Help Me Doctor...

This is an older post from another blog describing the physical ailments I am constantly fighting to try to find some kind of functionality in my life:

I spent another night at the hospital again last night. I'm getting so tired of these required trips to the ER. I have even developed favorite doctors and doctors who know me by name as soon as I walk in. My boyfriend knows the hour drive like the back of his hand and my mom is never surprised when she gets the call that I am there once again. I am sure my bosses are tired of the stack of doctors notes that continually get thicker and thicker. I know my son must be tired of hearing "I'm sorry, but mommy is sick today" almost every day. I know I am. I feel so hopelessly lost in these physical ailments that have become not something that I am going through, but who I am. I wasn't always this way, but for the last 3 years my life has become a stream of pills, IVs, hospital stays, fights to obtain medicaid or some kind of financial help to ensure I can get out of bed, doctors, questions that can never seem to be answered, and symptoms that can never seem to be diagnosed. I got pregnant with my 3 year old son and had a very complicated pregnancy from the beginning. Morning sickness started at 4 weeks and lasted until even after I had him, then there were the nosebleeds, migraines, unbearable back pain, acid reflux, heartburn, bladder problems, swelling, anemia, hallucinations, panic attacks, mood swings, dizziness, high blood pressure, heavy breathing, cramps, vision problems, problems focusing and concentrating, insomnia, but chronic fatigue during the day, etc. Almost any possible problem you could have, I had it, and have every since then. Maybe it's related, maybe it's coincidence, either way I am deathly afraid of having another baby. I thought things would improve after having him, I had no idea how wrong I was. And this starts my struggle. At first I thought my body just needed time to heal, just some recovery time, but the normal 6 weeks turned into 6 months which then turned into years. The doctors optimism that I would improve turned into confusion and even literally disbelief that my problems even existed. Some sympathize with me and try to help, some think it's all in my head, some may even think I am hoping for the next strongest narcotic, when really all I want is the live a normal life that any other 22 year old should be able to live. Maybe not "normal" since normality doesn't exist and there is no real definition to being normal, I guess what I want is functionality, physical and mental. I want to excel at my job, I want to go to college and do amazing at it, I want to be a wonderful mother to my son, a good daughter and a great sister, a best friend, and the perfect girlfriend. I want to laugh more than cry and be able to say that sometimes I feel incredible instead of wincing in pain simply because I have to get out of bed. For some reason, this has all been ripped away from me. I do believe in God and I believe He has reasons for everything and plans for everyone, but i find it so hard to live my life this way every day. I hate it that I have to constantly pop pills just to get through the day. I feel like a lab rat they test every new drug that is supposed to help whatever unknown disease I have at the moment. I hate it that usually these drugs have worse side effects than any benefits. I just want someone to care enough to really find out what is wrong with me and the help me, is that too much to ask? I just want help. I spent 2 years in Georgia coming up with a treatment plan. I even spent a week in a mental hospital and had a psychiatrist modify all my medications and schedule times to take each one. Why I was there is a completely different story, but to feed your curiosity I do suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder. Still no solid diagnosis, but at least a treatment plan for my symptoms which I followed religiously, even setting alarms on my phone to make sure I took the right pill at the right time every day and never taking more than prescribed. I took Tramadol up to 4 times a day for pain(including menstrual cramps, bladder pain, and back pain), I took Adderall in the mornings for chronic fatigue, xanax only if I had panic attacks, depakote before bed as a modd stabilizer, elmiron for my bladder disease(interstitial cystitis). I move here, to Louisiana, and can't seem to find any doctor that will fill those prescriptions and instead we start all over with the guinea pig process. The worst part is when they look at me like I just want the pills. Taking narcotics may fun for people who don't truly need them, but it is devastating to absolutely have to take them to be able to function in every day life and I would do anything to live a life without pain and without pain prescriptions. There are also the doctors who think it's all in my head, that I'm just crazy, or overstressed and letting my emotions cause physical ailments. I will say that I do struggle with mental illness, but I am also well educated and very in tune with my body so I know when I am depressed and it is intensifying my pain or fatigue. I also know that I am definitely not depressed every day of my life so that is not the reason for my problems at all. I have also come a long way in battling my mental diseases and have a huge decrease in problems related to that. In fact, a lot of my stress leading me into anxiety or depression is now because of how difficult it has become for me to deal with my physical illness instead of the opposite. Every morning I open my eyes I begin dealing with these problems. My first waking thought is that I should take my Tramadol as soon as possible to numb my chronic back pain before