain it away.
I'm the one who tries to hide the truth.

I know that I am the adult here, but I resent it.

I'm the one who has to go back out into the world and pretend that nothing happened.

#66 The Three F's.

I've always heard
that fight or flight
are the choices we have
when fear overwhelms us.

Now I've learned
there has always been
a third choice on the books
if you think you are about to die.

I call it squatting down in the road
I experience it as numbing out
I feel it as floating away
It's known as dissociation.

It turns out
It's not unusual.
Not everyone has the strength to fight.
Not everyone has the means to flee.

Little kids
in particular
will find that their bodies
make the decision for them.

With or without
our permission or knowledge
Fighting or Fleeing
loses out to Freezing.

#65 Words to (not) live by.

#64 What Do They Do With Snitches?

I have used up all my energy, fighting this decades-long battle between she who remembers and she who refuses to remember.
Now that I have declared a truce, what happens now?

I have seen what she has written, many, many times, over the years. In the light of day, I tore it up, or put it away, and I forgot it.
Over and over again, I forgot it!

Today, I am keeping a piece of her writing on my desk, so that I know she is real. She is not a figment of my imagination!

But I am very, very scared? The tape-recorded message, "don't think about it, don't feel anything about it, don't tell anyone about it" has finally been erased. And I am scared.

What do they do with snitches???

#63 Flashback!

I used to be convinced that my bpd flare-ups came on as a result of stress. Not so this year.
For months, my anxiety level has been climbing, but my life is more-or-less crisis-free.
So why the anxiousness? And the meltdowns? And the firestorms?
And now, a major flashback!!!

I think I remember a few months ago, feeling good enough about myself to tell myself that I wasn't afraid anymore; that I have nothing to lose if I face up to my demons; that it is OK to remember.
I don't even know what I meant by that.

But, it apparently opened a door somewhere.
Now my body has remembered something truly horrific.

It is early days so I don't know what this is going to do to me.
But I'm still alive.
Uninjured.
Weirdly calm actually.

#62 Who's There?

#61 Monkey Mind

If I have not seen a person for a while, I panic. Even if I am aware of the reason for their absence from my life and the likelihood that it is temporary, I still panic.

Part of me is well aware that the panic comes from the six year old stuck in survival mode, but my monkey mind (the chatterbox) tells me that I have done something to make them go away from me! "You have screwed up; you did something stupid; you said something offensive; you revealed too much of yourself!"

And now they have abandoned me! And it is my own fault!

At this point in my life, I can hear that the voice is that of the scared six year old, but I still cannot stop my monkey mind from running away with the overwhelming feelings. It offers all sorts of explanations, rationalizations, justifications. "Yes, it was only a matter of time before this happened; of course they have gone away; it makes perfect sense that they would leave you some day; today is that day!"

Then, one day, the person reappears in my life as if nothing had happened, making me wish that I had been able to resist listening to the crazy, frightened, paranoid, little person in my head!

#60 My Rant for the Day

In the newspaper recently there was an article about the trauma of identity theft. Apparently, the victims have a difficult time trusting others when they have been ripped off in this way.

I am here to say that there is another kind of identity theft. The victims are very small children and the perpetrators are their own parents or caregivers. Those who are abused or neglected by these people have their very unique selves stolen and distorted by the experience. They are truly robbed! Trust, forget about it! T hey may develop a personality disorder or other mental illness that will complicate their lives in ways that most people cannot imagine. Trusting others, normal relationships, holding down jobs, taking care of ourselves, are just some of the challenges we struggle with.

This kind of identity theft is not repaired by replacing paperwork and a new credit rating or by charging the wrong-doer. Where is the jail time for the so-called caregivers who demolish a child’s life before it is well begun? The real loss of identity takes place in the home and goes unnoticed by the outside world and goes on forever.

#59 Acting-In Borderline

A decision that I made when I was 12 years old, set the pattern for my life. I had just experienced another all nighter of screaming, by a family member, and I made a promise to myself. "I will never let it all out like that; I will never put it onto others like that; I will never hurt other people with my pain like that. I remember it as if it were yesterday.

A 12 year old is not mature enough to make lifetime decisions, but I have, for the most part, honoured that one. At that moment I became an "Acting-in" Borderline instead of an "Acting-out" Borderline Personality.

My life has been chaotic, but in a mostly private way. I held down a very responsible job in the health care field for more than thirty years. I kept a roof over my head and helped others financially when I could.

But I have always been embarrassed about my 'reactivity' and ashamed of my paranoia, my distorted thinking and my out-sized feelings. That's why I put so much energy into maintaining as much secretiveness as I can manage around my thoughts and feelings. I think I was so confused and terrified at seeing a member of my family "acting out" that I did not want people thinking I was crazy too.

My rage has always been directed at myself. It is only a few times, when my self inflicted injuries required medical treatment that I gave myself away. Of course, I was hospitalized, twice, for depression and I guess I gave myself away in the psychological testing. So the diagnosis was made.

Then I went back to my job and my life. And the secrets. The more stressed, angry, depressed or panicky I become, the more I isolate myself. I even feel like an outsider in "Borderline Circles". It has been a very lonely, closeted, and painful existence but would it have been much better if I had not made that decision at the age of 12?

#58 The Loud Voices Win!

Unfortunately,
what happens in my life is that
I don't manage big feelings
but instead I (try to) manage
the loud voices in my head.

The loud voices are always telling me
that I am doing and saying stupid things
and so I feel ashamed.

The loud voices are always telling me
that people don't like me
and so I feel sad.

The loud voices are always telling me
that this shouldn’t be happening
and so I feel angry.

The loud voices are always telling me
that there is a crisis developing
and so I feel scared.

The loud voices are always telling me
that I am forever going to be crazy
and so I feel hopeless.

So, in my efforts to suppress
this chorus of voices in my head,
I never give my feelings the chance
to breathe,
to live,
to be a witness in the world.