Sometimes It Really Is Just Depression And Not A BPD Moment Archive

BPD and the Black Hole of Despair

Posted June 29, 2015 By kmarrs

I am going out of my mind with this feeling that I’m just drifting off into space, oblivion, or maybe just coasting along.  I don’t know.  I’m just kind of existing.  I don’t think I’m overly sad, though I am depressed.  That’s a fun one.  I mean, unless you’ve ever suffered clinic depression, it makes no sense.  But it’s a true fact:  You can be sad, but not be depressed, and you can be depressed and not be sad.  Depression isn’t a gauge of how sad you are, even if you are in fact both depressed and sad.

Depression is really this state of being where you’re, I don’t know, feeling less than.  Less than, anything and/or everything.  I currently feel less than a person.

It doesn’t help that my day-to-day doesn’t change from one day to the next.  All my days run together and aside from the occasional appointment, I don’t even have need to know what day of the week it is.  And it’s driving me out of my mind, really.  I am a human being who hates pressure, but still thrives under structure.  There is no structure to anything right now.  None.

My biggest thing I need to get back to is school and I know that.  I needed winter off, I was drowning in life.  The stress was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced just 4 short months ago.

I needed to take the summer off, because if my sister hadn’t received her new liver a few weeks back, we would have buried her by now.  I was hoping for the best, but ready for the worst.  I also would have started the term with my sister on her death-bed no matter what.  It ended well, but it ended well at the last possible minute.

So I go back this fall and I’m so ready for fall to be now.  I’m actually excited about it.  I get to learn again!  I’m going to start where I left off and delve into economics, only this time I’m going to take it in a classroom.  It involves math and therefore follows the math rule: Never try to teach yourself math.  i don’t care how helpful the text-book might be.  Math is just one of those classes that needs the benefit of an instructor walking you through step by step.  Economics is no exception.

As an added bonus, taking it in a classroom will mean I’m out of the house once a week!  Go team! I’m going to burn this place to the ground if I don’t start getting out more!  Only not really,because I’m a pyrophobe and I have like 500 books that I don’t intend to lose.

So I’m anxiously awaiting the day I can register (July 6th).   I’m anxiously awaiting the first day of term (August 17th).

In the meantime, I’m just drifting and it’s soul crushing.

Dear God someone pull me out of this hole!

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Depression and BPD

Posted June 10, 2015 By kmarrs

Fire_antsFor months now, my continued and prolonged state of depression has been written off as a nasty side of effect of having a sister that was maybe dying.  You know, one of those times where depression was based on real life events and not on the fact I’m all sorts of fucked up in the head.  And yes, that’s the technical term I’m going with because it’s how I feel.  Want to fight me on it?

Well, my sister’s life was saved a week and a half ago.  Oh, she’s in miserable shape as she’s recovering from a massive surgery and a long illness, but she’s no longer dying.  There isn’t any reason to think she won’t live to see 80 or older.

It is at this point that all the pretty doctors, like those in the hospital when I tried to be admitted for being a danger to myself, seem to have thought I’d magically feel better.

OK, maybe they didn’t think it would be magically, maybe just a natural cause and effect, but as much as they talked about my sister’s illness being the cause, I damn well expected the effect of feeling world’s better!

If anything I’m feeling twice as worse because the magic didn’t happen.  I didn’t magically feel better when my sister was saved.  Oh, I mean I feel loads better about that, but the depression that eats away at you, crawls under your skill like a billion little bugs invading your every nook and cranny, setting up shop so they can take over your life and eat away at you from the inside out.

And I’m depressed.  I’m depressed as fuck.

I’m taking all the right pills.

I’m doing all the right things.

My sister is saved.

And I can feel the bugs crawling under my skin, invading my life, eating away at all my little happy pieces.  I can feel them.

I can feel them.

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Depression Belly

Posted April 28, 2015 By kmarrs

Did you know it’s been medically proven that people who are depressed tend to gain weight around their middle?  In fact, often beer bellies are actually depression bellies because anyone drinking that much beer is probably also depressed.  Not always, but often.

Well, here is my depression belly in all it’s glory.

depression weight gain bpd borderline personality disorder blog

This is what I see when I look down.  I look about 6-7 months pregnant.

I’m sharing this with you not because I’m proud, but because this is one of those ugly realities of depression.  Most would look at me and think I’m a lazy glutton.  In reality my depression has actually decreased my appetite and I’m actually exercising more these days than I ever have in my past.  This is pure depression.  A physical manifestation that I carry around my middle.

Mt weight isn’t going up or down.  It’s staying steady.  So I’m choosing to see that glass half full when I can.

But the reality of it is, being sad makes me fat and being fat makes me sad and I’m stuck in the middle of a catch 22.

So… I’m going to continue focusing on portion control even when my appetite eventually comes back.  I’m going to continue on the exercise even when I don’t want to.  These days all I can really put my heart into is walking, but it’s good for me both physically and mentally, so it’s something.  I’m currently trying to walk around the block once a day.  When my joints no longer moan  after that, I’ll up it to twice a day, and so on.  If I have to, I’ll take my damn cane.  But I’m trying.

And that’s the best I can do: try.

I suppose that’s the best anyone can do in any situation.

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pills medication BPD Borderline Personality Disorder Depression  Anxiety BipolarAs I type this I’m currently withdrawing from Ativan because I ran out.  I ran out because a minor paperwork fuck up with welfare caused us to lose our insurance for a month.  It’ll be back on May 1, they assure us, and in the meantime if we pay out-of-pocket for the medication Lucas and I need, they will reimburse us.