it disables me from getting out of bed period. I am scared that I may run out of meds and will not be able to make it through the night at works. The reason for my back pain is still unknown. The most given diagnosis is nerve damage from the epidural needle stabbing into my spinal cord when I had my son, which would make sense since this is when this started, but I have also gotten Fibromyalgia, and other diagnosis having to with where my muscles connect to my bones. Of course they cannot seem to find anything on XRay, MRI, or any other test. Every diagnosis I receive is one that can't proved, can't really be tested for, really more of a guess since no one knows the causes, and there is never a cure, just an array of treatments that have worked for some patients in some studies yet have so many side effects most aren't taken anyway. Same thing with my constant exhaustion. It has been attributed to Fibromyalgia, depression, and most recently Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. My hormones have also remained imbalanced since having my son, they just decided not to go back to normal which doesn't help with my mental stability. I hemorrhage during menstrual cycles to the point of passing out from blood loss. I wake up and find bruises covering my body. I have random days full of joint pain where it hurts to walk on my feet, bend my fingers and toes, bend over, or bend my knees to walk at all. I have days my back hurts so bad that I can barely stand yet if I sit down the pain travels into my tailbone only making things worse. I bend over and can't get back up. Did I mention I was 22? I have debilitating migraines lasting 1 to 3 days complete with throwing up the entire time, this includes even water. I can't open my eyes bc any amount of light makes it feel as if my head might explode, same thing applies to any semi-loud noises. I have had so much pain behind my eye that I actually had a conversation with myself in my head over whether I should just try to pull my ye of of its its socket to try to relieve the pressure against it-it's not like anything could be more painful that what is already happening anyway. I throw up until my throat bleeds and when the nausea finally recedes it hurts to put food in my stomach bc at this point my tummy thinks food is some kind of foreign object invading my body. I pee blood quite frequently and sometimes puke blood too. My bladder swells to the point that I look exactly the same as I did at 4 months pregnant. This causes me to have cramps in my bladder, menstrual cramps, and abdominal cramps all in one. My weight fluctuates constantly. I go from being anemic and back to normal constantly for no known reason, but am always too pale, easily bruised, and completely exhausted regardless. Life is hard, it's always a struggle, but mine becomes unbearable at times. I see that my apartment is dirty and I need to clean it but I am too tired to get out of bed or just the thought of the pain I will feel while trying to bend over and pick up dirty laundry off the floor prevents me from doing anything about it. My son asks me to carry him to bed and I have to tell him no bc my back hurts. Or I have to ask Jarrel to buckle him into his carseat bc I can't even lift him that far. I have no motivation bc of the exhaustion. I lose entire days spent in bed with awful back pain that sometimes even my prescriptions won't cure or completely debilitated from a migraine. I spend hours in the bathroom throwing up every ounce of substance that I swallow. I have to make that dreaded call to work explaining once again that I can't make it. I have to cancel date night with my boyfriend. Sometimes I have to take too many meds to function just to avoid the pain and the trip back to the hospital. I lose money by missing work and then spend money that I don't have to try to pay for prescriptions so that I can return to work. I am scared of applying to school bc I don't want to miss so much that my grades start to slip. I hate it that people think I am just lazy or unmotivated of full of excuses, because for every one thing I don't accomplish each day I kick myself for it, I blame myself for not trying hard enough even though in all reality I know there really wasn't much else I could have done.I feel like I could be a better mother and spend more quality time with him if I could get out of bed or not be in pain. I feel like I should be able to do more around the house. I feel like I should be able to help my boyfriend out more instead of always being so needy. I feel like I could be more reliable at work. I feel like I have so much potential that is wasting away bc I am stuck inside this body that shouldn't be mine. I just want someone to listen to me and to help me. I just want a doctor that cares enough to care, but sometimes that just seems like I am asking too much. And I stay up all night on nights like these trying to figure out what to do next and worrying too much to sleep as the tears fall in a constant stream of hurt, of pain, of feeling of being lost, alone, and hopelessness, and of fear of what tomorrow might bring. But i know it doesn't matter what time it is now bc I will be just as exhausted if I go to bed now(after 3am) or if I went to bed a t 9. The one good thing I can say is that I have realized who my real friends are, who really cares, and i am so thankful for all the friends and family I have here supporting me now and for those who helped me in the past. God has blessed me with so many wonderful people in my life at exactly the times I needed them the most and I am forever grateful for that. I may be suffering now, but one day I will be stronger for it and I will get to where I want to be in life. I can see my dad telling me that if he were here.

