Obsessing and Depressing

I don't know if any of you deal with obsessions but lately I seem to be obsessing on a much larger scale than normal. I haven't posted in a few days, but I haven't been gone,as some of you know I have still been posting comments. I am here now trying to "break" my obsession before fiance and roommate get home. The last few days have been filled with it. I have been online all day and gotten sucked into the internet. I keep telling myself I am going to stop, do some art, take a nap, but as soon as I know it it's been 12 hours and I can't come back. I have been obsessed with a couple people who make vlogs, particularily one person, whom I don't even know, to the point where I sit and watch their video's, sometimes up to 100 in a row, sometimes the same ones over and over. They aren't even about anything relative to me, I gain nothing constructive from it, learn nothing from it. Today my obsession was with my mental illness, my borderline personality disorder, as it started. Which I think is ok to research. The best way to combat an mental illness is to first research and study yourself in it. But then I begin to see correlations with other things and it turns into a whole hypochondriac type thing. I was pretty sure at one point today that I am Schizophrenic. Some days its' art. I start to work on my art and physically cannot stop, even if I want to I can't get my mind off it and walk away. Some days I obsess about sitting on the couch, in my spot, to the point where I almost can't physically move if I tried, having to go to the bathroom so bad it hurt before I eventually removed myself. Yesterday a guy from the gas company showed up at the door, I saw him through the window while I was sitting at the computer desk and the dogs started barking. He stood there forever as I tried to hide in the corner and I was worried he was trying to get me or hurt me and I hid underneath the computer desk like a frightened child until he left, and even then for awhile after. I am so afraid of other people I am confined to my house but dying of being alone. I don't know what to do anymore. It's so hard living inside this head I can't even understand. The weirdest thing is if nobody had ever told me this behaviour was bad I may not even concentrate on it. I don't even know if I make sense anymore. All I know is this is the first time I have been able to "unlock" myself of my own free will, knowing that I need to stop and applying the measures to do so. I feel like I have symptoms that don't even exist to any disease and I talk about it and everyone says "oh that's normal" but to me those are the things that are "psycho". It just doesn't make sense. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. I got the feeling that Dr. R. doesn't really want to help me, none of them do, thats why I wasn't on the waiting list for a therapist even though I went through everything proper and have been waiting 7 months. I was totally honest with my doctor and she totally brushed me off as a drunk/addict, which btw I have never been accused of before, even by my last psychiatrist who knew about my drinking and smoking weed but she felt it was under control and not an issue. The new doctor thinks I should go to AADAC. I admit my drinking has become more so, and not for the right reasons but fuck I am telling you my symptoms and whats happening and it's getting blamed on my actions? Believe me I have been sober MANY a day and still had to deal with my mind melt overload. Nobody wants to help me. I am going to die out here. 7 months with nobody to even talk to or review meds and I am waiting again, how long this time? I think they want me to give up so they can deal with other people who are easier. I told my doctor I am hearing voices, not really but kind of. It's like there is a radio in my head and it's on a boring talk radio station, but ti's muffled. I can hear that people are talking but not what they're saying. It mostly happens at night and sometimes it's so annoying I become distracted. First she blamed this on drug and alcohol use then she said it's because of my Seroquel, that I am overdosing on it, well wtf? What is it? How can someone help me if they don't even listen to me! And there is nowhere else to go, there is nobody else here to talk to. I'm so afraid that one day I will give up every last shred of hope I am clinging onto and realize I can't be cured and nobody can help me and have nothing left to live for. I hate myself so much sometimes I just want to kick my own ass and beat some sense into me. I no longer have any confidence or self esteem. I don't deserve treatment I guess.

What's the Point of My Blog?

What is the point of my blog? The answer is, well I'm not quite sure anymore. It seems like I only blog when I am in crisis, or when I am feeling OK I only blog out of guilt that I haven't written. Or the fact that I don't want to be too depressing to anyone who actually reads this rubbish. I am not a talented writer so I am sure most of my posts are very uninteresting to most. The posts I write when I am miserable, anxiety ridden or even suicidal are the only posts that actually have any true meaning. I don't even feel like a real person when I'm not in crisis. I have become so familiar with pain and mental illness it almost seems to define me. Any other time I write I feel like a total fake. Don't get me wrong, I don't lie about anything on here, there is no need to. I just don't really know who I am when I'm not depressed. But to look back on only a deep black hole of my life and see nothing bright and shiny can actually cause me to have a panic attack, because as much as I feel I am defined by depression, mental illness, BPD- I don't want to be.
I have reasoned that I should still write as maybe one day I will be able to see some sort of pattern or improvement in myself but right now it's just nauseating. I have also reasoned that I should write for personal therapy, as I am still waiting to meet my new psychiatrist since I moved up to rural butt fuck nowhere (6 months down and one month to go) so it helps me get my feelings out in a way. Ir does seem unreasonable to me that I have had to wait this long. Before I moved here I was  hospitalize din the psych ward, went to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, was registered into Dialectical Behaviour Therapy but quit, was having one to two visits with my psychiatrist a week and not working, still in a very tender state. It feels to me like everyone just wanted to get rid of me, pass me off, because there is no way someone of my mental health should have been left unattended for seven months. I have had several instances of extreme use of drugs and alcohol, self-harm and suicidal ideations. I have to tranquilize myself with medications to keep going. On top of that I am trying to hold up a job, a relationship, and my sanity.
So what is the point of this blog? Nothing. I guess it eats up some of my time and distracts me momentarily, is that considered a coping mechanism? However sometimes reading my blog can trigger me too. I try not to read it too much, I try to wait until down the road when maybe I can start recognizing some things from what I write, but sometimes it's just easier to wallow in self misery.
In fact the best thing about this blog is my reading list, I love reading everyone elses blogs, feeling like I can relate to someone, but I have trouble humanizing other people too. I know there are a few of you who do read this, and I thank you (namely Sairs- thanks for your comments and support, you are lovely!) because I guess that is partially why I keep going.
I am wondering if I should share this blog with my psychiatrist? I know some of you have done so, I wonder if it is beneficial for therapy or just something my psychiatrist will use against me in some way. (Maybe that's paranoia). Anyways, I am going to post a poll and if anyone reads this could you please give me some insight on this matter either by poll or comments, then I shall decide the fate of Borderline Ballistic.

