I just want to spread a little awareness and love amongst people out there who are suffering with eating disorders. So here's some firsthand stuff and junk about bulimia.
I have had bulimia for many many years. I haven't been able to get the treatment I need. Partly because I have been frightened of recovery and also because my attempts in the past have only ever left me feeling let down and possibly worse. Glancing at somebody and telling them 'you look fine to me' is not enough to heal the war between a person and their eating disorder and I figured I could do without that kind of *cough* 'help'.
My particular case began as a young teenager but I managed to start eating properly again for a few years - until I turned eighteen. It took me a good while to gain control once more after that and then I was lucky enough to have several years of peace from bulimia. It came back again when I was (roughly) 25 years old and I haven't managed to break the cycle ever since. Although, having said that, I have managed to find ways to cope and to avoid and also with my age and my personal life experiences I have started to heal, naturally.
But it isn't because I don't talk about it that I don't have episodes every day. In fact it is extremely rare that I actually make it through 24 hours without overeating and being sick.
A person with bulimia does not often talk about his or her suffering. In my case I keep quiet because I don't want to bother anybody with the details and I have been made aware, on several occasions by people closest to me, that my problems are my own to deal with and that 'voicing' them will not help. I have even been told that ignoring the bulimia is better for everybody. There's no point dwelling on it, it will only make the bulimia worse.
Obviosuly people with eating disorders don't want to hurt anybody else. Especially friends and family members. They just need a hug now and again. And somebody they can just be honest with... "I had a good day today/I had a shit day today". I know I'd rather not have to write all this down in a blog! I'd rather be able to turn to somebody who can look me in the eye when I tell them "I'm feeling great today/I'm feeling terrible today".
But if these words can comfort just one person suffering, well that's gold.
I have been to great lengths not to gain weight. Bulimia is not fun. I have blocked toilets and resorted to being sick in buckets. I have been sick in showers when toilets have not been an option. I have been sick in my back garden. I have starved myself (which is anorexia/bulimia combined), overexercised and abused laxatives. I use a toothbrush to throw up and I've even been to restaurants and used a pen in my handbag to help me throw up while the bill is being paid.
Bulimia makes me tired. It makes me sad. But I don't feel ashamed. I feel strength and the need to get better. I love food. I love eating fruits and vegetables. I love cooking soups and adding fresh herbs and spices. I love the way food, when eaten correctly, makes me feel healthy and grateful for life.
Nevertheless bulimia has probably caused an awful lot of damage inside my body that I'm not yet aware of and that's frightening. One of the scariest symptoms I get from time to time is when I go dizzy and I have to sit down and fill up with fruit juice and sugary foods. My eyesight goes all blurry and I can't think or hear properly. I have to wait a few minutes for it to pass. It's awful and a very lonely experience.
I hope one day I will be able to eat healthy foods and wave goodbye to this ED forever. And if raising just a tiny bit of awareness helps somebody else... then it helps me, too.
Take steps to take care of yourself if you have an eating disorder.
And take a look at this site if you're interested in understanding bulimia a little better...
http://www.timberlineknolls.com/eating-disorder/bulimia/signs-effects/
Don't give up.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Sunday, March 27, 2016
The Internet and the Octopus
This week I was told to 'get some perspective rather than drippy clichés' by a fellow Twitter user. Why? Because I tweeted using the hashtag #BPD(Borderline Personality Disorder)Chat about how I'd rather 'explore a shipwreck at the bottom of a colourful ocean than a cruise ship full of people all heading to the same destination'.
On receiving this response by somebody of whom I had never heard before, I felt annoyed. Not because this person had challenged my silly idea, I'm cool with that shit, but because it seemed like such a waste of time on his part, especially considering all the other stuff that's happening in the world and on the Internet.
I asked myself why somebody would seek out a completely random tweet which was intended to brighten up a handful of people's lives for ten seconds (at the most) and that was favourited by a maximum of seven and maybe retweeted twice, just to tell me it was inaccurate and drippy?
Now, I'm not in the habit of name calling or finger pointing. I enjoy Twitter and the people I interact with. We're all human and entitled to our say, we all make mistakes, we can all live our lives the way we want to and agree/disagree with whatever the hell we like. But nevertheless I checked his timeline and decided to pinpoint the state of his spelling just as casually as he targeted my mental health related tweet, and a couple of other boring things I'd mentioned in the days running up.
That's pretty much the end of the story. Other than to say that I don't think this guy was an accident. I think he showed up to remind me how to easily accept and allow the thoughts, feelings, anger and even infantile comments of others to flow through me without them having to feel any different from the positive and lighthearted communication I'm more used to within my group of friends on Twitter.
