Archive for 2013

Un-Resolute

Posted December 31, 2013 By kmarrs

BPD and New Year ResolutionsI don’t do resolutions, but I guess I still have goals for the coming year.  Call them what you will.

  1. Read an average of a book a week ending the year at 52 books read.
  2. Read the entire Bible in full
  3. Write two blog posts a week ending the year at 104 posts written
  4. Keep my 4.0 GPA
  5. Have my financial situation  settled whether disability or having to find a job
  6. Make this year better than the one before it
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Patrick the Grey

Posted December 23, 2013 By kmarrs

BPD and Marriage Borderline

This has some controversy.  I told my mom about this and it felt like she was ready to disown me.  I think she is settling into it some.  All I can ask her for is support, if not understanding.  She doesn’t have to agree.

Neither do you.

With BPD comes black and white thinking.  You know this, yes?  Everything thing and person of importance is either white (good, without flaw) or black (evil, there is no good).  Things can start as one and become the other.  Things can bounce back and forward.  But seeing something as grey is nearly impossible.  We just have trouble reconciling that really good people make mistakes and no one is perfect, for example.  We are, all of us, flawed.

Patrick is my only grey.

But there is something exciting about those new white knights.  They show up on their gallant steeds.  They’re nice to me, flirt with me, make me want to let them make me happy.  The excitement of new love blinding me to my Grey Knight, my one truest love.

Pat and I have a lot of issues.  We’ve worked through many of them and with some counseling we’ll find and then work through the rest.  In a world where things are black and white, I need the stability of my grey.  The person whom never judges me, never tires of me, never loses patience with me, loves me for who I am, and really sees me.

The biggest threat from him is the threat to leave.  This has been hashed out.

The biggest threat from me is my white knights.  This too has been hashed out.

Right now we’ll continue to live apart.  I need my space to sort shit out, as does he.  I have some soul-searching to do.  I’m still on the journey of self discovery, and right now I still need to do that without his help.

When the time comes to leave my current home, I’ll leave it for his.  We will live as husband and wife and we’ll be happy with it.

We’ll also be open.

I won’t search for white knights, I don’t feel that need, but when one swoops in I’ll let them be in my life.  No one can swoop me away from my Grey Knight, but my Grey Knight can’t offer me the feeling of new and exciting.  My Grey Knight can’t be a new toy, though I hate that term, it helps lay out the picture.

At the end of the night, my husband will be the one I return to.  He is the love of my life.  But I will date here and there.

I’m capable of being in a closed marriage.  But I’m also capable of the BPD taking over and causing strife as I resent my husband for trapping me.  The new toy calls out to me and it promises to free me from where I’m not happy, my BPD twists the situation.

This change allows for increased stability.

And I’m not the only one benefiting from it.  He has a special someone.  I trust them together.  And I see what she does for him, that I can’t.

A friend will come pick me up, is all my kids will see.  Nothing ever in front of them.  Or I’ll go out to hang out with a friend, the kids will see.  Discretion will be key.  Should they find out, they will be taught love comes in many forms and with many possible requirements and how to have an open mind.

But in a world where they would have to choose between mommy and daddy living together but mommy having special friends, or mommy and daddy living apart…  The house will be run with love and by happy parents.

The world should learn to judge not for they too can be judged.

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How To Deal With Someone With Depression

Posted December 18, 2013 By kmarrs

depression Borderline Personality Disorder BPD Bipolar

depression Borderline Personality Disorder BPD BipolarThere truly is a great info in this article.  I give no argument to that.  However I have one simply request:  If you are here it is a fair guess to say you have Borderline Personality Disorder.  Or maybe a loved on has it.  If that is the case, please take some time and look around this site.  This blog is filled with great information for those with BPD and those who love them.  It is my honor to have you here and I hope you enjoy your stay, whether it be 5 minutes or you come back day after day.

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HELP

Posted December 13, 2013 By kmarrs

Borderline Personality DIsorder and Trouble with FinancesYeah.  Sorry.  Here is the thing:

Some of you are planning last-minute holiday orders via Amazon.

Are you one of those people?  Can you maybe place your order by entering their site using the link to the right?  Has this moved down the page some?  Ok, scroll up to the top of the page, you’ll see it.  You can’t miss it.