Does Beauty=Happiness?? Not at All...

Why is it people automatically associate beauty with happiness? So much of the time people look at me and they tell me how pretty I am and somehow in their mind they believe that I'm happy, that everything in my life must be just right because if that weren't true, if I had ever suffered in my life surely the pretty would have disappeared from my face, the beauty would have left my very soul and my mouth would be immobilized to anything remotely resembling a smile. The truth is that I suffer, I feel pain, I hurt, I am even tormented on the inside at times. I have learned to cover my tear stained face with a variety of cosmetics and to hide the sadness, the anger, the fear with a smile; if only you knew to look past the make up, past the fake smiles, to really look into my eyes, you would see the truth, you would come to realize that the happy twinkle in my pretty eyes is actually tears I'm trying my best to hold back. People look at me and they say "what a pretty girl" and they fail to see past the surface. They can't see what the mirror reveals to me. If anything pretty makes things worse, it blinds people from seeing the real person inside. For a long time I thought that was my only good quality so i used my appearance to get attention, to be liked. I looked happy, confident, content, like i had everything together when in reality I was falling apart and beginning to hate myself more and more on the inside. It took me awhile to realize people liked me for the wrong reasons. Beauty is like a decorative case, it doesn't matter how pretty it may seem on the outside, the true value is based on what you find inside. So many people just don't take the time to look deeper than just skin deep and fill themselves with their own assumptions. Just because you think I'm pretty doesn't mean I'm not in pain. Pretty can make me feel so alone.

Dr. Bitch

After going through pretty rough patch with my BPD, I am finally doing better. I am happy for the moment.

This last time was pretty severe and unfortunately there are some pretty shitty doctors here that I have available to help me. This disease is very much misunderstood, misdiagnosed, or in some cases, nothing at all is known about it. And on a side note here, if you are a doctor and you know nothing about it, please do not try to act like I am wrong in the information I give you. Do yourself some good and fucking learn something so you can help. Help by the way, is a focal point of your job!

I went to the ER thinking they would admit me, as has happened in the past, and that was my intention. Why? Because I was that bad off and when I am that bad I hurt myself and I hurt other people. I was trying to prevent that.

The first three doctors I talk to are all for having me committed. I tell them what is wrong with me, tell them that I am having manic episodes and haven't slept, that I am paranoid, that I am having breaks with reality, that I most definitely would hurt myself, and show that I already have. For some reason the final decision depends on the last doctor I see, we'll call her Dr. Bitch.

Even the first impression of her was bad. Jarrel was told by the nice doctor to stay with me and to not leave me alone. Dr. Bitch walks up to us and the first thing out of her mouth is giving him instruction to go back to the lobby. He tells what he was told very politely and she looks at him and tells him "that's fine, but I am telling you to go to the lobby." He leave and she talks to me about everything going on. Not only does she make it look like I am a burden for her to have to treat that night, but she also makes me feel like it is somehow my fault, like I chose to feel this horribly!

Dr. Bitch proceeds to tell me that I should have come during business hours and that instead I showed up on a Friday night. If I really would have cared, I would have been there sooner.

My thoughts on this will be italicized. It's a hospital! Hospitals are 24 hours therefore they do not have "normal" business hours. I didn't realize you weren't actually supposed to go to the 24 hour hospital past 5. And did she ever think that maybe I didn't have anyone to bring me until after business hours because they work those hours?

She asks why I hadn't come before now if I had been feeling like this for a couple days. She says that I should have come sooner and that she can't help me now.