I'm not proud of my reaction or retaliation but I certainly won't be losing any sleep over it. It's been years since I experienced any untoward behaviour on the Internet. I'm 34, I'm a mum, I'm a teacher. I figured it was just a matter of letting go and getting on, letting go and getting on.
And so, without more ado, even though the above person attempted to continue our discussion further, I was quite desperate to get out of my drippy cliché diving gear, remove the octopus from my arsehole, let go and get on with the bloody dinner.
On receiving this response by somebody of whom I had never heard before, I felt annoyed. Not because this person had challenged my silly idea, I'm cool with that shit, but because it seemed like such a waste of time on his part, especially considering all the other stuff that's happening in the world and on the Internet.
I asked myself why somebody would seek out a completely random tweet which was intended to brighten up a handful of people's lives for ten seconds (at the most) and that was favourited by a maximum of seven and maybe retweeted twice, just to tell me it was inaccurate and drippy?
Now, I'm not in the habit of name calling or finger pointing. I enjoy Twitter and the people I interact with. We're all human and entitled to our say, we all make mistakes, we can all live our lives the way we want to and agree/disagree with whatever the hell we like. But nevertheless I checked his timeline and decided to pinpoint the state of his spelling just as casually as he targeted my mental health related tweet, and a couple of other boring things I'd mentioned in the days running up.
That's pretty much the end of the story. Other than to say that I don't think this guy was an accident. I think he showed up to remind me how to easily accept and allow the thoughts, feelings, anger and even infantile comments of others to flow through me without them having to feel any different from the positive and lighthearted communication I'm more used to within my group of friends on Twitter.
I'm not proud of my reaction or retaliation but I certainly won't be losing any sleep over it. It's been years since I experienced any untoward behaviour on the Internet. I'm 34, I'm a mum, I'm a teacher. I figured it was just a matter of letting go and getting on, letting go and getting on.
And so, without more ado, even though the above person attempted to continue our discussion further, I was quite desperate to get out of my drippy cliché diving gear, remove the octopus from my arsehole, let go and get on with the bloody dinner.
Monday, March 21, 2016
BPD Experiences Explained.
(Good luck)!
I don't speak very often about my mental health experiences. Mainly because I didn't realise my experiences weren't 'normal' for a great many years. Like a lot of people suffering MH issues I always just felt 'different' and 'misunderstood'.
It took 32 years and my sister finding me in tears on my bathroom floor after a long, lonely binge drinking session and a few desperate text messages to finally push me through the door of a local psychoanalyst who claimed he might be able to help me.
I have had problems for as long as I can remember. I was a blue baby, born temporarily without oxygen. I didn't sleep through the night until I was almost four years old and chose to scream my way through the dark instead. My mum wanted to suffocate me. She doesn't deny that fact.
As a toddler I would have tantrums that would turn into fits of anger, lashing out at anybody who came too close. Eventually my mum took me to the doctor who told her not to let me eat sweets or drink orange juice. Which led to me not being allowed to go to birthday parties in case I ate something I shouldn't. Like a Gremlin! He told her I had a tartrazine intolerance and that the best way to handle me was to lock me in my bedroom- which I destroyed by ripping up my carpet and writing all over the walls. I wrecked every room in the house!
And I would scream and scream until I fell to sleep. Completely unable to comprehend why nobody would hold me through the wave. But as soon as I would start to calm down I would feel deep sadness, alone and totally misunderstood. I spent hours in a heap behind closed doors.
Growing up I tried my hardest to please my parents and keep the peace. I already felt like I'd let them down being such an emotionally sensitive and difficult child. My Relationship with my dad was nonexistent. He was a police man. I'm not blaming his work but he was very strict and I find it upsetting to talk about but he would take his stress out on our dogs at the time. And also my sister. I was so scared to make the same mistakes I kind of deleted myself from existence. It seemed far easier to stay locked away in my bedroom, draw and write poems.
As a teenager I slipped in and out of several relationships. The first lasting two years with a young man who took care of me. He was my best friend. I was very close to him but decided to break away when I started to go out drinking on a regular basis. Drink took over my life for a few years after this. I would go out with friends and intoxicate myself to the point of no return. I don't know how I got home on most occasions. And sometimes I didn't. I was once taken home by the police (my dad's work mates) after asking the driver of the taxi my friends had bundled me into to drop me off at a random house a few miles from my own. I then tried to convince the family who lived there that I was their daughter.
