Day 20: Expression

How do you usually express yourself?

Let’s see, there’s this, lurking creepily at the cemetery, lurking creepily downtown, lurking…well, I do a lot of creepy lurking. Actually, no, I don’t, not anymore. Ah, the old days. I could also make a bad joke regarding my kid under the heading of breeding monsters, but he’s being a little too sweet today for that. I try to get him in on the self-expression, but so far he’s got his own thing.

Most of my expression now comes with me writing in one form or another, be it here or in my journal (very sporadically) or writing stories that I wish were Gothic. I do create monsters in my stories and actually, in my one finished manuscript I think I came up with some good ones. Oddly enough, most of the things I end up writing are sci-fi or fantasy and God knows I love a good battle scene. I have no idea where any of those things came from. All I want to do is wander the English countryside in a corset writing stories of unquiet souls tormented and longing with some frightening things running through the center of it all. Somewhere some wires got crossed but isn’t that why I’m writing this blog? A lot of my wires have shorts in them, or at least lost their insulation.

Over the years my expression has changed. I began with drawing and painting and then moved on to writing when I  hit the double digits. Later I moved on to music, photography, and graphic art and then came back around to writing. I do a little of all of these depending on where my head is and how much patience I have. I haven’t really painted in years since with my son, it’s a hard thing to get time to do. The same with the self-portrait photography though there’s nothing quite like getting a character out in that cathartic sort of way, by becoming them.

Writing is similar in that way. I can pace and say what they’re saying aloud, figure out how they’re feeling and why they do what they do and in the meantime I get to both become someone else and explore a side of myself and give it voice.  It’s an interesting process.

Today, I was making a piece of art for a friend as a gift. That’s also a nice thing to do. Crafting is a new form of expression for me. I was going to take up knitting to make something hilarious and wonderful for DG, but I really didn’t have the patience for it. I may, if I calm down, give that another try.

For now, I get a wild hair and go with it in whatever form that takes. Maybe I want to do Queen of Hearts makeup and take pictures in that character, maybe I write a story about my dad. It’s all very random but that’s what expression is about to me. You have something that you need to get out and you do, whatever it takes. Sometimes you make something beautiful and sometimes it’s something frightening.

It’s probably the one thing I’d go mad without, creating. Whether it’s lasting or transitory. whatever you make is a reminder to the world that you were here and tells a small bit of your story, your point of view. Everyone deserves to have a piece of themselves seen and understood. There are a million ways to do it, to make your mark. Every one of them is worth your time and energy and who knows, maybe it might even be appreciated by someone who never knew they could do the same thing or how to say something you were able to. It’s all beautiful…the most beautiful thing in the world.

Day 11: Anchors

Is there anything you do that helps keep you grounded?

Why yes, Professor. As a matter of fact there is. It’s less something I do and more something that keeps me from going too far afoul of where I should be.

My son.

It’s not an off the wall answer. In fact it’s pretty typical but I can say, like so many others before me and mean it, that my kid has saved my life. I wouldn’t be here without him.

During every depressive episode where I’ve thought of doing myself in, he’s the thing that keeps me holding on. The past several days, I’ve only made it through the day by looking forward to seeing him at the end of it and having a cuddle on the couch. When I cry, though I try to shield him from such things, he comes up to me and hugs me and gives me kisses so I’m not so sad. Last night, for example, when he could see that I was struggling and trying not to cry, he came up and smiled and wrapped his little arms around me and told me that he loved me. No amount of affirmations, vision boards, or goals can compete. Nothing beats that. Nothing.

My therapist yesterday was talking about anchor thoughts to hold on to when I’m going off a cliff into the ocean of big emotions. Even if I can’t see the shore, or even have faith that there is a shore to swim to somewhere out there, I do have the thought of my son. In my darkest moments, no matter what he’s done or how mad I get, it’s the thought that he would never understand if something happened to me that keeps me afloat.

Of course there are other things, my writing goals, my family, the things I’d like to see, and places I want to visit. My grand dream of getting to England is one of the stronger anchors, but in the really dark times, I can’t see the foggy forest for the trees. Singing is another. Singing is great if you’re in the midst of anxiety or any other fit of emotions really. It releases so much. Sing out those feelings! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sung/cried the lyrics to a song I love to just get it all out. It also helps you to keep breathing regularly and fends off anxiety attacks. Singing is great.