I thought that maybe the feelings would pass. I never know exactly how long these episodes will last. If it were to go away in a day them this decision would have been a bit extreme. Is this anyones first choice? How many times does someone admit themselves on the first day their depression sets in? It's an extreme measure to take and should be used in extreme cases. And I'm pretty sure she would have been the first to tell me this had I been there a couple days earlier.

She tells me that hospitals are closed and she cannot admit me anywhere tonight. She tells me she is sorry that I don't feel good.

Mental hospitals also do not operate by "normal" business hours. I know because I have been in one. And don't feel good makes it seem like I have a fucking cold.

She asks what medication I am supposed to be on and every time I name one she tells me it will cause me to be suicidal. She tells me she will not prescribe any medications because I could go home and overdose on them.

She is actually what is making me suicidal. And if she really believes I may overdose then she has to believe that I am suicidal which means I meet the criteria for needing to be hospitalized. Also, if I wanted to overdose I have plenty of other bottles of medicine at home I could overdose on. Next time, I will be sure to take them first, then go to the ER.

She goes on to tell me that if I really want help I will go to mental health clinic first thing at 8:00 Monday morning. She brings Jarrel back and tells him not to leave me alone all weekend.

If I really need help I will go to the hospital precisely when I need the help. She apparently believed Jarrel should also operate on business hours because she acted like I was lying to her when I told her he worked on a weekend.

She leaves and I am having a horrible panic attack complete with hyperventilating and shaking so bad I can barely sit in my seat. The nice doctor comes back and apologizes and gives me some numbers to call and a hug. Why couldn't Dr. Bitch be more like that? By the time I left, I really just wanted to go home and slice my wrist open and return to the hospital just to spite her.

This is the worst feeling in the world. What do you do when the health system completely fails you? I felt terrified of making it through the next day. Thanks to lots of valium and friends that care I made until I could get to a doctor that knew what he was doing.

It's so sad how people that have mental health issues can be treated so poorly. Mental disease is just as real as any other disease and can be worse in some cases. Real treatment is needed to get through it, it can't just be ignored and expected to get better.

Notes of Love

This is written to my loving boyfriend:

"I think you might be my guardian angel. I look back at all I have gone through since we met and every time I have gone through something that made me feel as if I couldn't make it, you were always there to help me through it all whether we were together or not. All these years not only have I never stopped loving you, but baby I still needed you. I wouldn't be who I am without you nor would I have the strength that I do. You have showed me what true love is and all the times I didn't think I could possibly make it, you carried me through on wings of love. I love you, I need you, I couldn't live without you. Baby, you save me. Thank you."

The Gift of Love

‎"love is so powerful that even tiny little doses of it are enough to overcome the pain of the worst things life can dish out"

Amidst all the pain and suffering I constantly live with, I am also blessed with so much love. Love is the reason I have made it this long. Even the smallest acts of love have carried me through the darkest moments. I have always been lucky to have wonderfully supportive people in my life. I have and had have some amazing friends that may never know how much they actually helped me to decide to keep living. I have mixed feelings on my family, but I do know they love me and there are certain times in my life I couldn't have made it without them.

I am forever thankful to have the two people closest to me in my life right now, my son and my boyfriend. My son has given me a reason to live. Even if at times I believe no one needs me, that everyone is better off without me, I know my son needs me. He gives me a reason to exist in this world and to fight through the pain. I make mistakes sometimes and sometimes I may not be there emotionally like I feel I should be, but I love him with all my being and do everything I can to let him know that. I try my best to make sure he has a much different childhood than I did. I want to protect his childhood innocence and that happy sparkle in his eye only kids have until he is ready to grow up and see the world for what it is. I never want to rip that part of him away as it was done to me. I may not be perfect, but I believe love is enough.

And I have my amazingly patient and forgiving boyfriend. Most guys would run away as fast as they can; he holds my hand and walks me through the hardest moments of my life and when I can no longer hold myself up, he carries me through. I am not sure where I would be if I didn't have his love and his strength to rely on. I finally feel secure in a relationship, I have not yet gotten rid of the feelings of worthlessness and I will never know what I did to deserve someone like him, but I have security and I have love. I couldn't ask for anything more.

