Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Who am I? - The struggle with identity

When people talk about identity I'm pretty sure they don't really know what they mean. Identity is something that is really important and also really difficult to define. According to developmental psychology, most people go through their "identity development" stage in their teens, sometimes into their twenties. Of course, there are people out there who are probably going "I'm way past 20 and still have no freaking clue who I am!" That's not too unusual, but it is fairly well established that your sense of self tends to settle down by at the latest around 25.

There is also recent evidence that the brain is still doing a great deal of development into the 20's and even 30's. There is a great video on TED (if you don't know about TED then go look it up, it is awesome) on this very topic. Just a snippet of some neat info there.

What I really want to get into is one of the diagnostic criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder:
Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self
When I had a look through the diagnostic criteria for myself, as was suggested by my psychologist (she trusts me not to self diagnose) I nodded my head when I saw this one, but when I thought about it later I realised that I didn't really know what I thought identity was, or what it meant to have a "sense of self".

I still don't. And I think most people would say that I have a very strong identity. Perhaps to them I do. But I would strongly disagree.

Firstly, I am a personality sponge. I adapt very quickly and thoroughly to my surroundings and change my behaviour accordingly. It may not be anything new to be a different person depending on who you're with, but it makes a big difference when your mind starts getting confused about which one is really you.

I change my hair colour quite often. I tell people it's because I get bored easily, but that's not really the case. I can't figure out what I'm supposed to look like. My face seems to change with every hair colour change and I never get comfortable with how it looks.

The way I see my body changes regularly. Sometimes I see myself as quite thin, other times I look enormous. Sometimes I can be quite pretty, other times I see an alien type creature. Parts of my body can appear distorted, especially the areas where I've self harmed.

I started wearing makeup and becoming quite adept in it when I was around 19, when previously I had little interest in makeup. For years I've been experimenting with different styles and colours and techniques, feeling like I was expressing myself somehow. Over time I realised that I was frightened of the way my own face looks, and felt much safer putting a mask on than to expose the alien beneath it.

I have strong morals, I know there are facets of my personality that have been pretty much the same, but over the years I have been gradually losing sight of who and what I really am.

Self harm has played a strong part in my dysphoria with my own body. Before I started self harming, which was only about 18 months ago, I was very comfortable in my own skin. I liked my body and what it could do. I wasn't totally happy, but I was still proud. When the self harm started I became very disoriented. I became shameful of my body. I felt disconnected. I could not remember what it felt like to be totally comfortable with myself and who I was and how I looked. I detached.

Speaking with others I know with BPD this is not an unusual position to be in. Accepting yourself and loving yourself is something so completely foreign, like it's in a language no-one has spoken for thousands of years. Your reflection is not an accurate representation. You can't recognise yourself in your own features.

I do not know a place that isn't inherently filled with shame and self hatred. When I feel too overwhelmed by these feelings, I detach, and become numb, or I become highly distressed, and both of these can lead to some very dangerous place.

It's very difficult to feel like "yourself" when you don't even know who that is.

Friday, October 25, 2013

A frank conversation: Self Harm

I want to have a frank conversation about self harm.

I get very frustrated that it's something that is very difficult to have a frank conversation about because it's such a delicate topic for others and so poorly understood. There's too much emotion attached to it and I just need to speak my mind without worrying that I'm going to upset someone. The only person who I can be totally frank with who totally understands is another friend with BPD and is very unwell and difficult to see. When I talk to my psychologist about it I tend to be the one doing the educating. I have to explain why I cut, and I am not the one who needs to know that. I already know. I just want to talk about it.

I want to say that I hate it. I can't look at my reflection without feeling sad. Sometimes I look at my limbs and they don't look like a part of me. What are these strange stripey things attached to my torso? They can't be mine. I look at photos of myself without scars and think "That is what I look like really, these limbs can't be mine."

I want to tell people that I feel horrendously ugly. That when I spend time making myself look nice I am fighting against this sense that I am inherently hideous. I'm putting on a wellness mask. I hide behind a fastidious exterior because on the inside I feel like a freak. I don't want people to say "No you're not, you're beautiful!" It's nice and all, but it's extremely unhelpful. I need someone to KNOW what it feels like to be covered in scars that were self inflicted, to feel like the person in the mirror isn't us, that that thing is gross and awful and alien.

I look at these scars and I think "who did this to you?" I feel so angry that someone hurt me. Then I remember that it was me. I did this. No-one else. And then I feel really confused. Why would I hurt myself? Why would I cause pain to my own body? How could I do that? I am not a mean or violent person. So then I have to separate myself from this person who hurts my body. I am not them.

I split myself into different people quite often. I am not able to genuinely be okay with being both someone who hurts themselves and someone who loves their body.

It has been extremely difficult adjusting to having scars. I was always very confident about my body, especially sexually. I liked how I looked naked, I liked all my freckles, my curves, my boobs and hips.

After I started self harming I became very anxious about people seeing my body, where as before that I was proud of it, almost over confident. It was in such contrast to what I was used too that it really threw my head out of whack (more so than it was already). I didn't understand what it felt like to hate my body, and suddenly I did. So I split myself off from this part of myself. I am not myself when I self harm, I am my disordered self, and I blame her. I love my body; she hates it. This only begins to help me cope with how I look.