I met my second serious boyfriend right after I was sexually used and abused by my boss in my very first work place. I fell very deeply in love with him which was actually quite a terrible thing for my fragile heart. I would have done anything for him. The love I felt for him was overpowering. It was almost an obsession. I lived through him. I did everything within my power to be with him all the time. And he loved me back. I trusted him. Yet, this very same love and trust turned into something much darker over time. I started having panic attacks on nights out together. I started to imagine he would leave me. I became self conscious. I began to feel inadequate. I felt physically unappealing. I started to compare myself to other women. I saw their beauty and lost sight of my own. After several months I didn't recognise myself anymore. I had lost a lot of weight as my second dealing with bulimia raged. I couldn't cope visiting public places with him as it was too stressful and often ended in tears. I started to cut myself. Not all the time. But when I didn't know how to calm myself down I would lock myself in his bedroom and slice into my legs with (new) surgical blades he had leftover from nurse visits after a minor operation he'd had.
My outbursts got so violent he would physically have to hold me down on the floor with my hands behind my head whilst sitting on my legs so I couldn't kick him. Sometimes I would run away, even if it was in the middle of the night. The anger raged like a fire and running through the cold air with tears dripping down my face would help to cool me down. Sometimes I wouldn't even put shoes on. I had no idea what I was doing, I was out of control. I would tear my face apart with my nails. I would throw things around, thump walls so hard I lost the skin off my knuckles. I would throw myself down stairs, jump in front of cars, use rocks and sticks to injure myself if I was outside. There seemed to be no limit to the risks I would take to punish myself for being so bad. So ugly. So evil. So unworthy.
And nobody else suspected a thing. I was a happy person! I was friendly and polite. Calm, kind and caring. Always with a smile on my face. But my emotions were gradually getting more and more erratic and difficult for me to hide and I didn't know where to turn. I lost my job at the time. I had several and was terrible at keeping them. I lost the apartment I lived in because I was clueless as to processing paperwork. It never occurred to me to pay my rent regularly which got me into a lot of trouble. It seemed impossible for me to live a normal life. I was irresponsible and lacked self control and discipline. For a short while I got wrapped up with a group who took drugs and I started to experiment. Thankfully I was strong enough to walk away from that scene after several months.
I left my boyfriend and instantly realised I wouldn't be able to live without him. If it wasn't for my temper tantrums we would be a perfectly happy couple. But it was too late. He didn't want me back no matter how many times I called and begged him to forgive me and take me back. And then I moved to France.
And France was OK to start with. But it didn't last long. I went through a few more years of anger and outbursts, depression and bulimia - until I finally married and had children. And they had the most amazing effect on me. They were the reason I got up every day - and still are. They calmed me down and taught me about a love I'd never felt before. Despite being loved in the past, I had never actually felt it. I thought I was unlovable. But my kids loved me and I could feel it. Every day was a blessing. And I loved them so much I could hear it ringing in my ears!
I separated from my husband almost three years ago. I've had some tough times since then but I also have some wonderful memories. My children live with me. They have been an amazing support and comfort to me. Sometimes when I get really sad and cry, I try to, but I can't always hide it from them. Very often my son takes me in his arms and tells me he loves me. I often feel guilty they have to see me like this but I always take the time to explain to them why I'm upset and that I'll be OK again as soon as I've had a little cry.
I have borderline personality disorder and only recently found out. I am triggered by busy places - markets, towns, beaches, shopping centres. The media - television, Internet, magazines, film, even certain music. And... by loving relationships. When I'm alone I'm happy. But when I get involved with somebody I care about I gradually rewrite myself in order to become the person I believe I have to be to keep them. If I think they like long blonde hair - I'll grow my hair and dye it blonde!
Despite my efforts I was abandoned time after time for being 'nasty, jealous, impulsive, difficult and a pain in the ass'. It's so hard to explain but here's what happens.
When I meet somebody and we like each other I can see that I'm important to them. I can feel it. They send me messages, buy me little gifts, call me often, etc,. etc. I don't appreciate being spoiled by any means but I guess we'd call this the 'honeymoon' period. Several months pass and I feel loved. I feel validated. "FINALLY! Somebody loves me! (because I don't)". And that's a nice thing. But everybody knows this can't last forever. We all have lives to lead and other stuff happens. So these messages, gifts, calls, they start to fade. And it works both ways, I know it's perfectly normal.
But it triggers something deep within me. The fear of Rejection. And to deal with this pain I deliberately keep my distance. I try to ignore my partner for fear of being hurt. I can go days without saying a word, avoiding them at all cost. But the distance is just as difficult for me to cope with and eventually I crumble. This is often interpreted as childish and that's probably quite true. It's a little bit like a game of hide and seek. Except I don't always want to be found. I just want to stay cushioned in my bubble of fear and anger. I don't trust people. I have a hard time accepting I could ever be good enough for anybody. And I believe that once a person sees how unworthy I am they will leave me for somebody far better.