And I never take for granted all the smallest gifts of love I get from people who care, whether it be a phone call to check on me or even an email, because it's the small simplistic things in life that really matter and the thought behind it is anything but small. When I look back at all the people who have been put into my life during the darkest times, I think they were placed there for a reason. I don't think I would be where I am now without them, nor could I continue to make it through this. And when I had no one at all, I had God. Never have I been as truly alone as I feel on the inside. I am still not to the point of believing this, but I will get there with time. Even my son's father, who has every right to absolutely hate me, has become my best friend and is very helpful in me getting better. Unfortunately, I realize more and more how much of our failed marriage is my fault, how much my disease destroyed us, yet he still cares about my wellbeing and I am utterly grateful. I am grateful to have found such a great friend through all the tragedy surrounding us and I am grateful that my son has this kind of person as his father. I may be blind to this again tomorrow, or even in a few hours, but I have been truly blessed and I have a lot to be thankful for.

Temporary Happiness

Lately happiness seems to be just out of arms reach. Sometimes I think I was never meant to be happy, maybe it's just not part of who I am. Maybe there's some kind of happy gene God left out when He made me. Maybe I'm just not good at being happy or maybe I don't even know how. Sometimes I think I am scared of true happiness because I know it will only eventually be ripped away from me. Maybe I don't deserve to be happy anyway and all my misery is my own fault. From the outside looking in, you would never know, would never see the pain I hide on the inside. I'm so good at fake smiles, at false acts. I'm a pro at putting on a happy facade. When it comes to actually being happy, I just can't do it. It doesn't matter how much practice I have had at fake happy, real happy just seems so unnatural to me. Real happy is so...temporary.

More Poetry

Misery

Pain courses through me,
Like shards of glass
Running through my veins.
My mind is poison,
Slowly killing me.
My head is crazy,
Thoughts make no sense.
Emotions out of control,
When will it end?
Happiness is only an illusion,
Dreams too far out of reach.
There is no hope, no trust, no true love.
No one can save me,
I'm already in too deep.
My smile is broken,
My heartstrings detached.
Maybe it was always me?
Maybe I was too crazy to see?
So many tears,
Flooding behind my eyes.
So much despair,
Hiding behind my smile.
Sometimes it seems
The only solution is just not to breathe.
No air means no pain,
No more constant misery.
No oxygen, no life,
No more problems for me.

Anger

So much filth that flows forth from your mouth,
Never know what to believe,
What's real or made up for your personal needs.
Fuck your opinions,
Your mindless thoughts don't mean shit to me.
I'll slice your tongue from your mouth,
Just to silence the sound of nonsense and shit pouring out.
I'll rip your vocal chords from your throat
And wrap them around your neck until your words are no more.
I hope your cancer eats your brain
Out of your self assured head.
And rots you cold heart from the cess pool
Known as your body.
You're fucking trash and I have news,
Where you sit in this life is not on a pedestal.
You fell off long, long ago.
You're life is shit, go slit your wrists.

Thoughts on Life

When is it that life gets so complicated? It's as if one day you wake up in the morning and everything simplistic seems to have gone away overnight. Much like a child's innocence. When is it all hopes and dreams get so lost in this midst of confusion we call life? There are no fairy tales, there is no happily ever after. Relationships don't turn out the way you imagined, people you love the most tend to disappoint you the most, and sometimes you realize the biggest disappointment in your life can be yourself. There always seems to be one new problem and one less solution with every day that passes. Most dreams don't come true while you are awake. There is no such thing as wish upon a star, and if there is, all the wishing stars have fallen from my sky.

