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

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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My Sister Part 2

Posted March 17, 2015 By kmarrs

Liver failure blog bpd borderline personality disorderI.  Wow.  Trying to write these words.  Writing it.  Seeing it in black and white makes it so real.  So incredibly real.

I suppose I should start by having you read this post on My Sister.  It’s only a month or so old.

So.  Her health is getting worse faster than they anticipated.  As of typing this, she has a week or two to get a transplant, or the next step is hospice.  Once hospice, they really only give it 3-4 months.

Her camp is fighting to get her a transplant, but the team sees her as noncompliant in a couple of really stupid ways.  So we’ll see.

I am not letting go of hope, but I’m also forcing myself to see reality.  I can’t assume either way basically.

And that’s all I’m really up to saying on the subject.

Assume you’ll hear from me either way this goes.

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The BPD Mountain of Stress

Posted March 16, 2015 By kmarrs

Borderline Personality Disorder BPD and stressRemember that mountain I was climbing? The top was recovery?  The bottom was the hospital?  Well, I landed on the roof of the hospital not too long after the post went live.  And god I wanted in those doors.  I wanted admitted.  I wanted to feel safe again.  But, we couldn’t really afford it.

I was, however, given the green light to drop classes this semester.  It increased the stress over money, (Care to donate?  The button is to the right.  It’ll go to things like electric and gas.) but the stress over trying to pull off school was actually worse.  I was so stressed I was losing my ability to concentrate and function as a human being.  And I just couldn’t advance my education through that.

Am I dropped out for good? Hell no! But for sure the rest of winter semester and maybe summer semester as well.  I’ll have to pay back on my loans some, but if David, the Brother-in-law that lives with us, gets the job he’s talking about, that will still be less stressful than trying to focus on my education.

So I’ll take something like nine months off, including what I’ve already taken, which will be spent bettering my medication cocktail, spending time with my sister and seeing if she’ll survive this failing liver issue, and rebuilding a friendship I thought I had lost.  Hell, maybe it is lost for good, I don’t know.  I’ve been told something will be figured out, but we’ll see.  If I do have that friendship back, however, I’ll have an essential part of my personal support system back in place.  So we’ll see.  If he is loss, then I will have mourned and healed by then.

Altogether,  come August or September, I plan to be ready to reenter the academic world, ready to take names, kick ass, and keep my GPA where it’s at.  I do love learning and school, even if it is stressful at times.  It just needs to be about the only major stressor.

Which is good, as I might owe the school a couple thousand due to the timing of me dropping.  That part is still being worked out.  Ideally they will let me pay it back with future loan money.  Or a payment plan, or it will be forgiven.  Who knows.  It’ll be decided.

My academic advisor knows the full situation and knows this isn’t me being lazy but my life exploding in my face, on top of my debilitating mental health issues.  He also has access to the grades I’ve pulled off.  So he is going to work with financial aid for me, and they will come to a solution.  So I’m choosing to not worry about it.  Even a payment plan is less stressful than what I was going through just a few days ago.

The ugly cry automatically triggered by going to the school site, was a clear sign that is was time to give up pretending I could school.  So was the cutting.

So now, I’m not without stress, but I removed what I could, so I can better focus on healing from what I can’t.

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