And so I push and push and push them to prove me right. I want them to show me that I knew all along. I knew they would find someone much more intelligent, funny, interesting, carefree, beautiful than me. I LOOK for evidence. I interpret almost everything as a sign they are about to leave me. I'm scared of the TV, of the Internet, of films and of Facebook. Of places where I might compare myself to others. I try to avoid them nowadays. It's better that way.
I can't throw promotional crap in the bin when I empty my letter box, I have to go through it and check for people better than myself. It's absolutely awful. A lot of the time I don't ever realise I'm doing it.
Bulimia has been a part of my life for about ten years now. It's a daily thing and I'm not proud. It's become a part of my life. I eat and I throw up. It used to be more complicated because I would binge eat my way through most days, whereas it's far simpler now. It's just a matter of eating and emptying. I hide it well. Even people who know I'm bulimic don't ask me about it anymore. I guess they presume I'm OK now. If I don't talk about it - neither do they. And that's alright with me because I just don't know how to live my life without my eating disorder. Although I want very much to be healthy, it's just another way I channel my upset.
And when faced with abandonment, or mainly 'fear of', I will hurt myself. Not because I want to scare a person into staying with me. I don't believe in keeping birds in cages. But because I want to punish myself. And I have found nothing to control this so far. That's why I need help and to help myself before I do something too drastic. I have stepped in front of cars in the middle of Paris. I have dangled from windows, temporarily ridden my bike on the wrong side of the road, and last year I landed myself in hospital often slicing into my arm. I believe I am in control to a certain extent because if I wasn't I'd be probably be dead by now. But I am often worried I will succeed in permanently damaging myself without really wanting to. Just because, in those brief and very difficult moments, I truly believe I deserve nothing more but to suffer for being so bad.
And that there, is just a glimpse of my experience with mental health and borderline. I am trying to learn all I can about this disorder and how to battle it on my own. I use my scars to motivate me. I often look at my arm when faced with a challenge, be it running, (I'm quite a sporty person) or something difficult and painful and I tell myself "If I can do that... I can definitely do this"! And there isn't a day goes by where I don't watch my children playing and think to myself how lucky I am to be their mummy.
Thank you for reading this. I appreciate it. And please don't hesitate to leave a comment. If you know somebody who has borderline personality disorder and you don't know how to help. Try simply holding them often and reassuring them you love them. Even if that's the last thing you feel like doing sometimes. It can stop them in their tracks and avoid a full 'crisis'. Discuss how you can work together to ease their 'triggers'. And listen to them without judgement. What they have is a very serious mental health condition that CAN get better, just as it can get worse. Be aware of how you treat your loved ones. They don't mean what they say when they're hurting. They just don't feel worthy of your love. Hold them. Tight!
Saturday, February 27, 2016
BPD and the Stalky Stalking
Social media is definitely a mixed bag for me... and my bpd (borderline personality disorder).
I have met (without actually meeting) a small bunch of wonderful people who have become amazing Internet friends over the last few years and I feel so lucky. I wish I could spend time with them in real life. I have a lot to thank them for and I know there would be plenty of well earned laughter and stupidness.
But I'm quite sure I'd be better off without the bullshit that unravels in my mind when I start to think I'm worthless and that I'm no fun to be around or correspond with. I can spend an awful lot of time stalking people I apparently see as a 'threat' to my existence and yet at the same time I very often feel a connection with these same people. As if they might be a different version of me - and so that's what upsets me. You see? I once read how you should study that which annoys you more closely because it can tell you a lot about yourself.
Let me give you an example.
A few years ago I made a friend through the Internet who I ended up meeting and who is still my friend today. A person I value in many ways and who never fails to cheer me. I appreciate the friendship we had and still share. Although these days we don't speak often I have fond memories of random mischief and good fun.
We spoke often through Twitter and (at the time) Facebook - which I try to avoid these days where possible. He had plenty of followers on Twitter and a good half of those were female. Such is life. Only there was one in particular who seemed really sure of herself, her style, her life. And I started to secretly study all her liaisons with 'MY' friend *rolls eyes*. And it quickly turned into me checking her timeline every single day and marvelling at her confidence and brilliant life. I admired her and at the same time I didn't want to admire her at all because she made me feel so dull and boring. It made me angry and I fell out with my friend because I couldn't understand why he would bother talking to me... when he could talk to her and have far more fun.