I got a job recently. My first job in over 18 months. My first job since starting to self harm. And it's in retail.

It's already getting to a point with the weather that covering up is just not comfortable. But at work, I need to really look the part. My manager doesn't want to ask me to cover them up, but unfortunately it's not for her to decide. I'm the face of the company now. Self harm scars can really upset some people. They can make people really uncomfortable. I know it's really not fair, but I understand that it's necessary.

It still hurts. I don't WANT to cover up. I'm not proud, but it's not anything for other people to be scared of. It doesn't mean I'm any less able to do my job. I know it doesn't look nice. But I go to a great deal of effort to look clean and well dressed because I believe in presentation being important. It's not like I don't care about my appearance. My self harm has nothing to do with how much care I take of my appearance.

I'm just tired of feeling shame. I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of worrying about customers being put off because I have self harm scars. I'm tired of not being able to love every part of my body. I'm tired of feeling so incredibly fucking sad that I have done this to myself.

I have wonderful people in my life who still love me. I have been intimate with people who still think I'm attractive. But it's harder being the person inside this body than the one looking at it.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

How feminism helped me deal with anger

So many ideas for my first blog post! There are certainly many things on my mind lately, but I think what I really want to talk about today is anger. Here is Google's answer to the definition of anger:

Anger:
NounA strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.VerbFill (someone) with such a feeling; provoke anger in.Synonymsnoun.   wrath - ire - rage - dander - fury - irritationverb.   irritate - vex - exasperate - incense - provoke - rile
Humph. I don't know about you but that doesn't really describe anger for me. Anger is like white hot fire under your skin. Anger is furious shaking and racing heartbeat, rushing adrenaline pushing you to fight and scream and break everything. Anger is, frankly, scary.

But here's my question: did our society make it scary, or is it inherently scary?


Mostly we associate anger with verbal or physical violence. So it's no wonder it seems scary. But perhaps the problem isn't anger itself, but the lack of our society's ability to acknowledge and deal with anger as an acceptable and sometimes useful human emotion. From what I can tell, we are all taught to push anger away. Anger is bad. You can't feel anger. That's just wrong.

I am no stranger to anger. I freely admit that I have anger problems. Maybe not quite as obviously as others, but I definitely struggle with it. On top of anxiety, anger is very comfortable in my brain. It has a great deal of support from my brain chemicals. If you aren't aware, those with a mental illness, like myself, have very different brain goings on than a "healthy" person's brain. There are very obvious, chemical and physical differences. Anyway, I digress...

Now, for those familiar with the diagnostic criteria for BPD, outbursts of anger are a thing. Borderline's roller-coaster of amplified emotion can be quite explosive. Personally, I am not one to have outbursts of anger very often. I have learnt over my life, particularly in childhood, to avoid conflict, and also to run in the other direction if I myself felt angry. It has actually been feminism that has really made me connect with my anger and attempt to channel it into more productive avenues (ie. destroying the patriarchy).

It's fucking scary facing up to your own anger. To me it kinda looks like this giant flame with angry red eyes (something like Calcifer but much much worse) and I am just this tiny little human with piddly little arms and squishy bits and how could I possibly fight this thing?

The problem I believe is that we often do try and fight it instead of actually sitting with it and going "so, what the fuck is up with this then?" Obviously difficult to do in the heat of the moment, but getting into the habit of paying attention to your anger, where it is in your body, how it feels and when it happens means taking back control of it rather than fighting it or ignoring it and pushing away (which is a VERY bad idea).

How has feminism helped? I'm glad I asked.


One thing that I've always struggled with in terms of my perception of myself is strength. I tend to view myself as weak, due to firstly being quite a physically small person, female, and also because of my mental illness. It's difficult to feel strong watching people around you doing that whole life thing with apparent ease when you fight a battle every morning to convince yourself it's actually worth getting out of bed today and no, everything is not trying to kill you. When you often get harassed simply because you are a small girl in public.

Feminism came crashing into my brain and told me I was awesome. It told me that I did not have to put up with harassment. It told me that I was a bad ass bitch who was powerful and more than able to stand up for myself and that I had no reason to tolerate bullshit. NONE.

(I must also mention the numerous friends who tell me how strong I am on a regular basis. I love you guys.)

So I go it into my head that instead of running away I would stand up, because I am worth fighting for. 


I may be an angry killjoy some days, but I certainly don't tolerate anything that is not a constructive part of my life, and I do not run away when I'm angry. I channel it. I prove to myself and those around me that my gender, size or illness has anything to do with my ability to fight back.

The more you really look at human emotion, the more obvious it is that we have them for a reason. These reasons are generally related to survival (whether your own or that of current or future offspring).

Anger isn't inherently bad or evil. Anger is a useful emotion that simply needs to be accepted and channelled productively. Talk to it, pay attention to it, accept it as part of yourself and learn how to control it. (I am in the process of getting better at this, so I'm not perfect, but I strongly encourage it none the less!)

Note that I do not see abuse or violence of any kind as productive IN THE SLIGHTEST.