BPD Is A Bitch Archive

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) I did a fresh take on this subject over at BuzzFeed. It’s not too far from what is found around these parts, however maybe I worded it in such a way that it might resonate with someone? I don’t know, but you should go check it out and give it some love!

Why am I going crazy over there? If I get verified as having content worth paying attention to there, it might get noticed over here that I have content worth paying attention too. Which traffic for any site is good. HOWEVER if I can get enough traffic up here, I’ll look into setting up a community forum board for us. I want people to be able to create real friendships and give real advice in these parts. But I need to build the community first. The regular visitors.

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The Year of the Doctor

Posted January 23, 2015 By kmarrs

Taking care of health is important if you have Borderline Personality DisorderYar!  I promised thee a blog post!

Alright this is apparently the year where I celebrate having insurance again by being a responsible adult that takes care of her physical well-being.  Parts of this are easy, and other part not so much.  Also imbedded within these words will be an update as to my mental health and the meds I’m now taking.  So way to be relevant to the blog topic, self!  *pats self on back*

So, topics to cover:

  • Head
  • Shoulders
  • Knees
  • Toes
  • Eyes
  • Ears
  • Mouth
  • Nose
  • Lady Parts

Maybe not in the order, huh?

EYES: A major “yay!” and a slight “WTF MATE!” included!

So all 5 of my clan went to the eye doctor this week.  The husband, oldest and I have all worn classes since we were each respectively 7 or 8 years old.  So for us it was just a yearly check in.  Nothing of note for Pat or Thomas, other than Thomas has my eyes in more than just color.  (Did you know that it’s been proven that the more you read, the more near-sighted you become?  Explains why I’m damn near blind.)

I, of course, need new glasses as well only… So apparently based off their previous records on me, my current prescription, and what the script in my current glasses read to be, the last place to examine eyes and get my lenses really messed up their readings *coughWALMARTcough*.  What’s the most fucked up about that is that the year I got those glasses was the only year I’ve ever had insurance through work and Wal-Mart was basically the only place that took that insurance and my mom still had to pay through the nose for me to get these glasses and apparently the royally messed up. That or my eyes magically got better by a lot and then tragically got a little worse than they had been the year or two prior.  So, really?  Every other year the government has paid for my glasses, which I no longer feel guilty about because I’ve gotten a better doctor and better glasses that I need to see because I’m going blind.  Anyway I’m back to one of my 2 old eye doctors (I flipped between them based on location and who could get me in without a 15 month wait) and they have always run consistent to one another.  So I know where I’m staying here on out.  Also?  She got me to 20/15 which she apparently can never accomplish in people with eye-sight as bad as mine and I can confirm has not happened in a really, really long time.  I’m so excited for those glasses to come in!  I’ll read all the things!  ALL OF THEM! *cough*

Lucas, who turns 7 today *sob* will be getting his first pair of glasses, and while we aren’t surprised he needs them, we are surprised just how bad his eyes are at his age.  When Thomas first got glasses he could take them off to play.  Not Luke.  I think this kid is about to see a whole new world!  Also; he won’t sit with his nose glued to the TV while watching anymore.

Sammy, who also sits nose to TV, has been confirmed to do so because she is 3.  The good doc did detect she isn’t exactly 20/20, but it’s a small degree of vision imperfection and usually not worth trying to convince a 3yo to take care of glasses over, unless there are other signs of trouble. (There aren’t.)  So while Sammy will indeed be wearing glasses in the future, she isn’t there yet.  Which is good.  It’s inevitable with the poor girl’s genetics, but I really am not up to that battle.

Lady Parts:

I’ll spare you details.  However, let me say that while I am two years out of sync on what should be a yearly appointment due to first no insurance, and then a chaotic uprising, I’m back on track here and scheduled for my yearly.  Also: When was your last well check here?  Guys, I know most/all of us are falling apart in so many ways, but this appointment is so important and can not be skipped.  These doctors look for some scary stuff.  Especially scary if left untreated.  So please, if you are behind, pick up the phone and schedule now.  No insurance?  Planned Parenthood takes care of so much of this as well, for I believe decent prices.  It varies by location; ask.

HEAD:

I’m doing mostly ok in the mental health department, but this is with the help of a dozen pills a day.  Since getting back in, I have been seeing my meds doctor regularly. Then, despite a few month blip where I had to cancel due to a funeral, and then not making it back in for a bit, I am back to seeing my therapist every couple of weeks.  I actually had a meds appointment today, which is why I owed you this blog post and didn’t write it on the spot, and we had a discussion on the current main symptom, which I’ll get to in a second.  First we’ll discuss the pill regiment up until today’s addition.

