Falling Apart & Beginning Again: Jess' Story

Today I've decided to share a bit about my story.  

You may find it interesting or entirely purposeless :) either of which is okay, but I thought it might be useful for giving you an idea of context when reading my blog. 

I'll start when adulthood sort of did...  The first two years out of high school weren't that exciting for me.  I finished school at 16, when the usual age for graduating high school in Australia is around 18, because I was skipped a grade after being told I had a high IQ.  I have my doubts about this!

Aside from a retail job and a hospitality job during school, my first "real" job as an adult was a youth worker position.  This 25 hour per week job had very little support, and I did it while I tried to simultaneously pull off a full-time study workload at University.  I ended up just doing a second-rate job of both tasks and didn't find much fulfillment.  

I also enjoyed a little bit of travel and had a couple of healthy relationships.  I sometimes got the sads, which affected one exam period at worst, but life was alright.

Then at eighteen I entered an industry in which I would spend the next six years of my life and where I would meet some of the best and worst people I've ever known.  I worked full-time in very intense and stressful environments during which I experienced upwards of half a dozen instances of workplace bullying.  (Of course, I am now better able to acknowledge my role in these situations, and no doubt those people were influenced by their own distress in our ridiculously high-pressured industry, but it truly was horrible for me and some people were just jerks... Perhaps a topic for a future post!)  

I also spent most of these years in and out of an extremely traumatic relationship with someone who was twice my age and newly divorced.  They and their ex-wife worked in the same industry as me.  Everyone knew and had to work with each other despite hatred and tension.  It was unpleasant, to say the least.

Throughout these years there was not a single day that my work tasks were limited to working hours.  There was a constant expectation to attend events and socialise with colleagues out-of-hours, which was made all the more unpleasant by the goings-on of my emotional life.  And socially it wasn't that great either - there were complex networks of who liked who, who hated who, and who was undermining who just for the heck of it.  Even my recreational reading time needed to include media and literature relating to work.  I was passionate about the cause and willing to work hard, but geez!  Years of this stuff wears you down.  On top of this, all of the actions and choices in your personal life reflected directly on your career. 

I should also point out that there were some great aspects to the jobs I worked in and that I was very privileged to have had some of the support and opportunities I did.  In amongst the hard times there were some people who were great to me and there was some very cool stuff I loved doing.  I really believed, and still do believe, in the cause behind my work, and I wouldn't change that for the world.

But it was still killing me.  So, why didn't I change anything?  Why did I stay?  And why did I lock myself into a lifestyle that was clearly making me unhappy?

I'm not one of those people who is particularly wrapped up in money or appearances.  I never pay for designer labels and I'd seriously rather shop at K-Mart.  But I locked myself into a cycle of expectations where I had to keep earning money and then keep earning more.  Once you sign a rental lease, you pay that for a year.  Once you've rented one place, you want to rent a nicer one.  Once you have your own place, you pay bills.  And once you are sitting alone in your own place with all bills paid, you eventually get bored or lonely, so you go out with friends or do some activity to keep your mood up.  (Especially when you're always feeling the blues!)  

I also did all this because I just thought I had to, because it was what adults did.  Adults have their own place, buy furniture and groceries, drive their car, go to dinners, work their jobs, get promoted, get new jobs... meanwhile, my mental health kept deteriorating.  I couldn't understand why I was feeling worse and worse despite doing all the "right" things with my life.

I really was trying hard to improve things for myself.  I would complete an extra university subject or make a new friend or try to find hobbies and projects I could volunteer in.  There were even a couple more overseas trips with family and friends.  But my condition kept going downhill.  I began to dream about just throwing it all in and running away to join the circus.  As time wore on, I dreamt about doing worse things.

 

[ TRIGGER WARNING APPLIES ]

And do worse things I would!  Sometimes I was just sad, and I would fill my time with sleep or food to escape.  Sometimes the emotions were stronger.  Emergency rooms and ambulance rides became a nauseating blur.  So many times I fought off the panic of oncoming pain with drugs and alcohol.  If I really couldn't even bear the minutes it would take for those to kick in, I would resort to self-harming - cutting, scratching, burning, hitting.

I've poured boiling water on myself.  I've torn my flesh off in chunks.  I've smashed my forehead onto cement walls.  I know that there are others who have no doubt experienced worse than me, but I can tell you that within myself I went over some cliffs.  Whatever I could do to fight off the surge of emotional pain that was coming, I would do it.  And sometimes the emotions were just a never-ending dull ache that made me choose not to put my seat-belt on when I was driving or be pretty careless about looking before I crossed roads.  I would imagine my funeral or the actual process of dying just to soothe myself a bit that there was an ending available.  In general, it was safe to say I spent upwards of 80% of my life wishing not just for death but for respite from my feelings.

