Thursday, January 30, 2014

The pluses and minuses of finding others that share your diagnosis

When BPD was suggested to me, the first thing I felt was alone. I didn't know anyone else with the same diagnosis. I knew other people with anxiety and depression (ie pretty much all of my friends), but not BPD. Upon researching some statistics, about 2% of the Australian population are diagnosed with BPD, which equates to about 440,000 people. Considering that the population of Australia is about 23 million, that's not actually a huge number.

The second thing I felt was scared. From what little I knew of BPD, it was a diagnosis that tended to mean a huge amount of discrimination, both within and without mental health services. I had a stigma attached to BPD already; I was actually a crazy person now.

When I accessed a service created as a midway point between hospital and home, I met someone else who had the same diagnosis, and I was relieved. Finally, I wasn't alone. Finally someone who could understand what I was going through. I could say things to her that would normally scare other people. I felt a strong attachment grow.

Over time I started to realise that it wasn't entirely a good thing. To start with, my attachment was so strong that I was constantly worried. I felt everything they felt. I went up and down with them. I was very emotionally invested in this person. I wanted them to look after me and understand me and accept me and not leave. I had begun to imitate them, base my identity around them.

But of course, they left.

BPD has a very high rate of ED presentations, due to the severity amongst a majority of sufferers of suicidal ideation and self harm. The friend I made went back to hospital, and I was on my own.

I was furious. How could they do this to me? How could they leave me? How would I ever cope now without them? I was also incredibly upset, knowing that they themselves had decided they needed to return to hospital. I was worried. I was anxious thinking about how she would be treated in hospital. I missed them so much it hurt.

I look back on that moment now and realise how dangerous it was for me getting so attached. I was so overwhelmed that my only thought was making the pain physical so I could fix it.

I self harmed because she left.

Since that time, I have spoken to other people who have/have had a BPD diagnosis, and have been very wary of getting too close to them. I'm aware that my need to find someone who will be able to accept me completely and entirely because they themselves have experienced the same thing is actually dangerous. While that acceptance and understanding is good, the severe emotional attachment and investment that I place on that relationship becomes all encompassing and it can make or break me far too easily.

It's nice to find someone who understands, but I have to tread with caution.

Rubyetc is a wonderful artist who has had a diagnosis of BPD and illustrates her mind workings for the rest of us. Sometimes funny, sometimes sad, she is brilliant, and I'm glad I found her art.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Why a diagnosis can work against you

Mental illness has always been a stigmatised part of humanity. Ignorance, misunderstanding, bad representation in media... there are plenty of things making things worse for those of us battling a demon in our own minds.

But there are certain disorders that make life even more difficult than others. BPD is one of them.

The stereotype sees those with BPD as manipulative, attention seeking, unstable, unpredictable, overly emotional and impulsive. They always throw tantrums, have crazy mood swings, love you one second and hate you the next. You have to walk on eggshells around them just in case you upset them and they fly off the handle. They can't have stable relationships. They are self destructive, but of course only so someone will pay attention to them.

It's a whole pile of bullcrap.

While some people with BPD exist within the stereotype, the scope of the way in which BPD can be exhibited is quite large when you realise you only need to meet 5 out of 9 criteria. Any illness will not look the same person to person. Similarities occur, but stereotypes can be harmful, and they certainly are for BPD.

In the DSM V, Personality disorders fall under Axis 2. This is meant to differentiate them from other disorders, like mood and psychotic disorders. But what it does, unfortunately, is put you in a box where the immediate response to asking for help is to fend you off and not to give you attention, because you are likely being manipulative, impulsive and attention seeking.

I've been asking for help lately. I've been fighting tooth and nail to get it and I'm being fended off. The last time I asked for the same help, people were happy to make things work so I could get the help. Now that I'm Axis 2, I'm being pushed away.

If you're sick, and you ask for help, you should be given it. That should be how it works. When people don't believe you, you start to doubt your own sanity and ability to recognise when you're unwell. I'm already someone who constantly second guesses their own feelings and thoughts, but now... now it's like I'm standing with a bleeding arm and being told that I'm not really hurt and just looking for attention or being manipulative.

SO THE FUCK WHAT?!?! This behaviour happens for a reason! A need is not being met, disordered behaviour patterns have been created over time, and then people wonder why someone thinks that the best way for people to notice them is to lash out or self destruct or whatever else. That's the thing about a disorder. It's fucking disordered.

I'm so angry and hurt and paranoid and tired and scared and I don't even trust my own mind anymore.

:(

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Triggers

Quite often with mental illness, but especially so with BPD, we talk about "triggers". These are things, whether sights, sounds, smells, experiences etc., that will cause a severe emotional reaction that may lead to a relapse in illness, or an episode of self harm/self destructive behaviour.

Triggers can be very easy to identify, or extremely difficult. Sometimes it's very difficult to know what can trigger you if it has never happened before, and sometimes things that have triggered you before won't do so again. It's a fun game as you can see.

I've always had trouble defining my triggers. I know of a few definite ones, like seeing pictures of self harm, that I work actively to avoid. But pinning down my triggers is definitely an ongoing and ever changing part of my illness.

One very powerful trigger for me is moving house. Since moving out of home 7 years ago I have moved house 6 times. The reasons I've had to move house have often been because an individual has caused me significant distress and I have to move to get away from that person. Even without the stressful circumstances, moving house is stressful for even the healthiest of people. It's right up there with a relationship breakup or losing a loved one. But for someone suffering from a mental illness, it becomes a very dangerous time in which that person can slip back into crisis.

Having a place to call home is extremely important to me, as I imagine it is for most people. I need to have a safe place where I am accepted and welcome. I need a space that is mine.

Having a roof over your head is not the same as having a home. While shelter is obviously an essential, having a home just makes the rest of life easier. Somewhere that we can go back to that is safe and welcoming when everything else is falling to pieces. It is a foundation, a pillar that helps keep us upright.

Losing that pillar... well for me, it throws everything into chaos.

My head starts to move in several directions at once. Instead of having a few fairly clear paths, suddenly I'm faced with a cacophony of options and I just can't seem to focus on anything. I feel weightless as if drowning in my own terror. I start to have moments where I will simply stop functioning because my brain is so overloaded. In these moments people can try and interact with me and I will honestly not be able to respond. My emotions become heightened and erratic. I struggle not to let these emotions hurt others, or myself.

The issue of course is that I need to focus. Moving house means packing and organising and tidying and coordinating... so I muster up all my strength and push all the hurt and rage and fear aside and power myself through. It's fairly common for everyone to do this when they need to get through something tough.

Once it's over... I fall apart.

This is the danger point.

I recognise it now and do my best not to allow it to swallow me, but it's very hard without any energy left to lift myself up.

I get overwhelmed with the need to self destruct. Left with just myself to deal with, all the rage and hurt and fear gets focused inwards and all I want to do is cause myself pain.

It doesn't seem to make much sense, but as someone who absolutely cannot let anyone they care about get hurt, those emotions have to go somewhere, and it's easy when you already hate yourself to just let it turn inwards and hurt you.

I'm not going to pretend that I'm okay. I'm not. I just hope that I can get through this with the minimal amount of damage.