You: Get to place the order you were placing anyways.

I: Get a little something in my pocket, for sending you to amazon, to help me with this whole being unemployed.

 

Thanks!

 

Erm…

You’ll also find a donate button top left.

 

Thanks?

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Life Decisions

Posted December 13, 2013 By kmarrs

Fibromyalgia and mental healthWith my mental health slipping away, and my fine motor skills leaving much to be desired, I’m left wondering how much longer I can continue to get through the day-to-day, all while pretending that I’m fully functioning.

There is an old saying that a person only has so many spoonfulls of energy.  From this, the modern-day sufferers of invisible illnesses have coined the term “Spoonies”.  The idea is that everything we do takes a certain number of spoons and every day we are only given so many spoons to get us through that day.  Some days getting out of bed, showered, and dressed for the day might only take a single spoon.  Other days it might take 3 or 4.  I, personally, have both my BPD ( and its collection of friends) as well as fibro contributing to my spoon usage.  On days where my fibro is bad and giving my feet issues, it might take an entire spoon just to get shoes on my feet.  Another couple to keep them there.

For almost two years it took maybe 4 spoons to get through an 8 hour work day.  Lately, it’s been taking more like 12-16.  That’s more spoons than I have total.  What it takes mentally to sound and appear chipper, when my insides are crumbling and horrific, takes all my energy.  All my spoons.  And some days, I can’t make it to the end of the day before it shows that I am all out spoons.

I finally had to stop and ask myself if maybe it wasn’t time to stop and look for a new line of work.  My ability to perform at my best in my current job was compromised and I was becoming a liability.  I finally decided that maybe I’d be better off leaving the work force altogether for a while and filing disability.  It’s something I had hoped to never have to do, but at this point it will allow me to focus on my health.

It will also let me focus all my spoons, minus what I give to my family, on my education.  I have lofty education goals.  Even full-time everything I’m hoping to accomplish will take 10-15 years.  It comes down to: How old do I want to be when I graduate?  Do I want to have time to pay off my loans and use my degrees after graduation or do I wish to graduate as I retire?

You all have seen the back and forward of the school drama over the years.  You (should) know by now I’m a straight A student accomplishing nearly perfect grades, but that I got off to a rocky start after dropping some classes.  More than once.  Young and dumb.  I’ve since gotten my fresh start at Franklin University and am back at my straight A’s with a near perfect in most cases.  This tells me that I really can do this.  The only thing holding me back is, well, ME!

No.

More.

I’m currently working on my Bachelor’s in Business Administration, minoring in Business Economics because they go well enough together and can be finished within my electives.  Besides, Business Economics sounds fascinating.  Sorry, I’m one of those students.  Remember when I almost majored in math?  Yeah, still pissed Business doesn’t require calculus.  After my Bachelor’s I’m going for my Master’s in Business Administration and then my Master’s in Business Psychology.  Finally, because this is one I want more than the rest, I’m going for my Doctorate in Psychology.

What will I do with all that?  So glad you asked!  For starters, all of that is helpful in the business world, including banking.  But it can also be amazingly helpful should I decide to open my own private practice.

Then someday, when my student loans are paid off, I have a 401K and pension built, and I’m ready to retire, I can spend my time volunteering my time.  So many out there are disabled and in need of proper help.  How many of them, with just a little affordable (greatly reduced or even free) help would be able to reenter the work force and really contribute to society and their own personal lives and self worth?

I’m about to spend 10-15 years on disability and probably welfare.

Then I’m going to spend the rest of my life paying all that back in actual money but most importantly, in my time.  Because I can.

Or, at least, I’ll be able to.

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BPD Borderline Personality Disorder and LossThis year…  To say I have lost is such an understatement that it’s almost laughable.  Or would be if I wasn’t spending my free time curled up into a tiny, tiny ball crying and raging.  I assure you I’m not laughing through my tears.

Some of this loss has been by choice  but too much of it has been by force which is, I suppose, how loss typically happens.