[ END TRIGGER WARNING ]

By the time 2012 rolled around and my family had caught on to all of this, I found myself hospitalised and on four different psychiatric medications.  Something had to give.  Eventually, it all did.  The ridiculously dysfunctional relationship finally began to cave in for good.  (Though, he only ever truly left me alone when he found a new half-his-age partner.  Make of that what you will.)  I couldn't handle being bullied at work each day by my line manager and gave my notice of resignation.  I opted not to renew my lease, sold my furniture instead, and told everyone I was leaving to go travelling overseas.  I didn't know what I was going to do, but I just had to get away.

I was alone in Amsterdam when the nervous breakdown hit.  Hard.  I ditched the rest of my travel plans and came home to a serious psychiatric hospital stay and more medication and even more therapy.

I'd quit my job and relationship.  All my things were sold or packed up.  I had almost no friends left.  (My social circle had become entirely full of work relationships and pretty much no one was interested in me once I quit my job - like I said, they weren't the nicest of people.) 

It feels like a doomed airplane was careening and breaking apart through storm after storm for so many years, as I desperately taped its wings together and pumped the fuel lines and wrestled the yoke, like some maniacal pilot... when what I really needed was for the whole mess to finally plummet into the sea.  Now I'm sitting on a life raft, alone, at last able to tend to my wounds, and rest.  I'm bobbing along in this deafeningly quiet stillness.  You get the metaphor.  It's over.

And it's a new year, I've had a break and a lot of treatment, and I'm officially "stable" according to three doctors.  So does this mean I'm almost Recovered?  HAHAHA!  No, wow, not even remotely close.  What I am is (finally) Beginning to Recover. 

Or, more accurately, I will be in a process of "Returning to Work/Study" for some years to come - which is an Australian concept of only having one job or course of study at a time, and only doing this on reduced duties, while incrementally returning to a full-time capacity, under the supervision of treating doctors.  This means I can do things, but they will need to be balanced with medication and therapy for a long time.

I've chosen to move to a bigger city and go back to University.  I'd like to study so that I can enter a new industry, and because I truly enjoy it.  I also think a new city is going to give me the space I need from old friends and old habits.  I'm still keeping some of the support with me though, as my best friend and her lovely sister are also moving at the same time.  (Plus the city is super cool and much bigger than my boring old home town.)  My family have even agreed to help me out with financial support and ensure that I'm returning home very frequently for stability.  This all fits in with my doctors' plans, so it's looking good.

In finishing my story, here are some lessons I have taken from my years of misspent youth which I implore you to consider lest you ever find yourself in the same place I was in...

A job is a huge part of your life, and any problems at work should be taken seriously.  How you are treated and whether you have a healthy work-life balance are especially important.  Report instances of bullying or harassment.  Talk to your boss about fair expectations from you as an employee.  And if you just don't enjoy your job, keep looking around for others until you find a better fit.

Try not to get stuck in one mindset and never cut off your own options.  All the cliches are true, the world truly is full of limitless possibilities and if you want to wake up tomorrow and do something completely different, DO IT.  

Screw the norm.  You don't need a big house, car, or impressive-sounding job, to be truly happy.  In fact, you can have all these things and be very unhappy.  Believe me!  What really matters is family, friends, and doing what you love.  The rest is negotiable.

Never sell yourself short because you really do deserve every good thing in life.  You deserve happiness.  You deserve a vocation that you love.  You deserve happy and healthy relationships.  Even if you have some crazy dream job or lofty ambition, give it a go!  You'll never regret the immense love and respect you show for yourself when you seek to achieve your goals.

If I could speak to my seventeen year old self, they are the things I would tell her.  Instead I have written a long and boring blog post to you!  If you have managed to read it, please know I am sending you a genuine and heartfelt thank you for doing so. 

P.S.  Of course, I should say that my mental illness likely required a genetic predisposition and would have involved contributions from other traumas in my life.  But, would I have ever reached such a severe point of crisis had I spent those years in a normal workplace and normal relationship where I was not prevented from living a healthy life?  No.  Never.  (Again, I'm an adult, and I am responsible for my choices.  But seriously, I encountered some messed up people and was put in some extremely distressing situations.  TO THE MAX.  If I ever write a book it'll be titled "Crap After Crap TO THE MAX" and no one should read it.)