So, for right now in my time of bitter regret when I’m thinking of how I’ve been had and what a maroon I am, you can bet your butt that I’m singing…loudly and possibly badly just waiting for the time when I can go home and cuddle with my kid. It’s those small things in life that turn into big things when you look. For right now I’m digging into the rock on the side of that cliff and slowly climbing up. It may take a while, but the weather’s nice and at the end, though I can’t see what’s ahead, I’m going to just pretend I get cake!

Why not? Whatever keeps you afloat!

Day 9: Night and Day

Question of the day…Do you have mood swings?

Somewhere one of my friends is cracking up at that question…and my mom…and my ex…etc. The big answer there is hell yes! In a matter of hours I can go from being happy to angry to depressed to excited to who knows what… People have always commented on me being moody, but now it all makes sense.

More often than not, people are used to me being melancholy or looking angry without a heck of a lot in between. I’m usually not angry but apparently look it. I’ve learned that’s known as “resting bitch face” which cracks me up. What I seem to present, however, is not the happiest of combinations. When I do smile, people freak out. It scares them, much like when Wednesday Addams smiles. It’s just weird.

We’ll take today for example. I woke up pretty happy, had cuddles with my kid which is the greatest thing ever, spent the morning fairly content, got angry at a brief message, recovered, got to work ditzy and tired, laughed, cried, got bored and annoyed, got busy and annoyed, lost myself in crafting happiness and then after a brief encounter with DG that I hoped would be lighthearted and funny like old times, sank instead into the pit of heartbroken despair…all before 2 O’Clock.

Now I’m crying again over a loss that I feel should never have happened, or maybe a gain that should never have happened. I’m not sure which. I’ve gone back and forth from happy to miserable a few times today and I think that unfortunately, misery has won the day, until I can distract and think otherwise with hope and excitement. I’ve got work to do and I’m doing it, yet in the back of my mind is that small voice with the stamina of a hurricane that keeps reminding me that I wasn’t enough to hold someone’s attention, that to the one I loved,  I wasn’t worth the time or effort. I need an arrow to kill that voice; it’s ruined more than one day recently.

I wish just once that it was a supportive voice that cheered me on, but I think the owner of the current voice killed her. Her name was Hope. I rather liked her. She’ll come back soon and the pendulum will swing the other way and I’ll be on top again, doing something else I probably shouldn’t just because… that’s what it’s like in my head and that’s why my moods are less than stable.

As it goes, the rest of the day is a crap shoot. My homework for the week is to be ambivalent. To feel two ways at the same time about something. It’s a challenge but I have it down right this second. Love and hate, hope and despair.  I’m learning it’s the nature of this Borderline thing to go to extremes one way or the other. To think after all this that I’m on the lower end of the scale when it comes to this disorder makes me wonder if this will get worse or better and what people go through on the severe side. I can be ambivalent on that score too feeling both blessed and cursed…especially cursed right this second.

I’m sure when I swing back the other way I’ll be all about the gratitude. I can’t know when that will be. It’s pointless to plan ahead not knowing where you’ll be but as one of my heroes, Scarlett O’Hara was fond of saying…tomorrow is another day.

Day 8: No. 2 Pencils Only

Question 8: Do you have any other diagnoses? Which ones?

This is a cheerful list of questions now isn’t it? Next they’ll ask why my Aunt Griselda decided to disown the family and why, or what that growth is on Uncle Otto’s shoulder. Seriously I should have read them…Anyway, other diagnoses.

It’s a rather short story.

I was first diagnosed a while ago with general anxiety and depression back when I pregnant and getting divorced. It was a hard time, They put me on antidepressants and that was the end of it. After a while, I  stopped the pills because I had to breastfeed. That was my first cold turkey stop of the meds.

A few years later my doctor put me back on antidepressants because of my anxiety and once again, after a while I didn’t feel like they were working and I wanted to go all natural so I stopped all of the pills I was on. I felt good for a long while but as it always did, the anxiety and depression cycled through and snowballed until I got so run down I couldn’t function, think, focus, or even stand up without dizziness. This was the time leading up to my breakdown. I call it a breakdown because it culminated in me unable to get up off the floor and unable to stop crying. It was a scary time.

Once that pile of fun occurred, I was finally sent by my doctor to a therapist and a psychiatrist. I’m still in the midst really of finding out just exactly what’s going on with me. I was first diagnosed with Severe Panic Disorder and Severe Depressive Disorder. Then it progressed and my upswing happened and I was showing signs of possible BPD, Bi-polar and maybe even PTSD, which are under one umbrella of dissociative personality disorders. I’m still not quite sure what exactly is going on. I’ve just begun to travel down the rabbit hole to discover my particular brand of madness. Everyone has their own.