In my eyes she was attractive and full of character. She was colourful and a bit of a rebel. She swore and had a way with words that I envied. She didn't seem to care what people thought of her or
whether she was trashy. She didn't seem to be influenced by others. Or give a damn about her size (which I struggle with daily as I alternate between bulimia and anorexia - which is getting better). So while I tried to like her I secretly hated her for being so amazing. And in turn I hated myself for hating anybody at all. I dislike bad feelings, especially towards other people.
It's a complete waste of time.
Because... isn't life all about learning from other people? Allowing yourself to be positively influenced by people you admire so that
you can apply their traits to your own life and live better for it? Well, I couldn't see this at the time, and I still can't! I'm capable of writing it but I'm not sure I'm capable of actually admitting I know I'm right. Because I'm still pretty sure she's amazing and I don't like how I compare.
This isn't quite 'Single White Female' but a fair few years have passed and I still check her timeline every few months, maybe four or five times a year. I have actually copied a few things I admired about her life into my own. But I don't feel comfortable with the
way I dealt with any of this. And I certainly don't feel proud.
So, if I'm your friend on Twitter and if I feel a connection with you then the likelihood is that I will check your followers list now and then and I will get lost, for short periods, in YOUR world. I will check photos and feel temporarily inadequate. I will wonder what it takes to be as brilliant and as beautiful as the people you chat with. And I will wish I could be somebody similar rather than me. And then I'll come back down to earth and get on with my life. I have shit loads of tasks to complete, a job, two children and a cat to entertain. And I love my life. I love my children and the stupid
nonsense we come up with. I often propel myself into the future so I can imagine looking back on my time with my children and I don't want any regrets. I want to be happy with my memories and I want them to be equally so.
But bpd sometimes gets in my way and I feel awkward. Without going into detail about the rest of my experiences with this mental health monster! ; ) I just wanted to share my 'stalking' story with you. Because it's quite honestly a problem. I don't have an awful lot of time for me - let alone worry about how much better other
people are! And just to clarify, I don't feel jealousy when I 'stalk' people I admire. I'm happy with my life and all the simple things I experience every day. From getting up and drinking tea right through to a hearty beer in an evening! I just feel temporarily worthless because
these people seem so in tune with who they are and I appear to be addicted to tracking them down just to make myself feel bad. It's something I have to learn to control and eventually stop because I don't want their looks, possessions, lives, jobs, money, etc. I think I'd just like their confidence to be whole and alive. And in order to be those things I have to log off and get out!
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you've had similar experiences with (or without) bpd.
I have met (without actually meeting) a small bunch of wonderful people who have become amazing Internet friends over the last few years and I feel so lucky. I wish I could spend time with them in real life. I have a lot to thank them for and I know there would be plenty of well earned laughter and stupidness.
But I'm quite sure I'd be better off without the bullshit that unravels in my mind when I start to think I'm worthless and that I'm no fun to be around or correspond with. I can spend an awful lot of time stalking people I apparently see as a 'threat' to my existence and yet at the same time I very often feel a connection with these same people. As if they might be a different version of me - and so that's what upsets me. You see? I once read how you should study that which annoys you more closely because it can tell you a lot about yourself.
Let me give you an example.
A few years ago I made a friend through the Internet who I ended up meeting and who is still my friend today. A person I value in many ways and who never fails to cheer me. I appreciate the friendship we had and still share. Although these days we don't speak often I have fond memories of random mischief and good fun.
We spoke often through Twitter and (at the time) Facebook - which I try to avoid these days where possible. He had plenty of followers on Twitter and a good half of those were female. Such is life. Only there was one in particular who seemed really sure of herself, her style, her life. And I started to secretly study all her liaisons with 'MY' friend *rolls eyes*. And it quickly turned into me checking her timeline every single day and marvelling at her confidence and brilliant life. I admired her and at the same time I didn't want to admire her at all because she made me feel so dull and boring. It made me angry and I fell out with my friend because I couldn't understand why he would bother talking to me... when he could talk to her and have far more fun.
In my eyes she was attractive and full of character. She was colourful and a bit of a rebel. She swore and had a way with words that I envied. She didn't seem to care what people thought of her or
whether she was trashy. She didn't seem to be influenced by others. Or give a damn about her size (which I struggle with daily as I alternate between bulimia and anorexia - which is getting better). So while I tried to like her I secretly hated her for being so amazing. And in turn I hated myself for hating anybody at all. I dislike bad feelings, especially towards other people.
It's a complete waste of time.
