Just Another Day…
I really don’t know exactly what to say. Life has certainly taken me places I wasn’t expecting to go, has given me experiences and I never thought I would have, and given me feelings I wish I didn’t know about.
I moved in with R at his parents house in July of last year. We saved up money and rented a single wide trailer in August, and in January of this year had to move out. So we moved back in with R’s parents. That didn’t go so well. He had a car accident at the beginning of the year and totaled the car (he was okay though, not a scratch thank God). So, R’s dad took us to Knoxville so that we could buy another car. The problem is that his dad has it in his head that R has to have a certain kind of car with a certain amount of mileage and have it cost a certain amount. And not a good certain amount. He seems to think that the only cars that are worthwhile are expensive ones. Well, R’s credit is better than mine, but not good enough to get the kind of car that his dad wants him to get. Well anyway, we are out looking at cars and I’m trying to tell R that the one that his dad has picked out for us is too expensive, and with me losing my job and him starting a new one, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to buy such an expensive car until we know how things were going to work out with his job. His dad got angry with me and started talking to R (mind you, we are all in the same car, and R is sitting next to me in the back seat while his dad is driving) about how manipulative I was, that I need to have no say in the car he is going to buy, and that if I was going to continue in this regard, I would have to find someplace else to go. Of course, he wasn’t as nice as I just made it sound. He was really nasty about it, and there were other things that were said, and by the time he was done talking I was in tears and texting H to come get me and my things as soon as possible. R was really upset that I was leaving and tried to convince me not to go, but there is only so much verbal abuse I can tolerate, and with him starting this job the next week, I was going to be stuck all alone in the house with his mom (who is not much better, and can be worse) with no vehicle and no friends around. I mean, I feel bad enough about myself already I don’t need to hear demeaning comments about my mental status and how I’m so “f’d up” and that R would be better off not being with me and blah blah blah. So H came and got me and the majority of my things and I went to her house. R and I were texting each other until about 3am, which upset his dad to no end and pretty much told him he needed to get off the phone and stay off the phone. Well, R is a grown man who pays the cell bill himself, it’s in his name, but his dad is treating him like a teenager who has ignored his homework and chores to chat with his girlfriend. The next day, I borrowed H’s car and went to R’s parents house to retrieve the rest of my things, and R and some of his things as he decided that he would like to be with me. I found that quite awesome. Anyway, at the moment we are staying in H’s camper in her barn until we can save some money to get another place to live. They (H and BI) recently bought a minivan, so we bought their car from them so that R could have a way back and forth to work.
I’m used to having bad things happen to me. Bad things have happened my entire life. So you think I would be used to the upsets, disappointments and setbacks. Well, yeah, I kinda am. I can’t enjoy anything good about any given situation because I know that eventually the bottom will drop out and all hell will break loose. I know this, and have become familiar with this concept. The problem is I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of never feeling happy and content. Now, people that don’t know me and are reading this for the first time can say “it’s all in how you look at it”, or “if life gives you lemons, you make lemonade” or any of the other typical responses. But for me, it just isn’t that simple.
I suffer from BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) among a few other “mental illnesses”. Pretty much what it comes down to is that I’m F’d up in the head. Everything from my thought processes, to how I perceive a situation or comment or facial look or even a sigh, is completely whack. I have done all kinds of research on this and though I see how I fit into this diagnosis perfectly (out of the 9 criterion for diagnosis of this disorder, I have 9), I am powerless to change anything by myself. I have tried. And tried. And tried. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around basic concepts that everyone else gets with ease.
At this very moment in time, I am falling; have been falling for days now. I am feeling more empty, more angry, more depressed…I have been on just about every anti-depressant, mood stabilizer and anti-psychotic known to man. The problem is I haven’t found a therapist who deals with patients that have BPD. I haven’t had true counseling since I was 18, and that was when I was first diagnosed as having BPD. The problem is that medication alone cannot help. The medication can help with the depression or anxiety or whatever, but the underlying problem is still there. BPD cannot be treated with medication alone. It is treated by un-learning harmful thought processes, learning new ways to deal with different feelings, and establishing a core sense of identity. Not something you can do on your own. For that, you need a qualified therapist who has experience in dealing with patients with BPD, and from what I have found, takes years to accomplish.
At this point, I am feeling quite hopeless. I have been to numerous doctors and therapists and have been in hospitals and crisis centers, only to become just another name on a list of thousands of others that also need help. My experience with doctors of late has been (especially if you are in a hospital setting) you see your doctor for 5 minutes (if you are lucky) every other day (sometimes once every 3 days), and the rest of the time you are cooling your heels in the “day/activity room” until it is time to take night meds and go to bed. There are no group sessions, no individual counseling…most of the time the staff doesn’t even take the time to learn your name. You wear a hospital bracelet with your name and picture on it, and that’s how they identify you. It’s all just a very hopeless situation. You try to talk to someone, but they are busy with paperwork or answering phones, or even their own conversations with other staff members to pay you much attention.
In the past few days I have seriously considered checking myself into a hospital or something, because I know that when I start feeling the way I do now, bad things happen. But being in that kind of situation in a hospital can most times be more depressing. So you are torn between seriously wanting to get help to get better and live a more satisfying life without all the drama, and wanting to avoid the nameless treatment you receive in a hospital. I have dealt with this long enough, and I’m tired of feeling the way I do, tired of pushing people away, tired of not being able to relate to anyone, tired of my angry (and increasingly violent) outbursts, and tired of hurting those that I care most about. I’m just tired of it all.