As time wears on, I may discover something wholly different from what my current labels are. For the meantime we’re sticking with the Severe Panic and Depression because apparently the other things aren’t deemed serious enough to be covered, which amazes me since those things have ruined my relationships for as long as I can remember. I’m thankful that I’m now aware of it. Hopefully no more labels fall my way but if they do, I’m ready with sword (pen) in hand to start hacking away.

 

Day 6: Insert Morrissey Song…

Question 6: How’s your love life? My first thought was to start off with a fit of mad laughter a la Jack Nicholson’s Joker. That mad laugh/cry he erupted into upon first seeing his face after being dropped in the vat of chemicals by Batman was pretty much my reaction to the question. I mean, come on! My love life? A question about that now?!

I suppose the reason it stings is because my hopes and dreams with DG have just gone up in flames faster than Atlanta in Gone with the Wind. They were nice dreams. They encompassed more than my romantic hopes but my career and travel goals as well. Now I have that pierced through the heart feeling and nothing will fill that emptiness. I guess that’s the empty feeling so talked about in borderline circles.  Just last night I became the tired cliché, eating a pint of ice cream in sweats and watching things that made me cry. I had no desire to do or even plan anything that before would have lit up my entire mood.

You know what brought that on? He signed off quickly for the millionth time, but when he abruptly left, he signed off with “All the Best” where he used to say “Love” or “Yours” or “Always”. I know it’s normal and friendly like it should be now that things have been returned to a status of “friendship”, but it gutted me, obviously. A tiny thing flips a switch and I feel it like a tidal wave. It brought to light something else. Simply by the way I am, I push people away. I have for a long time and I began to see the pattern and how it fit with the definitions of Borderline.

I spent some time talking to a trusted friend and I can say that I’m coming to realize just how hard it is with me reading every little shift of interest as the end of all hope and the impending departure of my friend/partner/whatever. It’s a little hard to take. I mean, how can I ever expect anyone to deal with me? It makes the future of a love life look bleak indeed. In that light, seeing that all of my desperate attempts to have someone care for me as much as I care for them is futile. All of my anxiety and pain seems like cheap melodrama to those around me because they can’t feel it or even imagine it…I just look like a drama queen having fits, but that’s not really the case. Feelings sweep me up and overwhelm. Everything is a reaction to them. No premeditated dramatic soliloquy possible. Just a trigger and an opposite reaction, though in this case, not equal…

Once my friend knew that this is what I was feeling and not me in some way trying to comment on his lack of friendship, and that some decisions I needed to make at the time I simply couldn’t because of those triggers, it made our friendship so much smoother. It reminded me of something I watched last night that hit me like a ton of bricks and explained the situation perfectly and succinctly. Kevin Bacon’s character in “The Following” has a habit of pushing people away out of fear and being unable to let people in, not unlike a borderline (you’re either all in or all out). His partner was giving advice to someone who cared for him. He said, “He’ll push, just don’t budge.”

Just don’t budge.

That’s what it’s going to take. I don’t know all that many people with that kind of patience or the understanding to know that it’s all unconscious on my part. The anger, the depression, all of it. I’ve been truly lucky a few times in that I’ve found two best friends, one of them oddly my ex husband, who won’t budge. If I get truly lucky, maybe there’s a guy out there who’s willing to stand his ground as well. Until then, I’ll be here eating my ice cream.

Days 4 and 5: Apocalypse Now

The friend I described losing yesterday once described me to someone as hating life. That’s not entirely accurate. I love life. I do, though I may not beam it every second. I love a million things about life, like a good thunderstorm, clean sheets after a bath, cheesecake, movies, tea…but on occasion, and I’m sure he couldn’t understand this, it gets to be all too much. The feelings overwhelm and the world turns to a cacophonous cloud of noise that makes my skin crawl…like right now.

That’s the reason I’m combining two questions into one post and writing them a day early. It’s a raw moment. I took a big downturn today and I thought that maybe being completely honest in this state might be helpful in some way to someone somewhere.

The questions respectively are: Have you ever attempted suicide and have you ever written a suicide note? I’ve decided to combine them because two posts on this subject would just be too much. As of now, I’m having an anxiety attack. Panic more like. I’ve had to stop a few times because my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it. I’m not sure if it’s the subject matter or the fact that I’m feeling badly again over the loss of people I’ve cared about. It truly feels like I have a big hole in my chest…but moving on…

There have been many times I’ve come very close to ending myself. Why do I admit that? Why talk about such a dark subject at all? Because I’ve managed to thankfully make it past them. When I had nowhere to go, no job, and a baby to feed I came closer than I ever have. I remember the utter hopelessness and isolation I felt. I felt completely worthless and overwhelmed. It was raining non stop for days. I remember just sitting in the car crying harder than I ever had and trying to decide whether to bring the baby inside the church and leave him so he’d have a chance. No notes. Not ever. It was always a private thing.