P.P.S.  If I can somehow keep myself intact despite many attempts to achieve the opposite, I truly believe that other people going through mental health challenges can get there too. 

The Up-Sides Of Mental Illness: Compassion

Recently, a friend shared with me a practice he's been using at the end of each day to boost his confidence, mood and sense of self.  Interestingly, this friend is of good mental health, but still finds it necessary to work on "improving moments" from time to time.

The technique is something most of us have probably heard of in one form or another.  It's to list three things at the end of each day that you are grateful for.

I initially didn't think much of this, until I actually gave it a go.  It's really helpful. 

Some days, even if it's been a really bad day, I am still grateful for something as simple as sanitation.  If this sounds like it's not that big a deal to you, then I am almost certain you have never been to China - believe me, when that pork dumpling platter started to go south on me, and there was nothing but a hole in the ground behind the restaurant where kids were playing... Well, you can take my word for it, access to a sanitation system is a blessing.

I've decided I'm going to use this more often, to get in the habit of changing my perspective on things to see all the angles.

So, I'm starting a series of posts about the positives of having mental illness.

Lately I've noticed that my own mental health struggles have allowed me to be much more compassionate to others experiencing the same.  This seems obvious, but it pops up in places I wouldn't expect.  

Today, when I was stopping by the shops to pick up some groceries, a man was being arrested in the car park and was causing quite the kerfuffle.  

It took four police officers to hold him down, and two more to keep pedestrians away and prepare the police van to transport him.  He was screaming and shouting that these weren't police officers, but were secret police, that had poisoned his water.  Most people were standing around rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

But my first thought was that the guy probably suffered from mental illness, and that if he had a choice, I was sure he wouldn't want to be in the situation he was in.

I can guarantee that a few years ago, before becoming mentally unwell myself, there is no way I would even have considered that.  I still probably wouldn't have been as judgmental as the people standing around, but it wouldn't have immediately occurred to me how involuntary his predicament was.

In all honesty, I can say that I appreciate being able to access this compassion and understanding for anyone who is let down by their brain in the same way that I have been.  

This isn't to say that I'm Jesus or anything, but I think it actually feels better to experience the emotion of compassion rather than emotions like judgment or disgust.

Past Hurts

Today's post, "Do You Deserve Happiness?" by Debbie at Healing From BPD really brought up some big, unexpected realisations for me.

She has written about how many of us with BPD respond to positive experiences in our life with hesitancy, trepidation and suspicion. We have often experienced traumatic events in our past that colour how we see our present and future. We struggle with trusting people and ourselves, and do not believe that we are worthy of good things.

Reading this post really surprised me. I already knew that when good things happen to me, I spend most of the time telling myself that it's only temporary, and miss out on enjoying positive feelings. I just thought of this as being overly protective of myself, and on guard.

But when I stopped to really think about it - I realised there is a lot more going on beneath the surface for me. I am actually telling myself things like:

• "This is going to end or turn out to have been false, like everything."
• "You will ruin this, like you always do, because you are an incompetent failure."
• "Someone you love will ruin this because they hate you and never really loved you back and want to see you suffer."

Whoa. Turns out there's a bit more going on in my head than just mild suspicion.

I am actually telling myself some really toxic things. A lot of it stems from some very traumatic times I had in a past romantic relationship. There might be some of it that comes from another place, but I'm not sure.

Clearly I have some issues to think about for myself. I might need to start by turning my mind to enjoying positive experiences.

This is especially important because it doesn't make sense for me to stop myself from enjoying things like friends, family and personal time because of past trauma in a relationship. It is not even relevant to the present experiences I'm having.

There are also some self-esteem issues that I'll look at, in terms of expecting myself to fail.

Once again, I am deeply grateful for Debbie's blog. And once again, I have lots of work to do!

Coming Out

Recently on Twitter I mentioned that I had been "coming out" to some people in my life about my BPD diagnosis. I've also started using my real name - Jess! - on Twitter and now on here for my blog posts.

This has been inspired, like so many aspects of my journey towards recovery have, by Debbie at Healing From BPD.

Reactions have varied, but whatever they have been, the first few minutes seem to be irrelevant as the person is usually just processing everything during this time. You need to explain it and give them a few moments to comprehend before you get the full measure of understanding and empathy that most people will offer.