First, I’m on Cymbalta 60mg every morning.  It’s my go-to anti-depressant and I actually look forward to taking it when I start to fall apart.  Oh, it kills my sex drive and makes me fat, but it is also the best I’ve found at making me feel stable, without the robotic after taste.

I take 300mg of Trileptal every AM and 600 in the PM.  It is the mood stabilizer that has always been good to me.  Again, no robotic after taste.  As an added bonus, it doesn’t want to kill me like Lamictal does. (Can you imagine death by rash?)

New for me is my twice a day 1mg of Ativan.  This is a fairly low dose (higher than the 1mg part implies) that doesn’t take away all my stress and anxiety, but it takes away the physical tics it brings.  A higher dose that kills the anxiety does things to me (man).  But as my anxiety tends to make my skin crawl and other just not fun things, I’m on a high enough of a dose to prevent that crap.  As an added bonus: for the first time in about 7 years, not only do I have hair but it’s past my shoulders now!

So today I went in with the intent on talking about my rage.  Sure enough, when the other symptoms are under control, I become a raging beast.  I’m not psychical or violent, but I’m loud and can use hurtful words.  I think we all know first hand that words can hurt just as much, if not more, than violence and actions.  So after brief discussion, per my request I start back on Geodon tomorrow.  Oh, antipsychotics aren’t a joy to be on, but I’ve been on/off them enough to know the pros and cons of either side of that decision and I’m looking forward to feeling more like Dr Jekyll, and less like Mr Hyde again.  (More Banner, less HULK?)  Even if it does mean I’m going to eat every carb in sight and pack on another 20 pounds.

KNEES?:

Speaking of packing on another 20 pounds, I’m currently the heaviest I’ve ever been and I don’t like it!  It’s like over the past 3 months I have just packed it on!  Well, with the Holidays behind me, I’m fixing that, dammit.  I wouldn’t say I’ve given up pop, but I’ve cut way down and am working on drinking a lot more water.  I’m eating less pasta and more rice.  I’m doing my best to be more physically active, but I’m writing this a week after buying my first cane (knees!), so there is that.  Nevertheless I don’t need the cane everyday, so on my good days I’m going to go out and walk/run the neighborhood like I swore to when we first moved in (and then life fell to shit around me).  I won’t ever be society’s idea of skinny, but that’s ok.  I just want to be happy with my body within my own ideals of attractive, and I’m not.  I also want to fit all my clothes again, and I don’t.

MOUTH:

Ugh.  I can’t even… It took us something like 8 years to find a dentist that both took our insurance and was someone we were willing to go back to.  I tell you, there are a lot of bad dentists in the world.  It’s even worse than regular General Practitioners.  We finally fund one just to have him close down his business in the past year (had to go back home due his mom’s failing health).  I don’t even care that he was in the opposite side of town.  I would have made the drive.  Now I’m back to square one and we are all well over-due for a visit.  I seriously… Why is this so hard?  I mean, I can tell horror stories.  I really liked the dentist that we finally found too.

NOSE:

Speaking of general practitioners… I need one of these even more than I need a dentist but I’m seriously dragging heels about this.  Frankly, most just don’t know how to help me or are scared of me.  How my Borderline Personality Disorder scares a way a doctor that won’t even be treating it as I have a great mental health team, is beyond me.  I literally could scream.  Dear Doctor, if you want to be frightened away by a condition, at least let it be the fact you aren’t competent in treating fibromyalgia.  Oh, about that.  Mind you, I’ve only had one doctor ever even realize I suffer from fibro, so that is annoying in itself.  But now that it’s finally on record, I’m opening with that.  However, the reason I’m not going back to that doctor, besides the fact he’s terrified of my mental health that he isn’t treating, is that he was constantly wanting to treat the fibro with meds I was already on for the mental health or meds I had been on for it.  First off, and yes this does give you some leeway to be scared of the BPD monster, you can’t just throw a mental health pill at a mental health patient, without considering the repercussions.  Also, if I was on a pill for years for my mental health and it never ever helped my fibro, why would it suddenly magically make my fibro better now?  Ok, I’ll humor you.  Oh look, I’m suddenly suicidal because misuse of antidepressants can do that, ironically.  Alright, fine.  Maybe his fear of my mental health WAS valid.  But only because he was a moron.  And he isn’t even the doctor that I walked out on, or the one who put me on blood pressure meds to treat the wrong kind of headache, and then claimed he was 150% sure that the meds weren’t what caused me to gain 20 pounds suddenly over a 2 month span despite me doing everything else right. (True fact: In a study of whether or not blood pressure meds cause weight gain, what he put me on was called out by name to cause rapid and massive weight gain.  Yet he was 150% positive that those meds don’t cause weight gain and in fact tried to pin it on the fact I just had a baby.  This was about 6 months AFTER giving birth.)  So needless to say I’m a little skeptical about the medical profession and not looking forward to having to find yet another new doctor.  However, the husband is insisting and it would be nice to have someone to see should I have a general illness, and should he actually know how to treat my fibro, and not be scared by the BPD monster… well, I’m not holding my breath.

Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes

Bleh

 

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Level 10 aka BPD Word Vomit

Posted June 15, 2014 By kmarrs

word vomit and BPD impulse controlI think everyone has those moments in their life that are on constant repeat even decades later where they are like, “Omg did I really say/do that?” In most cases, I think we blow them out of proportion and we feel this undying mortification or regret for things that we are, in fact, the only ones to remember.  We are, after all, our own biggest critics.

I do also think, however, that someone with BPD who is at their most unstable adds a whole new level to this.  Because while everyone says things that they wish they could take back, we are far more unfiltered and reach astounding heights in our ability to be uncensored, unaware of consequences, and incapable of impulse control.

There are things I have said and done, mostly inadvertently, that I just can’t help wonder if things could be different if they hadn’t been said or done.  The relationships I have destroyed that I held so dear, that I didn’t realize until it was far too late what was happening.  I was that far gone, that unaware of the situation, and that trusting that the other person would understand I was at my worst and didn’t have the skill set to really control my impulses, my thoughts and my situational awareness.  And clearly, that was misplaced trust.

And please don’t get me wrong in that.  The fault is my own.  Everyone realistically has their limits on what they can turn a blind eye to, and me at my worst can push past the limits of even the most patient of people.

I just…

While everyone reflects back on the time they put a foot in their mouth, and mostly with needless worry…

My regrets run deep.

And some wounds, I truly fear, will never heal.

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They were wrong

Posted June 12, 2014 By kmarrs

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I’m Sorry

Posted May 9, 2014 By kmarrs

Spoonie and mental healthI’m sorry I don’t write anymore.  I’m just waiting for the day where my days aren’t measured by the spoonful.  I’m waiting to find the words to explain what the hell is happening to me.  I’m not doing ok, but I’ll live through it.

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You’re Not Writing!

Posted February 26, 2014 By kmarrs

Depression BPD Borderline Personality Disorder BipolarActually, I am.  Just not here.  And it’s mostly poetry.

I’m not exactly doing well at the moment.  I mean, I don’t feel depressed and I’m not suicidal or any of that crap.  I just can’t get out of bed most days.

Logic tells me that’s depression.  It’s weird being depressed, showing so many signs of depression, without feeling overly sad.  I think, honestly, I’m too tired and lethargic to feel much of anything but tired and lethargic.

I really need to talk to my meds doctor about it but I missed my last appointment due to hitting a pot hole (read: sink hole) with the car and shredding two tires and rims.  It was glorious.  And by glorious I mean a pain in the ass.  Luckily we were already planning new tires and rims with the tax return that showed up a couple of days later, but… I missed an important appointment.

I’m not even sure what to really say to her.  “Hi, I’m not sad but I’m not exactly living.”

But then, in many ways I am living.  When I have the energy to partake in life I really enjoy it.  Pat and I went to the ballet a week or so ago.  We saw their interpretation of Alice in Wonderland.  The day before that we went to a friend’s art show at a gallery.  When I can find the energy I make the most of it.  The catch is a slept for 48 hours leading up to and following those 48 hours of energy burst.  96 hours in bed to be able to have 48 hours of normal life is fucked up math.

And I’m getting 105% in math, so I know my math.

Anyway, I’m writing over on my new tumblr blog.  It’s mostly poetry but then, not really.  It’s whatever the hell I want it to be.  There are no rules, no restrictions, no structure.  So it currently fits what I need for my writing.  You’ll notice a theme, should you read.

I loss someone recently.  Not someone I’ve discussed on here.  I don’t want to talk about it.  Not the details, anyways.  They are private to the two of us.  I’ll leave it that.

So, the tumblr: Shakespeare She Is Not

 

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