Because... isn't life all about learning from other people? Allowing yourself to be positively influenced by people you admire so that
you can apply their traits to your own life and live better for it? Well, I couldn't see this at the time, and I still can't! I'm capable of writing it but I'm not sure I'm capable of actually admitting I know I'm right. Because I'm still pretty sure she's amazing and I don't like how I compare.
This isn't quite 'Single White Female' but a fair few years have passed and I still check her timeline every few months, maybe four or five times a year. I have actually copied a few things I admired about her life into my own. But I don't feel comfortable with the
way I dealt with any of this. And I certainly don't feel proud.
So, if I'm your friend on Twitter and if I feel a connection with you then the likelihood is that I will check your followers list now and then and I will get lost, for short periods, in YOUR world. I will check photos and feel temporarily inadequate. I will wonder what it takes to be as brilliant and as beautiful as the people you chat with. And I will wish I could be somebody similar rather than me. And then I'll come back down to earth and get on with my life. I have shit loads of tasks to complete, a job, two children and a cat to entertain. And I love my life. I love my children and the stupid
nonsense we come up with. I often propel myself into the future so I can imagine looking back on my time with my children and I don't want any regrets. I want to be happy with my memories and I want them to be equally so.
But bpd sometimes gets in my way and I feel awkward. Without going into detail about the rest of my experiences with this mental health monster! ; ) I just wanted to share my 'stalking' story with you. Because it's quite honestly a problem. I don't have an awful lot of time for me - let alone worry about how much better other
people are! And just to clarify, I don't feel jealousy when I 'stalk' people I admire. I'm happy with my life and all the simple things I experience every day. From getting up and drinking tea right through to a hearty beer in an evening! I just feel temporarily worthless because
these people seem so in tune with who they are and I appear to be addicted to tracking them down just to make myself feel bad. It's something I have to learn to control and eventually stop because I don't want their looks, possessions, lives, jobs, money, etc. I think I'd just like their confidence to be whole and alive. And in order to be those things I have to log off and get out!
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you've had similar experiences with (or without) bpd.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
There's Something About Horses (Mental Health and Stigma)
If I were asked to explain everything I know about horses I'd probably manage to talk for about 30 seconds. Quite a lot of them are white, brown, sometimes grey. They usually have four legs and they seem to like to run around in fields with green grass. Oh, and they have big teeth.
Truth is I'm not really bothered about horses at all. So why the hell would I want to learn anything about them!
Until one evening, I was invited to a friend's house where I found myself mingling with a bunch of horse fanatics and, of course, I had nothing to say on the subject. I had no idea how to answer, what to ask or how to appear interested. Because I wasn't! It was quite embarrassing and I spent my night staring at table decorations and searching for words. So the next time I was invited I researched and prepared myself with a little knowledge. I felt much more comfortable about horse chat and even had a handful of simple questions to fire.
I hope it goes without saying that animal banter is by no means a comparison to that of Mental Illness, but imagine if you had been invited to a meal with medical professionals and a load of people suffering with disorders of this type. That you had no friggin idea about Bipolar I, let alone Bipolar II but that Mental Health was the topic of conversation for the entire soiree. Agh!
What the batshit you gonna say, eh?
Imagine, then, falling in 'story book love' with a person who has, for example, Borderline Personality Disorder. Now you really can't hide in the toilets until s/he 'gets over it' can you! But you haven't got a clue what to do, how to act, how to react, what to say, what not to say. In fact, you don't even know what BPD is. Jeez. Now what?
There are babies born every few seconds, all destined to be challenged in one way or another with mental illness - at one time or another, if not for the entirety of their lives. We can't simply chose the happy sperm! And when they tell you your baby is one of the two in 1,000 people who has Autism and that his disorder is life-changing and that he will never be "normal", you can't send him back. So whatcha gonna do?
Are you going to try to learn everything you can on the subject? If you've taken the time to get to know, or create this person from scratch, surely they're worth your time and effort. Or are you going to continue loving him or her in complete denial of their difficulties. Sweeping every episode under the rug? You can certainly try it for a while but most of the time mental disorders don't cater for this kind of attitude. You're simply going to have to either open your heart, or walk away.
I don't believe we are ignorant. I don't believe in beating the MH drum and accusing people of not being 'open' or 'aware' enough. I had no idea I was born with borderline symptoms. It took me 32 years to get a diagnosis. I just thought I was 'difficult'. I even blamed my being a Scorpio! It wasn't until I made the link between close relationships and my symptoms, which were gradually getting worse with respect to my personal safety, that I realised I had my arse to save, as well as to preserve the quality of the lives of those around me. When I picked up a pencil and started to work through my life on paper I noticed patterns connected to stages and events in my childhood. I wrote about my feelings and how I reacted to different situations and people. I wrote about my deepest darkest fears and beliefs. I was honest with myself because I figured it was absolutely necessary if I was to get better one day.