Because yes, I have a couple grand just laying about.  Luke’s meds alone cost $500.  My Ativan wouldn’t be too bad, but my Geodon dose that I’m running out of next weekend is over a grand by itself and that withdraw is brutal.  Not to mention it’s one of the top medications I take.

So some guy sitting in an office made a mistake, and now we either come up with a couple thousand dollars, that they’ll pay back, or Luke and I proceed to run out of medication one at a time.  Thank God his Vyvanse that he ran out of 2 weeks ago doesn’t cause withdraw.  It just leaves him suffering serious and sometimes dangerous ADHD symptoms.  This is the kids that tried to fly a few years back when he was unmedicated.  That physics experiment left him with a broken wrist.  Luckily age has brought him some wisdom.

Then there is me.  A month ago I was attempting to get myself admitted because I was in rough shape, and now I can’t even take my meds properly.  How is this ok in someone’s eyes.

Anyway, we’re not taking this sitting down.  Pat is writing angry emails to supervisors and spelling out the facts.  We can’t afford to pay out-of-pocket and we can’t afford for me to run out of Geodon.  I can go without my Ativan and I’ll survive the withdraw.  I can even go without my anti-depressant, I might just need to hide for a few days.  But man-o-man is that Geodon withdraw nasty.  I’ll be going from 80 MG to nothing cold turkey, I have no means of tapering down, and unless they find a solution, I have no power to prevent it.

You can’t just cold turkey meds.  Medical rule #1.  You can’t cold turkey psyche meds.  It’s dangerous.  It causes bigger problems.  The list of side effects of a cold turkey is worse than the symptoms themselves.  For reference, if I was on a larger dose of Ativan, I could be suffering seizures right now.  Instead, and thankfully, I’m only light-headed, nauseous, agitated, and suffering worse anxiety than usual.

But man the Geodon.

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BPD and Drinking, bad mixI’ve thought a lot over the past decade, and especially, the past year, about my alcohol consumption and I want to talk about that with you all now.

Full disclosure: I’m currently sipping on about 2 oz of rum in a fruit punch kickstart as I type this Monday night.

So over the past, oh, 8 years especially, I’ve seen a pattern where I do my most drinking when I’m depressed. (Or the 1st of the month working at the bank.)  This isn’t good.  I know that there is nothing wrong with alcohol in moderation, but when I’m at my worse, there is no moderation.  I proved this about a year and a half ago.

Then my sister got sick.  Really sick.  Alcoholism isn’t the sole cause, but it certainly exuberated the problem that was there. (Something genetic, and autoimmune related, we don’t know what but the doctors agree no amount of drinking could have killed her liver this bad that fast.)

Over the past year I’ve warred with myself over whether I should stop drinking altogether, just better monitor and limit it, or leave it alone since I’m always safe with it (in my own home, not driving) and not an alcoholic.

Those suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder tend to have addictive personalities.  Meaning, we are a lot more prone to abusing alcohol and/or drugs.  I’ve always known this and even at my most depressed where rum and vodka are a nightly escape, I’ve always recognized when it’s gotten out of hand, as I watch for it, and I always stop before I lose full control.  I never question the glass of wine on special occasions, but I’ve been careful with drinking for the wrong reasons.  I allow myself a few nights of wallowing in misery, but much beyond that, I recognize where it’s going and stop it before it becomes abuse.  This is a conscious choice I make.

Now… I start to feel bad over even thinking about drinking.  I think the emotion I’m looking for is guilty.  How can I choose to have a drink, when my sister is literally dying from drinking too much?

Well, because I’m not my sister.  I still hold the power within me to choose when too much is too much and stop with ease.  Both in an evening and in a pattern of evenings.  Because I have no medical reason I can’t enjoy a glass of wine on occasion.  Or destress with a shot of rum after an evening of my daughter being particularly 3.

Because really, I have nothing to feel guilty about, I remind myself.

Will I drink in front of my sister?  Well, at least not anytime soon.  But after she gets her transplant (we hope) and it’s all behind us, wine might again get passed around on Christmas, just not to her.  Or it never will again, and that’s ok too.

Will I ever get drunk again?  Maybe, but it’s lost any and all appeal.  Not only does escaping my depression via drinking not actually work, but the thought actually depresses me even more.  I’d rather sleep it off, or lose myself in a book or movie.

Will I allow myself tonight’s shot of rum guilt free?  Well, I’m working on that.  It’s not for the best reason, but it’s literally only 2 oz, and it’s been a long time now since I’ve had a drink.

I may decide in the future to never drink again, but really, as I’m teaching my 11-year-old, who is currently very anti-alcohol as he watches his beloved aunt maybe die because of it, there is nothing wrong with alcohol in moderation.  Special occasions, or limited amounts even frequently.  Red wine is good for the heart, and I think most can unwind after a long week/day with a single drink and not have it be a problem or abuse.

If you do have problems with alcohol, please get help for it now before it becomes too late!  My sister is all of 28 so there is literally no such thing as being too young for complete liver failure.  What can you do for me to comfort me in my grief?  You can get help if you need it to not die of something very preventable.

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Mental Health Check In

Posted March 26, 2015 By kmarrs

Depression BPD Borderline Personality Disorder BipolarI am in the throes of a clinical deep depression.  I’m not going to sit here and blame it all on my brain chemicals acting up, but they certainly aren’t helping.  Basically all of the stress, except money, has been removed from my life, but I’m still…

I feel empty.  I’m having trouble finding interest in things I normally find interesting.  I’m constantly exhausted, but having trouble sleeping.  I have no real appetite unless I’m downright starving because I have not eaten all day.  I’m not BPD raging, but I still have my breaking point where I just want to yell and scream and then cry myself to sleep.

And that’s where I’m at.

It’s a miserable, dark, lonely place.

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