BPD and Thought Distortion

Thought distortions are things that people with mental illness do…. ALOT.  Heck, healthy people do it, too, sometimes.

Article on Thought Distortion

A link for some examples!

This morning I had a really bad episode.  It hiked my anxiety up so far I almost threw up trying to go get some labs at the hospital done.

My hubby, who ALWAYS calls on both of his breaks, didn’t call on his first break.  I freaked out.  I went into panic mode.  “What if he was in a car accident?”  “What if he decided he is sick of me and just left forever?”    My thoughts circled around all of the terrible things that might have happened. I called him 46 times.  Yup…46 times.  Ridiculous, right?  At the time, my mind rationalized that if he got in an accident, somebody would pick up eventually.   I worked myself up to being physically sick.  I skipped my hospital labs and went home before I could grocery shop, which I had planned to do after the hospital labs.

His second break time comes around  and he calls.  I could physically feel my chest loosen and I could breathe again.  He ended up having to work through his first break.

The lesson:  thought distortions are real and can really affect behavior.  I did my best to thought challenge and distract myself, but this time it didn’t work.

That doesn’t mean I am a failure, I just had a bad morning.  After getting my stability back, I did go grocery shopping.  I missed a bunch of other housework, though.  No biggie, I’ll work on it tomorrow.

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Sorry For the Long-winded Boat Analogy

I’m 28, you’d think I would have a better grasp on this.

Well, SURPRISE!  I have no fucking clue.  Everything I have done up to now has been a band-aid over a bullet hole.  It is like I have been taking Dayquil to cure cancer.  Okay, enough analogies.  Also, sorry Taylor Swift, totally just used a line of yours.

It is do or die time.  I thought I hit rock bottom, but then I had to prove myself wrong and screw up even worse.  Feeling comfortable in my life?  I need to change that, obviously. I don’t deserve to be comfortable.   The problem?  There are so many holes to fill in my life boat and I only have two hands and no real-life boat experience.   I can do this one thing over here, and take care of this one smaller thing over there, but it won’t matter if I don’t take care of the whole boat.  Oops, totally was mistaken about the analogy thing.  I’m just not quite sure how else to describe my life.  And the ridiculous part?  This boat was sea worthy until I took a jack-hammer to the bottom of it.  All of these holes in my boat are my doing.  I thought I was fixing the boat because I was putting these holes in to give the rain water somewhere to go. It worked until I realized I made an even bigger problem.  (Hint: this is the alcohol analogy)

So, where does this leave me?  I am in a sinking boat, with no experience with boats outside of watching “Overboard” with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.

First of all, the other people that were on this sinking boat are in a safer boat, and I can’t even consider going to them or getting into their boat until I deal with this jack-hammer impulse. Good for them.  I don’t want to take them down, too.  Also, the Calvary was called in and they are safe.

Okay, I think I am done with the boat analogy.  At least for now.  I am taking the bus to work this week, and am trying to figure out what kind of treatment I want/need from Roger’s.  Then, I can start working through marriage/family counseling and making sure that I also don’t have another melt down and seriously drown myself.  One more bad episode and it could be the end of said story.

Okay, more boat analogy:  Thank you to the people who continuously help me stay afloat, even though it must be so hard to watch me put holes in my boat.  It can’t seem rational or make any sense.  Thank you for continuing to do so.  The people safe in the other boat owe that to you.  I know a lot of it is just making sure I don’t take any civilian casualties with me, but who am I to judge intention?

Enough of this nonsense.  I cannot do anything today besides prepare for tomorrow and not put any more holes in my boat.  It seems silly and hopeless, but I can figure out a way to float.

That Time I Almost Met My Hero and Threw Up Instead

I was so excited.  I was going to get to hear my favorite author/blogger read her book, do some Q&A’s, and then get her to sign my copy of her book!  I couldn’t decide what to wear, I couldn’t decide if I was going to try to ask a question or not….

Well, drove up to Milwaukee with my aunt, we got there about a half hour before the reading was supposed to start, but we still ended up standing. No biggie.  I was so excited.  Well, it started filling up and I was surrounded by people.  It got warm.  I could feel the familiar feelings of an anxiety attack starting.  I did deep breaths, fidgeted with my Zelf (tiny troll-like doll) that I keep in my purse for that exact reason….  None of it worked.  I ended up running into the Starbuck’s bathroom and throwing up, calling my husband panicking, and splashing water on my face.  It felt like I was going to die.  I made it through the rest of the Q&A session, didn’t ask a question, and then decided to skip the lines for the autograph and go home.  Granted, there was an offer to “skip the line if absolutely necessary” for everyone, but my anxiety wouldn’t even let me do that.

