Changing the Resolution a.k.a Bringing in 2014

The image above was taken from www.sodahead.com. 

I absolutely, under no circumstance, make New Year's resolutions. Not because I am perfect (I am not) and not because there aren't things I wish to change (there are) but because unless I'm willing to make those changes under normal circumstances, I'm just not going to waste my breath. 

I made a lot of promises through the years. Go back to school. Get my license. Stop smoking. Stop being so emotional. I've managed nearly every single one of them. But I made those transitions on my own terms, in my own time. 

Now don't let me burst your little New Year's resolution bubble. Maybe you will be lucky and accomplish your lofty goals for the year (statistics show that to be highly unlikely, sorry) and if you do I am impressed. Keep in mind though that every day of your life you should be challenging yourself to become something better than you currently are and not just change what you aren't. 

Now excuse me whilst I get off my mushy high horse and get to the real down and dirty. Be careful out there on the drunk-drivingest of nights. If you manage to get too plastered to drive yourself try in your drunken stupor to remember that AAA gives free rides tonight and will tow your car entirely for free to your home. Don't let anyone start their 2014 having to bury a loved one. No excuses! Happy New Year!

Then There was Favoritism

Don't get me wrong. My family is crazy and dysfunctional just like the rest of the world. But when it comes to goods and services, at least they will pay the person helping them for their time. My dad and grandma have never been the type to do their own oil changes or tires. They always take it somewhere to be done. Zach is a master at that shit. So my dad's headlight broke and he offered to pay Zach to fix it. A headlight. He offered to pay Zach to fix a headlight. That's wonderful! But then Zach starts on about how he should just bring it over to the apartment because it's stupid for him to have to go over there. 

Here's my problem with all of that:

1) He doesn't mind going out of his way to fix his sibling's/family's problems. Don't get me wrong, if he wants to do that that is fine. But I don't go soliciting his help for my family... if I ask him and he agrees to do it, then great. If not, I tell my family to go suck an egg. (Which is a lot to do considering that anytime we've needed to be bailed out of a financial situation, they've been there.)

2) It's less than a five minute drive to my dad's house. And it's at least a ten-fifteen minute drive to his family's. 

3) My dad will actually pay him for his troubles. 

I let him run off and spend six hours with his family to fix a shithole (with none other than the gratitude of his siblings/mom/dad) and a ten-fifteen minute trip to help my dad is too much for them. 

I know I shouldn't be as angry as I am. But what else am I supposed to get out of this? If anyone has the answers, feel free to enlighten me.

BPD Things: And Other Stuff

  
Thanks to bpdthings.tumblr.com for these two images. 


There is many a tragedy that is involved with having BPD. For starters, you push away the kind of relationships that you crave. (Read more in The Essential Family Guide to Borderline Personality Disorder.) Another one is that when you are already struggling with your own emotions, it is very hard to feel empathy for another person that is going through their own crisis. 

For some reason, listening to my friends complain about their lives triggers my "don't give a shit" feeling. I don't know why because these are people that I care about deeply. I have to work hard to ignore the, "They don't know what bad really is," and dig deeper in my soul to grasp a decent response. As with many things that are BPD, it's just not fucking fair. 

I don't want to be some cold-hearted bitch that can't seem to trigger the correct response for a hurting friend. I want to be able to empathize, without feeling the need to compare or start up my own drama. One of these days, I will be the person that I so desperately want to be.

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey

Midnight Madness

'Tis the wee hours of the morning and I'm still awake. Norco plus a late start on my usual dosage of Prozac and I'm about as relaxed as a meth addict whose dealer was just busted. 

