Admission
I cannot say that this is an official or professional diagnosis since I have not gone to a doctor of any sort, but, from my own research and reading, it is, in my layman’s opinion, what is wrong with me.
I’ve looked into the subject before, but last night, I was detached and calm as I read the first chapter of ‘Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified’, which is a book by Robert O. Friedel, MD. The first chapter of the book lists our the symptoms of BPD, and I wasn’t astounded or resigned to find myself looking into the literary equivalent of a mirror. I recognized each of my traits, recognized the emotionally imbalances, and even recognized the desire to inflict self-harm (although, for the most part, I have moved on from inflicting pain upon myself and do not drink, since I cannot logically allow myself to get drunk and my mother scared the crap out of us with stories of alcoholics in the family. The stories there were nowhere near as gruesome as the anti-smoking tales, but, the effect was the same, and my brother and I are bother rather sparse drinkers.). They mention suicide, which, while I have talked about it before I have only attempted once, and that time it was pretty stupid. Again, logic comes into play and I remind myself that suicide is a permanent solution to a relatively temporary or fixable problem.
I am slightly amazed that this diagnosis never came up from any of the therapists I was dragged to as a child. I was in therapy from about third grad through my senior year of high school. As a student in elementary school, even before the therapy sessions with my mother’s therapist started, I was diagnosed with ADD and then ADHD by our pediatrician. My parents first tried the Feingold Diet, but lacking results I was put on Ritalin. I remained on Ritalin, with an increasing dosage, until junior high school. At that point it just didn’t seem to be working anymore. From eight grade on I was put on a series of anti-depressants- Wellbutrin, Effexor, Paxil, and finally Prozac. I hated the Prozac, since I felt like I was in a constant state of fog. I was ‘happy’ but I wasn’t happy. I came off it after Columbine when I realized I couldn’t cope with the tragedy and I needed to feel. Prozac also altered the course of my life because at that point I was determined to join the Navy or attend WyoTech. Of course, to join the military, they want you to be off any drugs like Prozac for at least a year before joining. I’d been off, without a doctor’s guidance, for three months at my physical. I didn’t join the Navy, and I never got up the full desire to go to WyoTech.
Right now I am taking baby steps- reading the book mentioned above is a start. I have bought a one month’s supply of B12 and St. John’s Wort to see if I can affect my mood imbalances in a fairly natural way first. Pharmaceuticals are my last choice, since I did not like being in the emotionless state they often put me in and the only time I felt anything was when I was pushed to extremes. Therapy is also something that I am wary of due to my experiences growing up. I tend to joke about the number of therapists I went through (four, including psychologists, a psychiatrist, and a neurologist), and how I convinced two of them that there was nothing wrong with me and staged my mother for an embarrassing emotional battle during out monthly joint sessions. I couldn’t comprehend the group therapy I was placed in during my early high school years, since it was with a bunch of guys, half of whom had been heavily medicated and had spent time in the local mental hospital. Bribes for good behavior during that bout of therapy (candy bars for talking about how we did exactly as we were told over the week) did not work on me, and neither did the socialization exercises (we played a card game involving bluffing, and I have an amazing inability to lie when it is not of consequence. Yes, I fooled and lied to two therapists about my mental and emotional states, but I couldn’t lie during a card game.). The last psychiatrist I went to made me cry by telling me I was worthless, and that ended my association with anyone offering counseling or therapy. Although, I did like my neurologist, even though he put me on Prozac and made me the center of attention when I came in with vertigo as a side effect of the Prozac. He was the only one I clearly remember not pandering to me and bluntly told me I had something wrong in my brain and he cussed. I always thought he was like Becker, but heavyset and with a beard.
Right now, I starting these steps on my own. Dave has decided that he cannot deal with the mood swings, emotionally imbalance, and the anger when I lash out at him. I know that I don’t entirely mean to lash out at him, he’s just the most convenient target, like my parents were when I was growing up. He left yesterday, alerting me with only a text message, and leaving me to try to find my way to an answer without him. Yes, I can understand his desire to walk away from the situation, but, it is not helping me in the least because now, instead of focusing solely on what’s wrong with me and how to deal with it while I am in a relatively clear state of mind, I am trying to find the solution while trying to mitigate my emotional responses from the BPD. Abandonment issues are at the forefront, and I am trying my hardest to hold them at bay along with the resentment, hatred, resignation, and trying not to convince myself to just cut myself off from the world because he’s not going to come back.