It was super awesome even being in the same room as my hero, though, and I am glad that I went.  I have spent the rest of the week recovering.  I hadn’t had that terrible of an anxiety attack in a long time.  It sucked.  Lots of naps, baths, snuggles, and giving myself a break.  Still not feeling as good as I did last week, which sucks because it is Halloween weekend, and there are things that I desperately want to do and enjoy.   Honestly, dressing up like a unicorn for Trick Or Treating even sounds exhausting.  Hell, doing the dishes sounds overwhelming.

Oh, well, just keep swimming, just keep swimming…

Catching Up and Remembering

It has been one hell of a 7 days.

Let’s start with the good things.  I have an amazing family, specifically my close family including my friends and adopted family.  And even more specifically, my daughter.  She went through a weekend full of a funeral, zoos, fireworks, and new people like a little queen.  She charmed new people and made me proud to be her mother.  I actually almost had to apologize for her giving too many hugs. Of all things….  Also, my family who I clung to through a pretty interesting week and who lets me hug them too much.  Sensing a pattern here?  Whimzy’s hugging was because she was excited to meet new “cousins” and mine was because I needed some physical support.

And hey!  Guess what?!?  I hit 90 days sober within the last week.  It has been an amazing journey and while my 4th of July weekend may not have been full of drunken shenanigans, it definitely was full of fond memories, watching the people in my life grow, and a motorcycle ride that I actually remember!  Here is to more memories that won’t be blocked by booze 🙂

On the flip side of things, there is quite a bit of confusion in my emotional state right now. My childhood and adolescence had many events, people, and situations that I have not dealt with psychologically yet.  They sit, ignored and probably festering as I learn how to deal with day to day stresses.  Well, one was violently brought to the forefront of my mind over the past week and is making me deal with it.  There is hurt, sadness, happiness, hope, and a sense of loss that I am having trouble rectifying into one coherent train of thought.  I suppose, this is what I pay somebody to help me figure out.  I like to think of my therapist as a detangler of thoughts.  Maybe I should tell him that and he can add it to his resume.  I made it through this upheaval pretty well. I cried, dealt with it in a healthy manner, did some writing, and got through it.  Now I have to deal with the conflict in my mind.  And at this point, some intensive therapy would be great.  And there is this great program that would provide just that, unfortunately, my insurance is being ridiculous and I do not know if I am covered for it, so I can’t begin the treatment.  Lovely.

Here comes the crash.  I got through the trigger event without having a meltdown or drinking.  I got through the social events that followed.  Now that my guard is down a bit, I can feel the overwhelming emotions peeking though.

Here is the thing, though:  I can control this.  I do not have to let my emotions and my cognitive dissonance control me.  I can make the decision to think through my thoughts and emotions logically and piece together a way to deal with repercussions of life and move forward.  I can reach out for support and expect it to be there.  It might be difficult and it may be a bit of a process, but I will do it.  It is just an opportunity to heal old wounds and become stronger.

Anybody have any ideas on dealing with old emotional trauma resurfacing or on grief?  Share your stories, ideas, and advice.  You could help somebody else out there with your wisdom and strength!

Silliness and Compatibility

One of the many things that I absolutely love about my life is my living area and the freedom that comes from having a partner that agrees with me on décor and is a little silly.

Case and point:  When my hubby was younger, him and some friends were at a DQ and noticed a smoking chair sitting out back for the employees.  Driven by whatever drives young men to do strange things, they stole the chair.  The chair then went through being a piece of furniture in what was basically a frat house and experienced its fair share of abuse.  Eventually the chair broke in half.  Straight down the middle.  My hubby then used them to cover a hole in the wall from a night of drunken sliding on a pledge lubed floor.  By the time I moved in, this poor piece of broken furniture just sat there.  Then, I decided I could use it as a cool piece of decoration and it moved with us to our new apartment.  Lo and behold our split chair!

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It has since then turned into a cute little way to decorate a wall that doesn’t have a lot of space. I have placed pictures, flowers, and books on it to round out the décor.  I am considering painting them, but haven’t decided on the colors yet.

Do you have any junk that you turned into some awesome décor?  Share pics in the comments!

A Choice

I’m watching a show that centers mostly on forensic psychology.

It is a crime drama, and it is fascinating.

However, I disagree with something they said, and something that is unfortunately accepted as truth.

“It is not a matter of if ‘he/she’ (insert undesirable behavior), it is when.”

That is not true.

With enough education, people can seek help.

Like breast cancer and people screening for lumps, people should know that some thoughts can lead to bad behaviors and can be changed or treated.

I have threatened suicide and attempted suicide more than once.  More than twice.