I eventually happened upon an article about borderline personality disorder and when I'd finished reading it I cried a river. It all made perfect sense and I suddenly realised I wasn't a monster, I just needed some support, a diagnosis and to learn how to heal.
If I hadn't done this work and had decided to sweep my dangerous symptoms under the rug, as far fetched as it might sound, I might not be here now. I still have a very long way to go and I really do believe myself to be incredibly lucky because I finally recognised my illness. A lot of people never get this far, many of them deny they have a problem, and some never realise at all.
Personally I think that, like a lot of subjects, until we are directly affected we're not always ready to hear the details. And if you're perfectly happy with your life and with the lives of those around you, then that is quite a wonderful thing. We shouldn't have to force the 'healthy' to listen to us until their ears bleed. What I would like to see more of is empathy and the simple act of validating our suffering from time to time. But not in a DROP EVERYTHING way, more a - 'Can I do anything to help', or, 'Would you like to talk to me, I'm here to listen' kind of way.
It's our job to work on ourselves to the best we possibly can. It is very difficult, especially when members of your family don't want to listen, this hurts an awful lot, I know. But whether affected by a mental health issue or a stable full of horses you have no idea how to ride, everybody has a right to smile. Those who don't care for you or your pains, perhaps don't deserve your time in the first place. Don't try too hard to make them understand. Put that energy, if possible, into you, yourself, those you love and those who love you back.
Truth is I'm not really bothered about horses at all. So why the hell would I want to learn anything about them!
Until one evening, I was invited to a friend's house where I found myself mingling with a bunch of horse fanatics and, of course, I had nothing to say on the subject. I had no idea how to answer, what to ask or how to appear interested. Because I wasn't! It was quite embarrassing and I spent my night staring at table decorations and searching for words. So the next time I was invited I researched and prepared myself with a little knowledge. I felt much more comfortable about horse chat and even had a handful of simple questions to fire.
I hope it goes without saying that animal banter is by no means a comparison to that of Mental Illness, but imagine if you had been invited to a meal with medical professionals and a load of people suffering with disorders of this type. That you had no friggin idea about Bipolar I, let alone Bipolar II but that Mental Health was the topic of conversation for the entire soiree. Agh!
What the batshit you gonna say, eh?
Imagine, then, falling in 'story book love' with a person who has, for example, Borderline Personality Disorder. Now you really can't hide in the toilets until s/he 'gets over it' can you! But you haven't got a clue what to do, how to act, how to react, what to say, what not to say. In fact, you don't even know what BPD is. Jeez. Now what?
There are babies born every few seconds, all destined to be challenged in one way or another with mental illness - at one time or another, if not for the entirety of their lives. We can't simply chose the happy sperm! And when they tell you your baby is one of the two in 1,000 people who has Autism and that his disorder is life-changing and that he will never be "normal", you can't send him back. So whatcha gonna do?
Are you going to try to learn everything you can on the subject? If you've taken the time to get to know, or create this person from scratch, surely they're worth your time and effort. Or are you going to continue loving him or her in complete denial of their difficulties. Sweeping every episode under the rug? You can certainly try it for a while but most of the time mental disorders don't cater for this kind of attitude. You're simply going to have to either open your heart, or walk away.
I don't believe we are ignorant. I don't believe in beating the MH drum and accusing people of not being 'open' or 'aware' enough. I had no idea I was born with borderline symptoms. It took me 32 years to get a diagnosis. I just thought I was 'difficult'. I even blamed my being a Scorpio! It wasn't until I made the link between close relationships and my symptoms, which were gradually getting worse with respect to my personal safety, that I realised I had my arse to save, as well as to preserve the quality of the lives of those around me. When I picked up a pencil and started to work through my life on paper I noticed patterns connected to stages and events in my childhood. I wrote about my feelings and how I reacted to different situations and people. I wrote about my deepest darkest fears and beliefs. I was honest with myself because I figured it was absolutely necessary if I was to get better one day.
I eventually happened upon an article about borderline personality disorder and when I'd finished reading it I cried a river. It all made perfect sense and I suddenly realised I wasn't a monster, I just needed some support, a diagnosis and to learn how to heal.
If I hadn't done this work and had decided to sweep my dangerous symptoms under the rug, as far fetched as it might sound, I might not be here now. I still have a very long way to go and I really do believe myself to be incredibly lucky because I finally recognised my illness. A lot of people never get this far, many of them deny they have a problem, and some never realise at all.