That’s the strongest feeling this morning- resentment and hatred and anger that he’s not going to come back to me and give me a chance as I try to diagnose and treat myself. I told him that I bought the B12 and St. John’s Wort and earned myself no response, and an admittance that he only did respond after I had pushed him to. This has not set well with me since I spoke to him last night. It also is not helping that while he said he would like to keep the lines of communication open with me, but I don’t think he wants to communicate about what is going on between us right now. I also resent him that he has a network of friends here that he can rely upon for support, and had someone who he could go to and spend time away from me with. I don’t have that network of friends here, and I can’t reach out to anyone we know because, first and foremost, they are his friends. I cannot confide in someone whose allegiances will be torn if things cannot be dealt with, and I cannot confide in someone whom I know could tell him anything I say in apparent confidence. My friends who I can talk to are all no closer than a phone call, and will allow me to pour out my soul, but they cannot offer the physical support I also need right now. So, yes, right now I feel have the short end of the stick- the mental problem, the lack of support, and the lack of communication.
Maybe things will be different today and over the weekend. All I can do is read, take my pills, and try to find a way to get better. I will also be cleaning, since that is usually therapeutic, and maybe having more organization will help in some way. Cleaning should also keep me from spending the time to make a batch of cupcakes and eating all of them by myself. Self-destructive behavior is not something else I need to struggle with right now. I also feel detached since I can look at all of this and I can say what is wrong with me and I can see what is wrong with me. Although, in my adult life, I’ve never once represented that there is nothing wrong with me, nor have I not warned people involved with me on a personal level that I can be very difficult to get along with. Some of that, I feel, is being ignored in favor of focusing frustrations on me.
In the end, I am likely to be dealing with this for myself and by myself. I am not happy about that, as I had always hoped that I’d have someone there to help me in a relationship, but, if I must, I must. I know this is the resentment and depression talking, but, it won’t be the first time I’ve been left on my own with minimal support to figure something out. Wish me luck.
I’ve looked into the subject before, but last night, I was detached and calm as I read the first chapter of ‘Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified’, which is a book by Robert O. Friedel, MD. The first chapter of the book lists our the symptoms of BPD, and I wasn’t astounded or resigned to find myself looking into the literary equivalent of a mirror. I recognized each of my traits, recognized the emotionally imbalances, and even recognized the desire to inflict self-harm (although, for the most part, I have moved on from inflicting pain upon myself and do not drink, since I cannot logically allow myself to get drunk and my mother scared the crap out of us with stories of alcoholics in the family. The stories there were nowhere near as gruesome as the anti-smoking tales, but, the effect was the same, and my brother and I are bother rather sparse drinkers.). They mention suicide, which, while I have talked about it before I have only attempted once, and that time it was pretty stupid. Again, logic comes into play and I remind myself that suicide is a permanent solution to a relatively temporary or fixable problem.
I am slightly amazed that this diagnosis never came up from any of the therapists I was dragged to as a child. I was in therapy from about third grad through my senior year of high school. As a student in elementary school, even before the therapy sessions with my mother’s therapist started, I was diagnosed with ADD and then ADHD by our pediatrician. My parents first tried the Feingold Diet, but lacking results I was put on Ritalin. I remained on Ritalin, with an increasing dosage, until junior high school. At that point it just didn’t seem to be working anymore. From eight grade on I was put on a series of anti-depressants- Wellbutrin, Effexor, Paxil, and finally Prozac. I hated the Prozac, since I felt like I was in a constant state of fog. I was ‘happy’ but I wasn’t happy. I came off it after Columbine when I realized I couldn’t cope with the tragedy and I needed to feel. Prozac also altered the course of my life because at that point I was determined to join the Navy or attend WyoTech. Of course, to join the military, they want you to be off any drugs like Prozac for at least a year before joining. I’d been off, without a doctor’s guidance, for three months at my physical. I didn’t join the Navy, and I never got up the full desire to go to WyoTech.