In fact, so far there haven't been any "bad" reactions, just different ones. Anything from total surprise, to curiosity, to condolences. Interestingly though, a very common response has been the person then telling me about a loved one who also suffers from mental illness.

I have been genuinely taken aback by how many people already know someone they care about that struggles with mental health.

This shouldn't be surprising, as in Australia statistics are that 1 in 5 people will face a mental health challenge in any given year.

I believe that the more we are open and honest about the challenges we face, the easier we make it for other people who are facing similar challenges. Even for those who may never suffer from mental illness, statistics guarantee they will interact with people who do, and learning about one person can inform their caring and sensitivity towards another.

I also believe that there are benefits in naming a part of you and owning it for the world to see. There should not have to be any shame in suffering from mental illness, any more than there would be for having a heart condition or blood disorder.

Understandably, this doesn't mean anyone should have to shout their diagnosis from the rooftops, walk around in a t-shirt saying "ASK ME ABOUT MY BPD!!!" or begin every conversation they have with a disclosure of their mental health. I have chosen carefully who I am choosing to open up to and in what context. And if someone is just not up to talking about their mental health, then that is just fine too. Everyone is at a different point in their journey.

But no one with a mental illness has chosen to have that illness. We should all be proud of ourselves and the path we are traveling, because it is just a part of life that none of us are perfect. (Except you, dear reader!)

Am I Scared Of Getting Better?

Now that I am discharged as an outpatient and living at home with my folks while I work on my recovery, we are looking at my options for next year.

However, any time I think about recovering and the bigger picture, like future plans, I feel overwhelmed and extremely anxious. I think I'm scared of relapsing worse than previously. At every stage of my illness I have truly thought that it was rock bottom, and every time I have thought this there has always been further to fall later on.

One year ago I was living independently alone, working full-time in an Executive level job, seeing friends not often but when I could, paying bills, driving my car, flying interstate for work or for leisure, planning my round-the-world trip... Just generally keeping things roughly together.

Now my main activity for the day can be something like beading a necklace. And even this can be a challenge - to physically bring myself to outpatient therapy, to ride fluctuations in my moods, to deal with the social anxiety that comes with leaving my room.

I feel like I have lost so much ground, that I don't want to regain it and feel the loss of losing it again. Thinking about this, I have two strategies for tackling my fears. 

1. Opposite Action. This is meant to be used whenever the fear of something is not useful or proportional to the threat. For example, I shouldn't be scared of feeling better, because this is a good thing that I will find enjoyable. So I am trying to chose the actions that a non-scaredy-cat would chose. Today I looked online at rental properties just to get an idea of costs and locations.

2. Achievable Goals.  Breaking things down into achievable parts is useful and realistic. No one is expecting me to wake up one morning and miraculously recover from mental illness. I don't have to immediately fix my life overnight. In fact, this isn't possible. Recovery is done in bits and pieces over time.

It's ok to not be perfect and to go backwards as well as forwards. I also won't morph into a younger version of myself and be back in the middle of a previous crisis, because that isn't possible - the experience that I've gained can't be lost or taken away.

So while my future might not be Easy Street, and there will be ups and downs, I know that this is normal for everyone - even people without mental illness - and that the experiences I've already had will help me deal with things better as they come.

Doing My Homework

Recently, Debbie at Healing From BPD posted the DBT Emotion Regulation Worksheet 1A and encouraged us to consider using it in times of intense emotions.

I have just taken this advice and have found it extremely helpful, as with all aspects of DBT! 

It has allowed me to think a bit more clearly about what is going on in my head when I re-experience traumatic events in my mind. I hope that over time I will become stronger in dealing with this.

For now, here is my "homework" below. I hope to use this worksheet more often.

Emotion Names:

Hurt, Sadness, Anger, Abandonment, Panic, Anxious

Intensity:

75

Prompting Event:

Reading my journal from a time of distress in a previous relationship.

--- TRIGGER WARNING ---

Interpretations:

No one will ever want to be in a relationship with me, I am worthless. My ex-partner has moved on and is extremely happy. I will never feel this way and will be stuck living in the past painfully forever.

Body Changes and Sensing:

Tight chest, sick in the stomach, mild headache, lump in throat.

Body Language:

Frowning, tensed.

Action Urges:

Contact him to beg him to understand the pain he caused me and still causes me. Hurt myself by cutting/scratching my leg to distract me.

--- END TRIGGER WARNING ---

What I Said or Did:

Filled out this sheet. Tried to Radically Accept my emotions without suppressing or blocking them as this can only make them worse. Mindfully listened to crickets chirping outside.