Poetry

Slit my wrists

With shattered glass

Broken within me

From pain unsurpassed

Slice through skin

Sever veins that keep me alive

Watch blood pour

As it drains away my life

Wrap your hand around me

Tighten your grip on my throat

Feel my heart stop beating

Smile sweetly as I choke

Kill me with your kiss

And the love we once made

Cut through my arteries

With love's serrated blade

Torture me with cruelty

And malevolence I deserve

Lobotomize my body

Baby kill every last nerve

Poetic

More Poetry

Why can't these thoughts stay out of my head?
Stay away and stop making me wish I were dead
Why can't I keep from slicing my skin?
Find another way to get rid of all the pain I hold within?
Why do I enjoy watching myself bleed?
Why do I feel like it's something I need?
I hate myself for my weakness
For the blood that pours
And the tears that fall
For wanting to end it all
I hate myself for hurting me
For hurting others
For the thoughts in my head
For wanting to be dead
Someone love me, help me, need me please
Because I'm scared
I don't wanna have to bleed and cry
I don't wanna die
I'm sorry I was never good enough
Sorry for not being tough
For all the pain I've caused
For being worthless and broken
I promise I'll try harder
Please just make it go away
Give me a band aid
For the cuts I just made
Because I don't wanna die today
___________________________________________________________________________

Razor blades slash
All exposed skin
Bodies covered with scars
Bleeding with rage from within
Lips turn blue
Skin fades to gray
Tears frozen forever
As hearts decay
Look into unseeing eyes
Rotting in their sockets
Gently part rigid lips
Kill me with your icy kiss
Disembowel you as you die
Rip out all you have inside
Break me baby one more time
And I'll break your heart with this knife
Promises always broken
Hurt that will not mend
Nothing lasts forever
Love is death in the end

____________________________________________________________________________

Tales From the Terrible Twos

There is never a dull moment with a toddler running around.

Here is an incident from when my son was 2 that was in an older blog but I will share it on here, just in case another mother of a 2 year old needs a laugh.

One day I was trying to get ready to go to the mall and as I am straightening my hair Christopher runs downstairs and into my room in a frenzy, just like every time he makes a huge mess, and says to me "Oh No!" very enthusiastically. I follow him up stairs to see what the problem is and as we are going up the stairs I notice his diaper is missing. I immediately begin to dread seeing what is upstairs. He points and says "pee pee" at the huge puddle of pee in the middle of the kitchen floor, what he fails to mention is there is also a nice pile of poo right beside the pee. I go to grab him so I can get a diaper on him to ensure this does not happen again and he runs away, not wanting another diaper. He runs right into the puddle of pee and steps in the poop before slipping and falling right on his back with pee splattering everywhere. So my kitchen floor is pee splattered and covered in poopy footprints. I thought stuff like this only happened in the movies. Who knew? Needless to say instead of spending the evening shopping, we both hopped in the shower and then cleaned the hardwood floors in the kitchen.

Deja Vu

This is an entry I wrote a little over a year ago when I first discovered exactly what was wrong with me and decided to start fighting it:

I just got done reading the book "Sometimes I Act Crazy: Living With Borderline Personality Disorder" and this book is like a road map of my entire life. You may be thinking that this is good bc it can help me deal with all my problems or give me an explanation of the way I am, but it only serves to further confuse me. I know I am a little crazy and I know why, those questions are not the ones I need answered. What I have realized after reading this is I really have no idea who I am at all. While it answers why I follow the same self destructive patterns and what causes this particular disorder it fails to help me understand how much of what I do is actually me or this disorder? It is like watching an episode of Lost, once one question is answered, there are about 100 more that are brought up and left unanswered.

I just can't figure out how many of the decisions I make or thoughts I think are actually me or just fit into this crazy borderline pattern that has consumed my life? How many of my actions were made as if I were on autopilot by this disorder? How many of the emotions I feel are really real and true? I cannot separate myself from this. My moods are so sudden and extreme and my personality so volatile, how do I know which one is me? I don't know where to look inside myself to find out. My whole life I have known I had problems, I know I need therapy, I know I'm not normal, but coming to terms with the severity of it and realizing this is not going to be easy to fix at all, is hard! I feel like my whole world just came crashing down on me and now I have to sort through all the broken pieces. I have to do something, I am hurting myself and I am hurting the people around me and I can't go on like this.

So this is day one of my journey to try to find myself and finally fighting back to overcome Borderline Personality Disorder, wish me luck.