It might as well have been by gun point that my aunt was taken from us a couple of weeks ago.  We learned of the cancer prognosis about a month before she was taken.  No one really saw the prognosis coming and we were given just enough time between prognosis and passing to realize there was no preventing it.  Cancer, is an asshole.  But, I suppose we know that.  Knew that.

The “loss” of my best friend of 12 years in the opening months of this year was of my free will.  It was a conscious decision that I made on the spot but that I’d been building up to over the months prior.  And while her character was never much of a secret, I was made privy to its true nature over the last couple months.

You (she) will never, ever read this but I would like to say now what I couldn’t say as your relationship with my estranged husband came to an end:  I’m so very truly sorry that the timing of my mental break down was so inconvenient to you and your desire to throw your beliefs aside and get laid.  Because really, my mental break down really has been inconvenient to us all.  I suppose you’ll have to go and find another fuck buddy.  If you need help finding one, may I suggest the depths of hell where your selfish, inconsiderate, whoring soul belongs.  You’ll find your people there.  And they won’t care how truly hateful and negative your depraved existence is, inside and out.

Bitch.

Maybe we won’t add that friendship to the loss category after all.  We shall call it my escape.

The other friendship loss also wasn’t much surprise.  They say some people enter your life and are meant to stay there until the end.  Some come into your life and their role is brief.  Maybe it’s only meant to last a few weeks.  Maybe a few months.  A few years.  Or, in the scheme of life, even a decade or two might be considered brief.

N, as I shall call him out of a true respect for his desire to remain unknown to this world as a whole, I thought was meant to be a life long friend.  I still hurt over the loss of what I thought it would be.  But through my tears of the loss of a friend, I do see the role he played.  He was my secret keeper and companion in the days leading up to and following the end of my marriage.  And while he and I were only ever friends and never would have been more, I was able to examine who he was and my response to him and start to see glimpses of what it is I seek in a romantic companion.

The list is much longer than what I will say here, but for a starter, I will never, ever again find myself in a relationship with someone who doesn’t read.  My joy in sharing books with N and him sharing books with me… Him handing my books that weren’t about, “You’ve read such and such so you might enjoy this,” but was instead, “I really enjoyed this book and I’m excited to share it with someone who reads,” was, I think, one of my (many) favorite things about that friendship.

The idea of being able to add a romantic aspect to that, with someone else of course, is something I will no longer settle over.  I look forward to the day I find myself in bed with someone, sitting side-by-side reading our respective books.  Maybe we’ll even be reading the same thing so we can talk about it as we go, careful to avoid spoilers.  Both people in that bed understanding that the lights can’t be turned out until one more chapter has been read. And one more chapter is never just one.

N, I don’t really expect you’ll read these words but please know while our friendship exploded in flames and anger, I will forever thank you for the role you played in my life and the gift you gave me of sight.

I’ve already written on the end of my marriage.  The loss of tucking my children in each night and waking to their fighting each morning.  I do not wish to dwell on that here.  It’s been written about, but I can’t fail to mention it.

The loss of my fine motor skills, as I type on a computer keyboard plugged into my laptop because the keys are slightly bigger and have more space between them allowing for easier manipulation as I write, my fingers struggling to keep up with my head and heart as it is, has been the hardest to swallow.  Special pens bought for work in order to have a better, more secure, more comfortable grip.  Each of my coworkers knowing that while we are forever stealing one another’s pens, mine are off-limits.  It isn’t a matter of being my favorite, it’s a matter of me being a liability as I need to be sure and reassured I didn’t miscount the money my fingers struggle to manipulate.  I never count just once, I’ve learned to compensate, how to count it, how to manipulate it to be sure I balance each night. But my fingers, my hands, my fine motor skills are being taken from me as I fight tooth and nail to not lose it all.

As I drop my camera, not the point-and-shoot, but my darling Nikki due to a compromised grip as I simply lifted it to move it over 2 feet.  A special strap is already attached to help with grip, any photographer wanting that security no matter the state of their hands.  But who attaches a strap to move something 2 measly feet?  And Nikki fell, my portrait lens busted, and I still, months later, can’t bring myself, can’t find the will within, to learn if my beloved Nikki is still in working order.

As my fine motor skills trickle away, my sanity, stability, tumbles.

 

To Be Continued

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