In the end I managed to talk myself out of that idea and conquer the overwhelming feelings. Like every time before it, I’m so thankful I did. So many joys I would never have known came in the years that followed.

I had one worse one, right before my breakdown. I was at work, once again feeling overwhelmed and undervalued…invisible. The only way I can truly describe it was despair. I felt heavy, pulled down and the room I was sitting in suddenly seemed darker than it had been. There was once again that feeling of having a hole in my chest but simultaneously a pain like being speared through the heart at the same time. I was ready to disappear. Everything was too much but one thought was enough to bring me out of it. My son. I thought about how I’d never see him or hold him again and how he’d never be able to understand. I survived that day too and again, I’m so lucky I did. Some days he’s the only thing I have to look forward to, but one reason is enough. He’s always been more than enough.

So now that I’m once again in pain and having a panic attack over the loss of a friend and someone I loved completely, I realize that having those anchors is vital. Whatever it is for you, hold on to it for dear life. There really will be something you’ll be glad you didn’t miss.

Blankety Blank

 

It’s a little weird to have no more questions to answer at the end of the blogging challenge. I can say that it’s been a bit odd not having the daily post to do.

I thought that I was on a roll and decided, like every year, to sign up for National Novel Writing Month. I had a couple of overlap days which was a little much, but I was both excited to jump in but worn out at the same time.  Then there was a crash. A few things unraveled. My car broke down, I got sick, and…I couldn’t write.

Seriously. Crash-o-rama…

In the midst of chores I started feeling crappy and…bam! Fever. Aches. Being stuck on the couch and most of all, no word count. One day turned to four and I had nothing behind the eyes but a massive headache.

I’ve never tanked the contest before and I’m still feeling kind of bad about it. I’ve been, to be honest, feeling a little depressed and cursed with bad luck. Out of nowhere, I saw another 30 day test of dedication. A random diet page I follow came up with 30 days of gratitude! Instantly that was a real challenge. I’m without wheels, missing appointments, miserably sick, isolated, and to top it all off, facing complete apathy from my Doubtful Guest (the boyfriend).

Of course I know I’m supposed to be grateful. I know it! But faced with it as a 30 day challenge I had to remember than knowing something and practicing it are far removed. Obviously, the problems tend to stick out and occupy your mind, especially when your mind feels like it’s getting ready to make a break from your skull towards the cat door.  So, today I’m thankful that I have something to write about and for the fact that there are suddenly people reading it (Thank You!). I’m thankful for everyone’s kind comments and for the opportunity to be completely me (as off as I can be). I always seem to forget that for things to get better, you have to focus on the things you want, not the problems.  I’m done circling the drain, as my bestie’s mom says.

I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I might be up for a Life of Brian sing-a-long instead of ruminating on the issues to be solved. (ok, yes, I may actually like show tunes after all!)   A rousing round of “Don’t Rain on My Parade” might scare people I know, but a little enthusiasm may yield better results.

Day 20 – Shock and Awe

Describe your most difficult breakup and what you learned from it.

This has been one I’ve avoided all day. It’s still painful to revisit even after all these years, probably because we remain in each others’ lives. We share a son, we are still friends, but the breakup itself was one of the most devastating times of my life. I’m referring here to the breakup of my marriage.

We were married five years when my husband decided to leave. We married way too young. He was 19, I was 23. We had such high hopes but as these things go, it was just too much too fast for him. I thought that everything was fine. He ended up telling me some ridiculous story to explain his decision which I tried so hard to believe because it was easier than seeing the truth. The weeks leading up to his leaving were the most painful of my life. It killed my heart in a way that I’ve never come back from. I helped him move out and cried every second of it. He finally walked away on the 4th of July, which is probably why to this day I can’t stand the holiday.

Shortly after he left, and he left as far as a person could leave, in the midst of my grief I began to get sick. I was crying all the time and couldn’t cope. I had my first serious panic attack symptoms during that time, but the nausea never quit. It wasn’t long before I realized that the man who just left was about to be a father and I had no way to tell him. It was the worst time of my life. I had done all of the divorce paperwork myself before I realized my condition. He wasn’t coming back. I was alone, pregnant and shortly to be jobless as well as our company was downsizing the department. My whole life fell apart in a few short months.