Also, I noticed that once in a great while when my brain is put on "hold" if you will (meaning that it's not being used at full potential) I start to get this vague sensation of sadness deep in my chest. It's similar to the feeling one might get when they are about to cry but... that's not what it is. It's just, nothing. I'm not sad. Nothing has upset me. I'm just lying on my stomach reading the humor section of Pinterest, but suddenly, my chest feels like it's contracting and I have to get up and move. I don't want to move with any purpose, I don't have a destination or an activity in mind at all. I just need to move my body. The only way I can seem to describe it to Zach is that it suddenly feels like something is wrong but I don't know what it is or why it feels like anything is wrong. 

I sure wish I knew what my mind was setting me up for sometimes.

The Truth About Why I Hate the Holidays

It's not because presents truly matter because honestly, they don't. It's that Christmas has become so damned materialistic that when my husband-y type person doesn't get me one, it makes me wonder. I wonder if I actually mean something to him or if I'm just a means to an end. Am I just here to be Mommy? I mean, this morning, after I gave him his gifts from me and the kids, he sat there with a look of shock on his face. 

"Why did you get me presents?"
"...because it's Christmas."
"Well, if I had known I would have at least tried."

I guess to me, if he had cared about me, he would have at least tried. 

I know this isn't realistic. I know this is materialistic. I know that truly, my family is alive, I have food and shelter and two beautiful boys and a girl. But I feel like the only one who wants to go above and beyond for me... is me. 

I know that this is ridiculous and I know it's just a bunch of crazy. Of COURSE, a present doesn't mean his love for me. Sometimes it's hard to separate the internal monologue from reality. And this, this my friends, is why having BPD is so incredibly frustrating. You can't even enjoy one little holiday.

Merry Christmas, Yule, Holidays, etc. etc. 

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey

Why Insurance Sucks...

Okay, that's a big fat lie. Insurance is amazing! If you can get it, that is. Which I can't or haven't been able to for years. Because reasons. No, seriously, I'm too "high risk" with my "preexisting condition." Thanks to a bad back and a heart issue I had (that might I add is only an issue during pregnancy and with a tubal is pretty difficult to put myself at risk of) they are terrified to insure me. Don't get me wrong, I'm willing to pay my dues. I'll pay a higher premium, or limit my doctor's visits or something bu it's awfully difficult to take care of myself and not become one of the disabled that is "leeching off of the valued members of society" when I can't receive any kind of preventative care. 

See, here's the thing:
1) I need to see an orthopedic doctor/pain care specialist regularly to make sure that I am not further injuring my spine and/or developing another form of degenerative disease. Until I was uninsured, regular treatment with pain management helped me get out of bed and be a functional parent/wife/human.
2) Therapy is a big plus.
3) The heart issue was not permanent and was a direct result of a pregnancy. I have no longer had any issues on an EKG or in any lab work or ECHO, so there is no reason to include it.
4) Isn't preventative care kind of the crux of good health? I mean, vaccinations (well, for those of us who do), regular physicals, women's health checks is kind of what extended our life expectancy. I would imagine that those who believe the poor (or at least low middle class) are the bane of their existence would rather them be in good working then disabled from a preventable or MANAGEABLE illness.

Don't get me wrong. I don't believe that the ACA (or Obamacare for those who can't understand abbreviations) is the perfect solution or even a full solution. (Then again, I'm also a big fan of universal healthcare.) But I think a big step in fixing this muck of a country is to fix the ones that are on the BOTTOM of the totem pole, not the top. Those on the top are fully capable of handling themselves. But any smart nation would recognize that the empires that fall, end up having a giant space between their classes. 

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that we should "take from the rich to give to the poor" although I'm not entirely against the idea either. What I AM saying is that any employer worth his salt recognizes that they didn't get there completely by themselves and after a certain point wouldn't even be making their millions without the little people on the bottom that are willing to work for them. 

Those cashiers, food industry workers, janitors... yeah, imagine a world without them. I know I'd be pissed if the chalupa was a thing of the past because no one was willing to accept the spot of chalupa maker. 

Food for thought. (Pun only slightly intended.)

