My mind was spinning with ideas for potential first blog posts, but the one that I was most keen on (and most nervous about!) was documenting ‘a week in the life of BPD’. This post was inspired by my favourite YouTuber Sammy Marie Grimm, who is also a trauma survivor with BPD. The link to Sammy’s ‘week in the life of’ video is here, although I’d recommend any of Sammy’s videos to anyone that is interested in learning about the condition.
Sammy speaks very candidly about her struggles with the disorder and I found the aforementioned video especially comforting to watch. I can heavily relate to a lot of things she talks about, but her experience is also markedly different to mine. In talking about how I deal with my mental illness in the day to day, if I could reach one other person and have them know that they are not alone, that I feel it too, then I will be satisfied.
My initial plan was to document my week in one blog post (which is why I’m posting Monday on Friday), but I wrote more than I expected and so each day will sit better as its own entity. The text that is in italic font has been added for clarification purposes.
Monday 29th April 2019
I woke up feeling pretty okay this morning, which I wasn’t expecting as I’d had a bad night last night. I felt as though I needed a mental rest for most of the day yesterday, although running around after 3 maniac children doesn’t leave much time for rest. In the evening I went to the emergency vet with my friend and her puppy (all was okay, thank goodness.) I had an awful headache when I got home.
My husband was ironing shirts in the kitchen and as I couldn’t get to the medicine cupboard, I asked him to pass me the paracetamol. He told me that there were some upstairs so I went up and couldn’t find them and so got into bed. When hubster came up I asked where the pills were and he said that they were behind the TV and passed me two. I thought that he was trying to poison me. Why would he not give me paracetomol in the kitchen? Why were they behind the TV? Why did he give me two pills out of the blister? What had he put on/in them? Were they even paracetomol? At the time I had enough of my wits about me to recognise how illogical my thoughts were and I took the pills and went to sleep. (It’s unusual for me to be this paranoid. In times of high stress, those with BPD can experience paranoia, dissociation and in severe cases, psychosis.)
I managed really well this morning with timekeeping and organising the children. I had everyone ready with time to spare and so I had time to do my make-up before work. It always makes me feel better if people at least think that I have my shit together.
We had a nice start to the day, we listened to music and sang after breakfast and took a steady walk to school and then nursery. After I’d deposited the right children in the right places I went to see my husband, C, at work. I bought a salad and coffee. I’m trying to lose weight, I’m so overweight and feel miserable over it, but comfort eating seems to be my go-to coping technique; something that I developed in childhood.
I arrived at work just past 9am. I drank coffee and caught up with the girls. I happy cried at my favourite colleague (finally) getting engaged and relaying the proposal story to me, before getting on with the day’s admin tasks.
I started ironing after admin and listened to Sammy Marie on YouTube whilst doing so. The iron went crazy at me, steaming and spitting. It needed cleaning I figured out afterwards, but at the time it triggered massive panic in me. I’ve come to camp in the toilet with my phone whilst I wait for the iron to cool. I feel as though I have a huge hole in my stomach, the awful sinking feeling that I get when something truly bad has happened. I really wish I could be at home and in my bed today, but we need the money.
I keep having random bouts of health anxiety today, I really wish I could be at home. I randomly became frightened that vaping would lead to me stopping breathing somehow, maybe my trachea would just start to close? IDK. I’m resolved on making a doctors appointment to request Diazepam after I leave. I know I’m being irrational.
Today has been a very bad day. I got through work though not without struggle, I wanted to go home for most of my shift. I stayed behind an extra 30 minutes, drinking coffee and chatting [I NEED to quit with the caffeine], trying to gather myself before I drove. When I got home I went straight to daycare to collect my youngest. It is a 2 minute walk away from my house but I felt really vulnerable and scared and I had to call my husband (who was walking the dog at the time) so that he could talk to me whilst I walked. I was scared something bad would happen to me.
When home I settled on the sofa and got under the blanket. I was mentally exhausted from the day and even when kids were coming in and out (the children had 2 friends over for tea, meaning 5 kids there in total) I was half asleep and only vaguely aware of what was happening. When nodding off I felt like I knew the advert on TV was for me and it was everything I was scared of. Very odd.
I slept for an hour and woke up when my husband had made tea (LOVE HIM!). My friend text re: the police and I started searching for ‘B’ (A member of a grooming gang I became entangled with and have recently reported to the police), which triggered me massively. My husband had to go back to work and I spent a while in and out of dissociation but managed to take the kids back to my friends, where we stayed for an hour. I was very dissociated the whole time and found it very hard to keep up with conversation. Whilst there I filled in an NHS online form re: my current episode and it said that I needed a call back. I booked one for two hours later.
The kids played for a while and at some stage I went home. I put my girls straight to bed and sat on the bed and meditated to try and get a hold on myself. I fell asleep and when I woke up I realised that C had nearly finished work again. I then meditated until he came home.
As soon as C came in from work he came upstairs to me I told him we were ordering pizza and playing overcooked on the Xbox one. I’m not usually so direct or insistent but I just wanted to stuff my face and try and relax to forget about things [What diet?].. It worked well for about two hours, as soon as I came away from the Xbox the anxiety returned, but it was nice to have that break from the sinking feeling in my stomach. The NHS rang (about five hours after me filling the form in) and I didn’t feel as though I could talk to them at that time.
My therapist is an angel and has got me in for tomorrow morning. My mother in law is collecting my youngest at 9 so that I can go. I’m also going to call the doctors for some Diazepam. Whilst I’m this bad I just need to take things half a day at a time.
Please excuse the mishmash of tenses, I am by no means a professional blogger. I hope that this reads well and can give someone an insight into how the BPD mind deals with stress. Tuesdays entry will be posted at a later time.
~E x