Since, of course, I managed to get in touch with my ex again.  He stayed in touch and checked on me, he was there when our son was born, he visits often still. We developed a friendship mainly because of my belief that the kid deserved parents that got along, not that hate each other. I had a lot to forgive, but my son was worth it. Still, things never felt truly over. Some days they still don’t. It took me years to get over this experience. I’m still smarting from some of the effects but I did learn a hell of a lot about myself.

One thing is that I’m stronger than I realized. We all are, every one of us. Yes, I have my anxiety and depression to contend with which adds some extra flavor to the struggle, but I managed to survive a devastating breakup and a solo pregnancy at the same time. I somehow picked myself up off the floor and rebuilt a life for my boy and I, one Lego at a time.

Another is that letting go is crucial. I can’t tell you how many years I spent waiting for him to come to his senses and come back, even after everything that happened. I stewed in my grief until I was so overcooked a cat wouldn’t touch me. If I had loved myself enough, I could have let go and moved on for me.

That last one is probably the most important. It just keeps coming up doesn’t it? Maybe I should listen! I’m still working on it. I didn’t like myself much. I didn’t treat myself well or with respect, so why on earth would anyone else? I was a squishy pink thing crying on the floor. With that departure my self-worth plummeted. I blamed myself, figured I wasn’t enough; that no one could ever love me. It’s easy to wallow and obsess in loneliness. I’ve learned, finally…finally how important it is to put yourself and your life goals first. I gave up so much of myself and stopped so much of what I loved in that relationship so in the end it was a good thing that it ended. It never feels like it at the time, but I had lost myself and if you lose you, you truly do lose everything.

Crazy, That’s How It Goes

When I started to blog, it was a diary of sorts. I named it Tangent off the Lifeline because I believed that I was taking a step towards a complete and utter change from my automatic, reactionary life into something completely different. I had no idea how right I was.

Of course, what I intended was a complete life makeover in the image of the dreams I had in my head, paved with strong intentions, affirmations, meditation and a daily dose of the guru blogs that had me enthralled for so long.

Then, reality happened.

I was hit square in the face with it. I can’t recall what I was looking up, advice on this or that. I was feeling weird and down a lot and my anxiety was rising to levels I hadn’t seen in some time and I found solace in a special put on about Bipolar Disorder called “The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive” hosted by Stephen Fry; one of the people I admire and always listen to whenever he speaks. That led down a strange path of self discovery, wondering if I had a mood disorder, if I was just tired, who I was, what I believed in. I ended up falling upon a debate with him and a striking figure by the name of Christopher Hitchens. My life took a dramatic turn off the main highway and far from the one I had so carefully mapped  in my head. I watched debate after debate and heard words spoken that I’d only ever previously kept to myself; questions I’ve asked in the secret unseen parts of my soul, if there is such a thing. It changed everything. And then the crash happened.

My health took a dramatic turn. A new injury to my previously injured spine caused pain and numbness which caused my already high anxiety to spike to unseen heights. Then  digestive troubles added on, stress headaches, worry, irritability, loss of interest and eneergy and then the inevitable…I had what is commonly referred to as a nervous breakdown. It’s not the sort of thing one admits in public, and hell, most of the people I know don’t fully know the extent of what happened to me, just that I’ve had a nerve problem. The diagnosis came after a bad weekend where I was unable to get up off the floor and unable to stop crying, feeling somehow out of my body and unable to breathe. I had hallucinations and every nerve felt like it was being strummed like the strings on Tiny Tim’s ukulele. I had to take a week off for “health reasons” and had to try to explain to my employers my situation. Severe Panic Disorder and Major Depression were the labels. So much for my meditative guru lifestyle. I had to accept that I wouldn’t be guest blogging for The Daily Love anytime soon. In fact, writing has been out of the question, my mind blank in sometimes near catatonic states and my focus in the trash bin.

No one was surprised when I decided to just come out with it. Everyone had seen it coming but me. My refusal to take care of myself before my other responsibilities, my empathetic nature, my inability to leave things at the door when I went home, and a lot of negative thinking brought me to where I am now; trying to slowly and deliberately get better. It’s ironic in a way. One of my fears has always been, from the time I was a child, being locked up in an asylum or losing my mind. While I’m not considered psychotic by any means, I don’t quite make it to healthy. I just came in after looking at a startling array of pills lined up on the counter, the latest of which makes me sick and groggy. Another one bites the dust, but it’s a beginning. I plan on making it to my destination, but I think there might just be a slight detour; a breaking down and a rebuilding that needed to happen but that I definitely didn’t see coming.