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey

P.S: If you can't follow my train of thought, that's kind of the point... this blog is named "Random by Rachel" for a reason. To organize the chaos in my mind. Thank you for your time!

A Good Day

Sometimes, I have good days. They are few and far between and normally don't last for an extended period of time but for a few brief hours, I'm happy. I bounce around, skip, jump, prance, pirouette, etc. etc. As long as humanly possible before my brain decides to stab-murder me all over again. 

And in these brief moments of respite, the children can be screaming, the phone can be ringing, a pile of laundry can be glaring at me ominously and the sink can be filled to the brim with dishes and not a bit of it will touch or harm me because my happy is exactly like my sad or my angry. It's black and white. It is perfect.

Disappearing

Every now and then, I get this overwhelming feeling of dread. Shortly thereafter, it feels like my spirit is detached from my body and I'm just not even there anymore. It's an incredibly surreal and frightening experience. Normally, clinging on to Zach while he wraps his arms around me (blocking out all of the fear of outside influences) brings me back to reality. Until then though, it's very easy for it to result in a panic attack. Let me lay the stage for you:

I'm sitting down and watching a show when suddenly my heart bottoms out into my stomach. I get a tingling sensation all the way down my spine and my eyes get sort of unfocused. I start to get scared and feel as if my body is trying to tear off into a million directions. When I finally start to come back down from the fear, I'm usually pretty shaken and confused about what triggered it in the first place.

These experiences don't happen very often for me. When they do happen, however, it's easy for it to alter my entire mind frame for the day. As a BP, I can suggest for fellow BP's to ask for a hug from their "person" to bring you back down, at least at the beginning stages of learning to deal with BPD. For non-BP's, you can ask your BP if they are alright (Zach often asks me this when I seem to glaze over or look "startled) and if they need a hug or if you can do anything. Some people prefer not to be touched, especially if one of these events can trigger a panic attack so don't automatically grasp for them. 

And believe me, I understand that as a non-BP it can be overwhelming to figure out what your BP needs... but that frustration you feel is multiplied exponentially by the BP who even while they are present in their body can't seem to control any of their emotions or even "out of body" experiences. Imagine living in a world where you seem to be a passenger in your own body and you be able to understand a bit better. Be safe while disassociating!

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey

Having the Feels

Have you ever woken up after a night of drinking and immediately thought, "Oh, crap, I have a lot of apologizing to do?" That is exactly what it feels like to be me on a daily basis. Have you seen that blog, "Reasons My Son/Daughter is Crying?" A lot of times, that is exactly why a BP is crying/raging/feeling/etc. I'd like for one minute to give you the thought process and raging of at least ONE person with BPD:

Oh, man. My kid is so cute. I love playing with him and his daddy. I love having such a great family. It's nice being happy. Tehe, his giggles are adorable. I'm going to get some of this laundry picked up off of the floor so we have more room to play. *sigh* I really hate that the Norco makes me OCD about cleaning. Can't I just separate the socks a bit later, I just want to get back to playing. Wait, what is he doing? Why is he getting up? 

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to smoke." 

"No."

"I'm just going to smoke, it won't be more than two-three minutes."

"But I'm just clearing up some laundry so we can keep playing. We were having fun." 

Please don't smoke. It will entirely ruin the mood. I'm happy and having fun and it's so hard for me to have fun and why can't I just say these things out loud without sounding like a total psycho hose beast? 

"I'll be back in in a few minutes."

"Fine, I'll just go back to what I was doing. There's no point anyways."