I am not currently suicidal.  I have gotten help.  Some of my unwanted behaviors still exist.  I still wish I was a lil drunk right now writing this, but I am not. That thought is still there, but with knowledge (workbooks, therapy, research, etc…) I am fighting my own thoughts and becoming healthier.

Anybody can do this to varying degrees, just like any disorder or disease.

This needs to be understood and be passed around as truth.

I am not my diagnosis.  It does not define my next choice.  I define my next choice.  I choose not to drink, to not kill myself, to get up and write this blog.

You have that choice.

Apathy and a Mini-Me Wielding a Sword

I have this deep seeded apathy for life right now, veering more towards negative feelings.  I don’t want anything.  I don’t want to do anything.  In fact, all that sounds even remotely desirable is going to sleep.

There is a tiny version of me in the back of my mind, with painted toe nails, a cute outfit, wielding a sword trying to stab her way through the fog of this depressive episode.  The rest of my brain is eyeing her with something akin to jealousy because she obviously still has some sass left. The real me can’t even fight enough to put real clothes on.  She will win eventually, she always does, but until the fog lifts a bit, her sword won’t do her any good.  Until my brain chemicals shift, that fog is staying right where it is. 

It is days like this that I am afraid to put eye make up on because I will probably cry it off. Why bother putting on a cute outfit?  I am just going to feel terrible anyways.  This pressure on my chest? It makes it hard to breathe.  I’m afraid if I start feeling things right now, it will be just me curled up somewhere crying.  Why?  I don’t know.  Wait, yes I do.  My brain is sick, or at least not functioning properly. 

Like that one saying “Some days aren’t worth chewing through the restraints”, some days I just don’t have the energy to help the tiny part of me that is still fighting. 

Maybe I just need a good cry.

Maybe I just need some cheesy hashbrowns.  I don’t have the necessary ingredients, and even if I did,  I’m not sure I would have the drive to make them.

I know, I’m rambling, but I am trying to write myself out of this fog.  It isn’t working. 

My brain just wants to shut down, sleep until this is over. 

Apparently, Competency Means Different Things To Different People

I’ve been busting my butt lately to get me activated as my mom’s POA.
I love her, but she is not capable of making her own decisions anymore. She doesn’t know what year it is, who is president, what her wedding dress looked like, who I am (sometimes), or what she had for breakfast. She doesn’t remember that we were there twice this past week. She does nothing besides what she has to do (eat and whatnot) and watch Animal Planet. If I asked her what medications she was on, she would look at me with a confused look. If I asked her when the last time she was at the hospital, she would have no idea. If I asked her how many times she has gotten out of bed in the last week, she would have no clue. I could keep going on and on and on.
So, I requested a competency test from her psychiatrist, through her nurse at the nursing home. I mean, I am not asking him to sign something with no proof, I want him to come in and talk to her and evaluate her, like HE IS FUDGING SUPPOSED TO!!! Well, he apparently called the nurse back and I quote “doesn’t think that she is sick enough to start a competency hearing”. This was after I was told that her doctor would be in and I sat and waited for an hour to find out that she, in fact, was not going to be there.

This is what woke me up this morning. I had glorious plans of slowly waking up, stretching, enjoying the sunshine coming in, and getting up and being awesomely relaxed and getting some stuff done before getting my paycheck and curling up the rest of the evening with hubby.

It ruined my slow wake up and ruined my positive mood to start my day. Oh, and I am out of happy meds, so I have to go get those today. So I couldn’t even chemically induce my brain to be positive.

So, I sent my hubby to take a nap (he didn’t get home until 4ish and then the kid woke him up at 6), and started cleaning. To be fair, my apartment really does need a good cleaning, but I wanted to do it with a breezy attitude and some dancing, not with a scowl and mumbled swear words.

I am going to take a deep breath, clean my hallway, take a bath, get dressed, and go get my paycheck and pick up a couple of things, including my happy pills. Then, I think I am going to call and get this psychiatrist’s number and stare at it until I can decide if I am calmed down enough to talk to him yet or if I should wait until Monday. A daughter calling him and being incoherently rambling is not going to help anything. Then, after making that decision I am either going to clean to get out more anger or lose myself in a book or a mindless TV marathon compliments of Netflix. Maybe I’ll bake a cake or dream about my hermit-alpaca lifestyle. I really don’t know.

AHHHH!!!!!!! Normally writing helps, apparently this time I am too frustrated/angry. I don’t like being angry, it makes me cry. *sigh* Definitely time to go get more shit done.

At least my apartment smells like peaches, I get paid today, and the weather is gorgeous. See?! Optimism! Oh, and I will probably get an amazing iced latte at work when I pick up my check! See? Caffeine!