Personally I think that, like a lot of subjects, until we are directly affected we're not always ready to hear the details. And if you're perfectly happy with your life and with the lives of those around you, then that is quite a wonderful thing. We shouldn't have to force the 'healthy' to listen to us until their ears bleed. What I would like to see more of is empathy and the simple act of validating our suffering from time to time. But not in a DROP EVERYTHING way, more a - 'Can I do anything to help', or, 'Would you like to talk to me, I'm here to listen' kind of way.
It's our job to work on ourselves to the best we possibly can. It is very difficult, especially when members of your family don't want to listen, this hurts an awful lot, I know. But whether affected by a mental health issue or a stable full of horses you have no idea how to ride, everybody has a right to smile. Those who don't care for you or your pains, perhaps don't deserve your time in the first place. Don't try too hard to make them understand. Put that energy, if possible, into you, yourself, those you love and those who love you back.
Monday, September 26, 2011
The Applebody Tree. (Mum Just Stared At Me)
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| The Loo-Kout. (Lookout From My Loo) |
We bodged up all the holes and cracks in the bedroom and living room walls with this miracle cream called 'Hard As Nails' from The Englandshires that I silently accused of being some kind of Viagra in disguise, and my mum, bless her, took me a pair of pink marigold gloves which I refused to wear. I was in my element! I was kind of hoping I'd get messy and I did. My jeans were covered in dust from kneeling on the floor and I looked like a billion year old woman by the time we'd finished work.
We went out into the back garden for a while and I picked apples from one of the trees. The grass is absolutely strewn with them and they're perfectly nice enough to eat now. A couple of weeks back they were only fit for pies with lots of sugar in them. Mmmm... pies with lots of sugar. Anyway, I filled up a bag with them for my mum whilst attempting to convince her that the tree roots must be fueled by dead bodies because I couldn't think of any better reason for such an abundance! Mum just stared.
There's a wooden garage out there too! It's big old doors creaked like crazy when I pulled them back to look inside. There's pretty ivy growing up the walls & I can imagine using it as a place to string up multicoloured fairy lights and entertain people on summer evenings, whilst feeding them pies from The Applebody Tree. And they wont mind because they wont know!
I also had a crafty climb up the loft ladder in the tiny hallway between the kids bedrooms and the upstairs living room at the top of the windy wooden staircase from the kitchen underneath. My mum watched my back for me in case I toppled off and killed myself - which I didn't.
It was dark in the attic. But at the very least I could make out some cobwebs; which was enough to convince me there were secrets and hidden bodies up there too. I told my mum of my findings. I also told her I'd be growing cannabis up there. Mum just stared.
And then, once I'd closed all the doors and shutters and windows upstairs, we swept our way back down the windy wooden staircase into the kitchen again, where I found a rather substantial and potentially worrying water leak spreading its way across the tiles. I put that down to bodies, clogging up the pipes.
"I think I'm going to like it here" I said. Mum . . . just stared.
And well, I guess that's enough for now. But maybe tune in some other time, if you can be arsed. You haven't met my neighbours yet.
*Grins* I have!
LE x
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Dear Customer Services
I'm writing to complain about the microwave I purchased with you last Thursday afternoon.
Happy with the impeccable service I received at your store last week, I set the microwave up on my doorstep that very evening - as I figured this would be the best place for it to do the job required. And every morning since, I've stood and I've watched it from my bus stop. I've watched it as my bus has pulled away and almost turned the first corner on my journey to work. I've had everybody else on the bus watch it. Because, I'm sure you'll agree, Dear Customer services, that twenty seven eyes are better than two. And, quite frankly, I feel I've watched and I've waited for much longer than is necessary.
Hell . . . I even asked my neighbour to check on it once my bus was out of sight. In case of some sort of delay in the electrics and wiring. But he seems to have come to the same conclusion as I have . . .
It hasn't waved. Not once.
LE x
Happy with the impeccable service I received at your store last week, I set the microwave up on my doorstep that very evening - as I figured this would be the best place for it to do the job required. And every morning since, I've stood and I've watched it from my bus stop. I've watched it as my bus has pulled away and almost turned the first corner on my journey to work. I've had everybody else on the bus watch it. Because, I'm sure you'll agree, Dear Customer services, that twenty seven eyes are better than two. And, quite frankly, I feel I've watched and I've waited for much longer than is necessary.
Hell . . . I even asked my neighbour to check on it once my bus was out of sight. In case of some sort of delay in the electrics and wiring. But he seems to have come to the same conclusion as I have . . .
It hasn't waved. Not once.
LE x
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