Poetry

Most of my poetry is pretty dark, probably even disturbing to most people, but it helps me get out all my feelings of anger and sadness. Here's the first one I am posting:

Sear the flesh from my bones
Tear muscle from skin
Mutilate pieces of my broken heart
Set aflame worthlessness I hold within

Stab needles in my eyes
So there are no tears left to cry
Disconnect vocal chords from my throat
So there are no words left to lie

Rip my fucking heart out
Inject poison into my veins
Damage all my nerves
Watch me writhe as my body strains

Dislocate joints from their sockets
So I can no longer reach for love
Infect my soul with your evil
So I am rejected from above

Flood my mouth with blood
Fill my nostrils with the scent of death
Steal the life from my ravaged body
Because without you I have nothing left

Mania

Lately I have been manic. Mania to me is harder to deal with than the anger and the depression. I have learned to deal with the other two extremes, this however is much different and I have no idea what to do when it overcomes me. It throws my feelings into an emotional current, washing up different emotions every few minutes and sometimes washing them together into a blur of raw emotion. I have so many racing thoughts that I have no control over and I can't possibly sleep with all this going on inside my head.

I write because it is therapeutic to me and also helps me understand my own feelings, which are usually not at all rational. This is something I wrote during one of the many nights I was wide awake with this constant flow of thoughts:

Sometimes I feel so empty on the inside. Like the emptiness might swallow my entire being. It's like instead of there being organs inside of me like everyone else, there's just nothing there at all. And I am scared of empty, scared of lonely; scared of the feelings I work so hard to keep on the inside, scared of who I might really be. Sometimes I cry and cry and have no idea why. Sometimes I truly believe the sky might fall right on top of me, crushing everything around me I believe to be real. Sometimes I wish I could just die. Surely everyone would be better off. Sometimes I feel trapped in this life because I could never actually die due to the people around me that need me. I fear becoming like my mom. Weak. Dependent. But aren't I already? As much as I like to think I am different, I'm turning into her. I had rather die. I feel like I am losing touch with reality. Completely losing it. I wonder if I'll ever recover? I don't think I could live life without pain, pain has become so familiar is is almost like a comfort to me. I want to scream until there is no more air left in my lungs, I want to bleed until there is no blood left in my veins, I want to cry until all my tears have dried up. I want to break until I can't be put back together, the glue holding me together seems to wear thin more and more everyday anyway. And lately I just want to bleed. Need to bleed. Need the calming numbness that comes with the flow of blood. I want to feel the pain. Anything is better than the deep hurt I hold inside. Somehow, deep down, I'm still screaming for help and for some reason I still hold some kind of hope that I may find it someday. Once that hope is proven wrong, I'm not sure how I'll make it.

"Sometimes I try to hold my breath until I pass out...succumbing to the realization that I no longer want to breathe..."

The Roots of My Struggle

I remember a time before the chaos that now manifests itself inside of me. There was once a time when I had two loving parents and when a house could actually feel like a home. I once still had a shred of innocence inside of me and reveled in the happy oblivion only a child can posses. I once felt completely and totally loved. I once was able to only worry about the simple things that kids worry about instead of worrying about whether I should have even been born. Once upon a time I was pure and full of joy.

BPD is what resulted from having all of this ripped away from me. It didn't happen all at once. I didn't wake up one morning with mental illness as if it were a cold I had suddenly caught. It was slowly instilled in me by a series of traumatic experiences and a childhood full of pain. Over time I grew worse until this disease controlled my life.

After making countless mistakes and bad decisions, I finally decided that I was going to get better. Today, I am not at all recovered, but I am slowly working towards it. I still have fallbacks, I still lose control at some points in my life, and sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the pain of my past that I feel I can't make it any longer, but I am better than I was a year ago when I discovered exactly why I am the way I am.

I always knew something wasn't right. I knew my thoughts, my feelings, my actions, and my reactions were not those of a normal, sane person. I also knew that for some reason, even if I knew this, I could not seem to control them. My moods were all over the place day to day and I had no idea why. I would burst out in tears for no known reason, I would rage at the people I loved the most and never understand why I harbored such anger for these people, and sometimes I would feel absolutely ecstatic and like I would never be sad again, only to start the cycle all over again. I never realized all the horrible experiences in my life had amounted to this. I knew it had to have caused some kind of psychological problems, but never had I dreamed it was to this extent.

