It hasn’t been an easy year for me so far. I haven’t written here since March and that wasn’t a positive post, to say the least. A week after that post I was back in hospital. I assumed it would be like the other times and they would keep me a day or two and send me home. If that had happened, that would have been the end of me. On my third day there a mishap caused major water damage to another ward. Because they had to make room in the other already over crowded wards, I was sent to a transitional unit. A wonderful nurse that was working that night helped me so much. He made sure I was assigned to a doctor who has been a great fit for me. The staff and atmosphere at this unit was such a good and fortunate thing for me. I was there a few weeks and through another quirk of fate, my doctor ended up at my community MH office so I have continued working with her. It is only for a short while, but it has been good for me. Last week I started DBT and WRAP. Life is still a struggle but at least my support team seems to have more hope for me. I am slowly getting back into the world, also. More updates to come, there are some other exciting possibilities coming up soon for me.
I feel like I need to write something, but I don’t know what. I need to feel some connection to something other than depression and darkness. I am so tired.
I saw my GP on Thursday. She is a wonderful person and I know she is worried about me. I hate that I am such a burden. Just before I left her office she told me something that meant so much. She let me know what she thinks of me as a person. It isn’t often that I am a person to someone else. Most of the time I am a patient or client. This means a very controlled one way relationship with no chance to be real. It has its place, but it makes me feel even more isolated to have no real relationships.
Something in me snapped a few weeks ago. On my son’s birthday, I gave up. I have been fighting this darkness for a long time and I just couldn’t anymore. I have given up. I quit my meds that weekend. The doctors think that is the cause of me getting worse, I think it is a symptom. I reached the point where I can’t see a purpose to fight anymore.
I know I have been a pain in the ass to a lot of people. I am sorry. I don’t mean to be. I was desparate for help. I wanted a reason to keep going and haven’t been able to find one.
I currently have only two significant relationships in my life. They are both professionals, my GP and my therapist. I have no personal relationships. I am afraid of relationships, I know how bad I mess them up and how bad I feel when I do. I see my GP every week for a half hour and my therapist for an hour, that is less than 1% of my week. Work consumes roughly 24% of my week so that leaves 75% of my week where I am completely alone. To look at it another way, I spend 24% of my time to earn the money to just survive 75% of the time while I wait for the 1% of my time that matters at all to me. Lately I have spent a good deal of the 75% of my time wondering why I bother at all. Is it really worth it to keep fighting with myself and keep holding on just so I can go to work and make my appointments each week?
Tomorrow is my enemy. Today has been no walk in the park, but I managed to get to work. Once my day has started, I somehow manage to break it into chunks that can be survived. I have made it to lunch, now I just have to make it to the end of work. After that I just have to make it home, then dinner, then to bedtime. It isn’t always easy, but it is mostly manageable. Tomorrow is another story, though. Tomorrow is always frightening and overwhelming. I don’t even know if I will be able to get out of bed. I am not sure why, but tomorrow can never be split into manageable pieces. Tomorrow is always this big huge task that hovers just over the horizon. It is dark and scary and full of the unknown. The unknown is never good either! The promises tomorrow holds will surely be the end of me. Tomorrow scares me, I know I can’t defeat all the tomorrows. I guess I am safe, though as long as the enemy is always tomorrow. I know I am in real trouble when today becomes the enemy that I can’t manage.
That is what I would love to be able to tell my doctor when she calls next week. I would love to wake up one morning and think this. There really isn’t any reason I can see that I shouldn’t be feeling great today.
I met with an intake worker this week at an organization I am excited to start going to. It will provide social contact and an opportunity to feel a little productive again, all in a supportive environment. My new counsellor and I have moved past the get to know you stage and are starting to do some real work. Today, my former employer let me know they are finally going to send me the backpay they owe me, so housing is not an immediate problem. Overall, it has been a good week, but I have been anxious all week. There is no particular reason. Everytime I leave home, I am just waiting for something bad to happen. It is almost like I am holding my breath until I get home again. Home feels safe but danger lurks on the other side of the door.
My logical brain hates this feeling. Unfortunately, logic doesn’t make the feeling go away. I think I am becoming immune to logic. Logic has no place in my life right now. Logic has always served me well and now it just makes me feel worse about myself.
So far I have made it through another week. Two days ago, I wouldn’t have given good odds on my being here today to write this. I am so tired of just making it through each day. I want to feel like I am actually living each day. Maybe I would be happier if there wasn’t a part of me that knows that I could feel better than I do right now?
The biggest accomplishment for me this week was an interview with social assistance. I think it went well and hopefully I will have some income soon. An advocate from a local nonprofit organization went with me. Having the support, even just as a cheerleader made it easier. Not being able to work and relying on social assistance has brought up some unanticipated feelings, though.
My father was a conservative southern republican. His views on social assistance were not kind to the people who need it. I haven’t really thought about that in years and years. My views and his have obviously always been miles apart. I can only imagine what he would have to say if he were to learn that his only son is, in fact, a daughter who is not able to work because of mental illness.
Anyway, while I was growing up I often heard his take on anyone who couldn’t work. I heard how mental illness is not real in his eyes and how anyone could just suck it up and work if they really wanted to. This week I have found myself thinking his thoughts about me. I have never thought that about anyone else, but I am applying his standards and his stigmas to myself. It really sucks but I can’t seem to convince myself otherwise. I feel so ashamed for being how I am and not being able to work or be productive. On top of that, I am ashamed for sharing in any part of my fathers conservative views, even if they are just applied to me.
All this coupled with extremely dissapointing news about DBT treatment has made this one of the tougher weeks for me. I think I will probably just hide at home this weekend to try to recharge for week ahead. I really just want to be halfway normal and be able to find some joy in my life. I hope I can get there someday before I destroy myself.
I have lived with my BPD and depression for many years without looking for help. I am honestly not too sure how I survived, but I have made it so far. Now that I am looking for help and being honest about how messed up my life is, I can’t see going back to suffering in silence. Being open about it is leading to changes and right now they are pretty hard to take.
This week and last I am facing the fact that I am not totally sure when I will be able to work full time again. Before I opened up, I was not being fair to my employers. I knew there were times they were not getting what they paid for because I wasn’t capable of concentrating and doing a good job. I was always worried they would find out and fire me, so I would leave before that could happen. This is the longest I have been unemployed since I graduated from University, though and it is a strange place to be in. I feel so useless and unproductive. At least when I had a job, I was forced to get up, shower and dress to go be unproductive. Now I can do it unshowered from the comfort of my own bed. I don’t like it at all.
No job also means I will have to rely on employment insurance or income assistance. I know this is a legitimate use of these, but I still feel like a useless burden. The limited income will mean moving to subsidized housing. There is nothing to be ashamed of in any of this, my illnesses are very real, very crippling and very much a threat to my existence right now, but I can’t help but think I am taking resources someone more deserving needs.
This really sucks when all I wanted was good counselling and help with my depression and BPD. Unfortunately this is the help I can’t find. I struggling to find a reason to keep going. Without this help I could be a burden to others for a while, and what is the point of that? There is a huge battle going on in my mind most of the time now and depression seems to be turning it’s foothold into a stronghold.