Right now I am taking baby steps- reading the book mentioned above is a start. I have bought a one month’s supply of B12 and St. John’s Wort to see if I can affect my mood imbalances in a fairly natural way first. Pharmaceuticals are my last choice, since I did not like being in the emotionless state they often put me in and the only time I felt anything was when I was pushed to extremes. Therapy is also something that I am wary of due to my experiences growing up. I tend to joke about the number of therapists I went through (four, including psychologists, a psychiatrist, and a neurologist), and how I convinced two of them that there was nothing wrong with me and staged my mother for an embarrassing emotional battle during out monthly joint sessions. I couldn’t comprehend the group therapy I was placed in during my early high school years, since it was with a bunch of guys, half of whom had been heavily medicated and had spent time in the local mental hospital. Bribes for good behavior during that bout of therapy (candy bars for talking about how we did exactly as we were told over the week) did not work on me, and neither did the socialization exercises (we played a card game involving bluffing, and I have an amazing inability to lie when it is not of consequence. Yes, I fooled and lied to two therapists about my mental and emotional states, but I couldn’t lie during a card game.). The last psychiatrist I went to made me cry by telling me I was worthless, and that ended my association with anyone offering counseling or therapy. Although, I did like my neurologist, even though he put me on Prozac and made me the center of attention when I came in with vertigo as a side effect of the Prozac. He was the only one I clearly remember not pandering to me and bluntly told me I had something wrong in my brain and he cussed. I always thought he was like Becker, but heavyset and with a beard.
Right now, I starting these steps on my own. Dave has decided that he cannot deal with the mood swings, emotionally imbalance, and the anger when I lash out at him. I know that I don’t entirely mean to lash out at him, he’s just the most convenient target, like my parents were when I was growing up. He left yesterday, alerting me with only a text message, and leaving me to try to find my way to an answer without him. Yes, I can understand his desire to walk away from the situation, but, it is not helping me in the least because now, instead of focusing solely on what’s wrong with me and how to deal with it while I am in a relatively clear state of mind, I am trying to find the solution while trying to mitigate my emotional responses from the BPD. Abandonment issues are at the forefront, and I am trying my hardest to hold them at bay along with the resentment, hatred, resignation, and trying not to convince myself to just cut myself off from the world because he’s not going to come back.
That’s the strongest feeling this morning- resentment and hatred and anger that he’s not going to come back to me and give me a chance as I try to diagnose and treat myself. I told him that I bought the B12 and St. John’s Wort and earned myself no response, and an admittance that he only did respond after I had pushed him to. This has not set well with me since I spoke to him last night. It also is not helping that while he said he would like to keep the lines of communication open with me, but I don’t think he wants to communicate about what is going on between us right now. I also resent him that he has a network of friends here that he can rely upon for support, and had someone who he could go to and spend time away from me with. I don’t have that network of friends here, and I can’t reach out to anyone we know because, first and foremost, they are his friends. I cannot confide in someone whose allegiances will be torn if things cannot be dealt with, and I cannot confide in someone whom I know could tell him anything I say in apparent confidence. My friends who I can talk to are all no closer than a phone call, and will allow me to pour out my soul, but they cannot offer the physical support I also need right now. So, yes, right now I feel have the short end of the stick- the mental problem, the lack of support, and the lack of communication.
Maybe things will be different today and over the weekend. All I can do is read, take my pills, and try to find a way to get better. I will also be cleaning, since that is usually therapeutic, and maybe having more organization will help in some way. Cleaning should also keep me from spending the time to make a batch of cupcakes and eating all of them by myself. Self-destructive behavior is not something else I need to struggle with right now. I also feel detached since I can look at all of this and I can say what is wrong with me and I can see what is wrong with me. Although, in my adult life, I’ve never once represented that there is nothing wrong with me, nor have I not warned people involved with me on a personal level that I can be very difficult to get along with. Some of that, I feel, is being ignored in favor of focusing frustrations on me.
In the end, I am likely to be dealing with this for myself and by myself. I am not happy about that, as I had always hoped that I’d have someone there to help me in a relationship, but, if I must, I must. I know this is the resentment and depression talking, but, it won’t be the first time I’ve been left on my own with minimal support to figure something out. Wish me luck.