Well, that was a bit harsh. I mean, yeah, you WANTED to play with him and the kiddo but it's not like it was the end of the world. Whatever I'm going back to the room to look at Pinterest or something. I mean, you should get what you want and he's a total douche bag for not staying in and just waiting for his stupid cigarette. It's just a cigarette, it shouldn't be more important than me. Why IS IT more important than me? It must be because I'm crazy and blow up at him. Why do I blow up at him? Because he does stupid shit. Jesus Christ, I really would like my head to just stop it already. I feel like I'm running in circles. Fine, I'll look at some Pinterest stuff and just ignore him and give him the silent treatment. Well, actually he kind of ignores me anyways when I do the silent treatment. Maybe that's why he does stuff like this... because it means I stop talking and leave him alone so he can do the stuff he really wants to do away from me. Seriously, why does he stay here? I mean, if I am SO awful then why doesn't he just leave. I mean, everyone else left too so it's bound to happen anyways. Why does he toy with me and drag me along with him for so long? *sigh* Seriously, it would be so nice if for just one day, an entire day, I could just... not be me. I could just meditate on nothing or read without my mind drifting off to other shit. It's like no one cares enough to figure out why I am the way I am. Why AM I the way I am? Fuck... I'm so tired now. And chances are that after all of my crap today that I'm going to have nightmares. I should go talk to him. Maybe he doesn't hate me completely yet. I mean, I can always tell him that he doesn't have to stay here. No, wait, he should have to come to me. No, but I want to go to him. I HATE BEING ME!

You know the internal monologue that goes on in your head whenever you are reading a book or just sitting and existing? That monologue is on overdrive in most BP's. Everything is a sign of something more or less. Someone sitting in silence and watching TV is really a signal that they are angry and/or unhappy. It's very tiring living with immense paranoia. 

The biggest thing is to try and get as much rest as you can because exhaustion just exacerbates the situation. And if possible, try very hard when you are in a crisis to stop and focus on something else. Read a book, watch a TV show, something as engaging while still being mindless as possible. It should help to refocus your intense emotions. Sometimes, when I'm in the middle of a rage and need to calm myself to respond to a question, something as simple as staring at the wall (or any object) and repeating internally what the object is can refocus my energy and bring me back down to reality. 

Example: Look at your ceiling fan and repeat, "Fan, fan, fan..." until you are thinking and seeing nothing but that object. Slowly disengage yourself from the object and you should be re-regulated. If you aren't, keep up the mantra until you have calmed. Perhaps it's stupid and you may look like a spazz just staring off into space, but you'd be hard pressed to find something that would be worse than raging at someone with no reason to.

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey

The Truth About My Brain

I am not a normal person. As in, when someone starts laughing and I didn't hear the reason why I don't automatically assume, "Oh, someone must have told a joke." Instead, I'm convinced that they are laughing at my expense. It's ludicrous that everyone on the planet would care so much about me that they would feel the need to not only laugh at me but tell jokes behind my back. Perhaps there is a touch of narcissism in there? Doubtful. I'm my own worst critic. 

The sad thing about BPD is that 10 times out of 10, any compliment that is given to me will be deflected. For no other reason that I am incapable of believing myself worthy of any praise. Whether this is a product of my upbringing or simple insecurity over years of rejection and betrayal or maybe a combination of the two, it doesn't matter because no matter how much willpower I use (or soul searching I do) I still end up being right back where I started which is: nowhere. (Cue a Boondock Saints reference, if you must.) 

What is truly sad is that 27 years of my life has been wasted on torn relationships, ended friendship, betrayal, etc. and easily 85% of it is due to my own behavior. According to one of the books I've been reading, The Essential Family Guide to Borderline Personality Disorder: New Tools and Techniques to Stop Walking on Eggshells by Randi Kreger, that is the true tragedy of BPD. The emotional distress that results in "lashing out" and "crises" is also the very thing that prevents the kind of relationship (long-term and everlasting) that the BP craves. So, when their partner/spouse/what-have-you finally decides to leave, it just jump starts the abandonment-fear-shame cycle all over again. If you get the chance, you should really take a gander at that book. Some parts of it will make you feel like the scum of the earth, while other parts will make you look at yourself in a new light. It's hard to hate yourself when you are compared to a third-degree burn victim, even if it is an emotional burn. 