I was misdiagnosed many times and was put on so many medications that only made me worse with the severe side effects. I was confused and scared I would never be "normal". I finally started searching for the answers myself.

When I found the description of BPD online I couldn't believe it; everything I read described the never ending battle I was fighting on the inside. Upon reading the bleak prognosis for recovery, I tried to deny the facts. I couldn't be that bad off, could I?

Think about having, to a certain degree, multiple personalities, being bipolar, and also schizophrenic all at the same time. This is how it feels to be a borderline. It used to be believed that there was no recovery for this disease. Therapists today still choose to refuse borderlines at times because they are so exhausting and unpredictable. The most severe schizophrenic is preferred over the borderline. It can take up to 5 years in therapy to recover and rarely less than 3 years minimum. The suicide rate is 10% and insurance companies opt out of paying for therapy once diagnosed.

Over the last year, I have tried to gain as much knowledge as I possibly could about my illness and I have put forth every effort to use this to try to help myself. With the help of doctors, medicine, and the wonderful people I have in my life, I have managed to make a lot of positive changes. I still have a long, long way to go; the road to recovery is just as scary as it is exciting, but I won't give up until I am where I want to be.

The "Crazy" Criteria

I thought that I should describe exactly what Borderline Personality Disorder is for those of you who don't know to give a better understanding of exactly what I am going through. I don't let most people get close enough to me to see what I hold inside. The criteria you are about to read is like a roadmap though my entire life. A pattern I can't seem to escape.

BPD Criteria

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment.
2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.
3. Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self image or sense of self.
4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self damaging (ie. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating, etc).
5. Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, threats, or self mutilating behavior.
6. Affective mood instability and marked reactivity to environmental situations (ie. intense episodic depression, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and rarely more than a few days).
7. Chronic feelings of emptiness.
8. Inappropriate intense anger, or difficulty controlling anger (ie. frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights).

BPD Checklist:

• Traumatic childhood experiences (especially physical or sexual abuse).
• Self sabotaging behaviors (such as ruining a job interview or destroying a good relationship)
• History of disappointing jobs, relationships, or other commitments.
• Frequent changes in jobs, schools, majors, and relationships (several divorces, separations, and remarriages).
• History of hurtful relationships (ie. relationships with alcoholics or any abusive relationship) or relationships with narcissistic controlling partners that result in conflict.
• Utilization of transitional objects (ie. relying on teddy bears fro comfort).
• Sexual confusion (ie. bisexuality).
• Dangerous behavior that may be perceived as exciting (ie. drug abuse, promiscuity, shoplifting, bulimia, etc.).
• Frequent conflict, especially with important figures such as bosses, colleagues, friends, or family.
• Repeated history of violence either as perpetrator, victim, or both.
• Severe changes in attitude (ie. idealizing a friend and later hating him).
• Attraction to extremist organizations such as religious or political cults.

The Girl Behind the Smile ~ My First Entry

"Borderline Personality Disorder is the monstrous, metastatic malignancy of psychiatry."

I am a mother to my 3 year old son and the girlfriend of a wonderful guy I have no idea what I did to deserve. I have a lot of friends and have no problems making new ones at any point in time. I am smart and do well in school and at work. I have what most people consider to be a great personality and I always have a smile on my face.

On the outside, it looks like I have the perfect life and many more reasons to be happy than to be sad, much less depressed. No one would ever guess the traumatic events I have endured. No one would think that deep down I am struggling to stay above the waves of depression and anger that threaten to drown me at any moment. No one would think that I would be one to struggle with serious mental illness. My entire life is a struggle. It is a struggle to even get out of bed on some days. I use my smile to hide the pain.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder.

I will be keeping a blog, more like a story, of my day to day life, recollections of my past, various writings, and also poetry. I am hoping to not only help myself make sense of the chaos I hold inside, but also to help those who are reading this who may be going through the same thing. This is not easy to write and will probably not be easy to read, either. At times it will be heartbreaking and others extremely graphic, but these are my thoughts and this is my life.

There are times I feel completely hopeless, but I know one day I will beat this disease. One day I will be able to pick up all the pieces and I will get through my journey to recovery.

And this begins my story...