After Effect of Emotions:

Emotions eventually eased, still felt waves of anxiety and hurt from time to time.

Function of Emotion:

These emotions are trying to tell me that I was treated badly by someone who did not love me and that I need to look after myself because I am still recovering. For me, painful and invalidating relationships should be ended as they are unhealthy and unsustainable.

Who Am I? No, Seriously.

Today I am thinking about the diagnostic criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder that relates to Identity Disturbance:

   "3. Identity Disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self."

I spent my two hour day leave from hospital today shopping with my Mum. Shopping is one of my favourite activities, but one that I have to be careful with to make sure I don't become overly impulsive about purchases (impulsiveness - another BPD criteria!) and to make sure that I don't spend more than I have.

However, while I was shopping today I kept noticing little internal struggles about which item looked like my "style" or what sort of "look" to go for. I began to feel really confused to the point of being overwhelmed. 

I realised that I honestly feel I have no defined sense of style for myself. 

I also realised that I am far more likely to feel confused about this if I see examples of other young women who do have a very strong sense of their own "look". 

In this case, last night I was catching up with an old school friend on Facebook, and saw lots of great photos of them and their band. I was simultaneously really glad for her and her career taking off, while depressed that I don't have a similar lifestyle for myself. 

So today when I was wandering through stores, I found myself trying to emulate certain aspects of this friend's style, and feeling even more confused about what I like or don't like as a result.

I have often felt this confusion in regard to many things: hobbies, interests, career, friends, music.

I can remember as a kid waking up one day and wanting to play the violin, convinced this was going to be my new thing, only to lose all interest two weeks and one lesson later. (I also remember my Dad driving two hours to a stockist to purchase the specific violin I wanted, and then of course having to drive there again to return it! My Dad is very lovely.)

This unstable sense of self is apparently classic BPD, and is also why we are sometimes known as "chameleons" for being so ready to alter ourselves.

I am not sure how to tackle this. I know I want to understand myself better, and then be assertive about who I am as well as pursue what I want. I think this is tied in with having better self-esteem as well.

I have started by writing a list of things I am absolutely certain are true about me. I only have a few items on there so far, but I add to it when things come up.

From time to time, I might get some help with this too, when a friend or family member will make an observation about me. For example, "Of course you don't like action films!" I guess I know I don't, but I can be surprised when I'm reminded of some things.

Other than this, perhaps it will all just have to be worked on through experience.. And maybe some more shopping.

Glitter Jars!

If you haven't already seen this via sites like Tumblr, Glitter Jars (also known as Calm Jars) are a great craft idea for anyone looking for a soothing activity.

When you shake the jar, it's basically just very pretty.  It's an easy form of form of Distraction as part of Distress Tolerance skills, as well as a way to Self-Soothe. Double win :)

I have also heard of them used in place of self-harm, with the idea being that if you feel the urge to do so you shake the jar and commit to yourself that you won't take any action until all the glitter has settled, then repeat as necessary.

There are lots of different versions of instructions but here is my summary...

You will need:

• Clear jar with tight sealing lid
• Glitter, 3 - 6 tablespoons (depending on jar size)
• Clear gel glue or clear craft glue,  approx 1 tablespoon per cup of water in jar
• Hot or boiling water
• Fork or anything pointy that can get messy (for stiring)
• Food colour/dye

Add the glitter and glue to the empty jar. Fill half-way with hot water. Stir, stir, stir! When it is a totally even mixture, fill the remainder of the jar with cool water and add food colouring if you want. Glue lid shut. Allow to dry before testing.

If I'd give any extra advice, it would be to use a few different sizes of glitter, so that when the smaller pieces settle slower than the large pieces you end up with pretty layering. Also, possibly prepare to have a few attempts at this, as I know I needed to!

And lastly, be careful when opening glitter packets :(

Recovery

--- TRIGGER WARNING APPLIES ---

I found this image while browsing the web, and it just really struck me as how recovery feels.

Recovery isn't this gradual steady climb up a hill with guaranteed timelines of improvement until you're standing at the top saying "phew, glad that's over!"

To me, at least, recovery is ups and downs and relapse after relapse. It's like being lost in a fog and feeling so defeated at the end of each day you can't imagine starting again the next morning. But somehow there are some changes that do occur - but it's never what you plan, it's never easy, it's never logical... It sucks, basically.

And always, always, the road before you looks impossible and terrifying.

Image credit: "Til the End of Days" by Javier de la Torre