One of these days, I'll begin to love myself. I pretend to have an ego but the truth is that I am so unbelievably fragile that is kind of pathetic. Thankfully, my children and current job keeps me busy. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure that the chaos that consistently takes over my brain would have me put in an asylum. (Those still exist, right?) 

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey

Sometimes I Act Crazy...

I've started reading a lot more on Borderline Personality Disorder. Also known as, BPD. For reasons that should end up being self-explanatory, I'll just use the abbreviation for now. (Also, if anyone bothers to read this damn thing, I apologize for the lag in between posts. I've been working, have three children and also seem to have developed carpal tunnel or something equally excruciating. Without insurance it makes it difficult to treat any of my psychoses and/or injuries.)

BPD is a personality disorder that is hard to diagnose because many of the symptoms are similar to that of several mood disorders. The diagnosis is still new and scary to me and so I've been doing what I do best: research, research, research. There are surprisingly limited resources that are local (not many therapists care to take on a case of BPD, seeing as how often the patients are the most needy and manipulative out of the entire bunch of mental illnesses) but the books/websites/online support groups are endless. In order to give myself a better forum and hopefully also become a beacon for others like myself (the newly diagnosed or the lost and in need of direction) I am going to try to outline my experiences with the new workbooks I've purchased and also give you some information regarding which websites, etc. are the best to visit. On top of that, I plan on giving everyone updates on my progression with this disorder and my relationship with my husband, my children and most importantly, with myself.  

To start this, I am going to copy down something I wrote earlier today during one of my crisis (after I lashed out at my husband over something incredibly menial.) If you have something negative to say regarding the things that I say or do, please private message me. I am not in professional treatment at the moment but I am working diligently to become a person that not only I deserve but so does my entire family. Thank you for reading!:

I live in a world where my emotions make my life a living hell because I can't control them yet. I get angry and lash out and I don't know why. Then I watch as those who supposedly love me get angry and frustrated by my inability to react in a manner that is proportional to the problem, which to me just reinforces my inability to believe anyone would or should stay. If I weren't such a coward, I'd just kill myself and save everyone the pain of trying to fix me. I just bring chaos and ruin everything.

Surely my kids would be better off with a father who wasn't yelled at all the time, a normal stable mother (or mother figure) who wasn't so damaged and insecure that the entire household is disrupted by her mood swings. Or maybe I'm better off in an institution somewhere, too drugged to care.

He says he will always be there and doesn't mind helping me---but this is the the second day in a row he's been overwhelmed by me. I should have just left him alone and been miserable and alone forever. Or actually just offed my fucking self a long time ago. I mean, what fucking good am I? I'm a fat, useless, hated piece of shit and why won't anyone just put me out of my fucking misery?!

I guess I just don't see much point. My mind's insane thoughts never stop. Everyone must be tired of me or the lame excuses. Or each time we fight he's got to just be waiting for the moment that he can get away from me so he can go to his sane girlfriend, right? I mean that explains "everything." The lack of sex, the lack of affection. Except, no, it doesn't at all. It doesn't explain anything except that I'm too fucking fucked up to accept that I deserve him. It would be so much better for everyone if I just left. Or was hit by a car.

Before anyone feels the need to call the police or stage an intervention, I'd like to clarify that my husband and I do share EVERYTHING together. Meaning that when my emotions take me hostage and I'm feeling "suicidal" (which is rarely anything more than an outburst of depression and not actual suicidal tendencies) I am always open and honest with him and he is always helpful and keeps an eye on me. He monitors my medication and there are no weapons in the house that could be used in any manner above. Again, I am in treatment and have no intention to act out any of my thoughts during crisis. But also keep in mind that if you know someone with BPD that as many as 75% of people diagnosed with the disorder do end up committing suicide. Make yourself aware of the disorder and remain active in those friend's lives, despite their "manipulative" tendencies. It's actually much more serious and terrifying than you might imagine. 

Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and Even a Wifey