Christmas Was Saved, Just on Time for Me to Ruin it!

It was December 23rd and I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself because my family doesn't love me enough to want me around during the holidays. Then A. suggested we have Christmas anyways, by ourselves, between us and the two dogs and two cats how many more people do we need right? So the next morning (Christmas Eve) we did everything. We got up early and went shopping for presents, decorations, junk food, stocking stuffers, Christmas dinner and among other things, a tree! When we got it all home we realized the tree was not green with silver tinsel on it, but rather it was entirely made of silver tinsel- truly a disco Christmas! We decided to keep it because it is kind of odd and funny looking but still cute. We decorated and pigged out all night. Then I had to go to work for 4 hours in the evening. When I got back A. had a Christmas feast prepared, a stuffed roasting chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables- the works. We pigged out and watched holiday movies all night. We stayed up until midnight to open one present each and decided to open the ones my parents had sent because neither of us could choose which one to give each other first. It was really happy and we went to bed for a nice long sleep.

I woke up in the morning and arranged all of the stocking things, our stuff and all the toys and treats for the pets. We got up and opened presents then continued to pig out all day on junk food and leftovers so we didn't have to cook. We even had a paper plate set so we didn't even have to do dishes. Talk about preparing for laziness. It was really fun.

And then I happened......

I guess with all the rush and bustle of our last minute Christmas I was able to push some things aside and pretend. It was boxing day. I guess what I failed to mention in my last post was that the whole argument between me and A. was actually resulting almost exclusively from his actions. He has a problem, a big one. This is not one of my BPD catastrophizing and blowing everything up. It is a big deal. I guess it's not fair for me to say anything about the problem, except that it's a habit. A filthy habit that has gotten out of control and I can't take it anymore. He has quit doing other things with great ease but when it comes to something like our relationship he just doesn't seem to care. He says he loves me and he's sorry. But I have heard it so many times before it makes me feel stupid to believe it again. The difference between me and him is that I know I have a problem, I have a mental illness and it affects me daily. But I am trying, I search for resources to educate me and I search for help. I know I'm a god-damned mess most of the time but at least I try. I don't lie about. I hate being lied to. I told him that from day one and he has done nothing but consistently sneak around and lie right to my face. It's humiliating. I can't even tell anyone about it because they will judge him. Rather I let them judge me for being so angry at him all the time for apparently no reason. I look like the jerk. Because I am a sucker for punishment and I know I will continue to put up with it so I try not to paint him the wrong way or my people will try and split us up and then I will be alone. I am alone right now anyways. I told him I want to take a break. We're not really discussing it with anyone, but I am not wearing his ring and I kicked him out of the bedroom for awhile. I need my own space to decide what to do, and the last thing I want is to be physically intimate with him. I love him but he makes my skin crawl, does that make sense? I need someone who makes me feel special, not suicidal. My anxiety is through the roof and I can't wait until New Years Eve because I am going to get so shit-bomb hammered I forget the whole damn year!

I Had A Bad Day Again

Yesterday was a bad day, excruciating. It started out fine. I went to work. My fiance finally sold his poopy truck which is going to bankrupt us just trying to keep fuel in it. We have money again. But then I got home and I started drinking ALOT of alcohol. Then all my feelings just started pouring out of me like word vomit. It resulted in me flying into an extreme rage attack. I slapped my fiance accross the face, gave him his ring back and told him to get out. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and started cutting up my wrist real bad with a razor. I had absolutely no control over myself. He knows to be alarmed when I lock myself in the bathroom when I'm upset so he picked the lock and found me. And after I was such a monster to him he held me and got me through the night. I know he loves me, but I'm so afraid that one of these days love won't be enough. He's going to get sick of my violent rage and crazy antics and he's going to leave me. I think about it all the time.
During this whole event which lasted throughout the night I had texted my dad some very disconcerting text messages. So he's all in a tizzy today trying to pretend like he cares, but when I talked to him he said:
1.) He has been reading about my disorder.(Wow-you have the internet, big fucking deal. I guess you're an expert now.)
2.) That many people go their whole life without being diagnosed and wonder why they're different but never get treatment. Just like many people have ADHD and go undiagnosed and wonder why they can't concentrate or get organized. (Yeah, it's just like that. Except people with ADHD dont typically try to hurt/kill themselves because they are consumed by their symptoms.)
And to top it all off he said:
3.) If you really wanted to kill yourself you would have done it by now. Obviously something is holding you back.
Maybe it's just me, but WHAT THE FUCK? Who says that? It felt like he was trying to hurt me not help me. And for the record the first time I attempted suicide I didn't know what I was doing and just ended up making myself violently ill with a pill overdose, and the second time I got caught and taken to emergency because my fiance came home early and unannounced. My dad says I should get a hobby like making jewelry or painting. Cuz that'll make it all go away, what a cure! My family is fucking retarded and I pretty much hate them all. Keep in mind, my mother is diagnosed with severe depression and takes a cocktail of pills herself. And she tried to commit suicide when I was 13 and I had to witness her illness take form. But it's not allowed for me to be depressed, and especially not BPD. They are like scared of me now and pretty much refuse to acknowledge my mental illness.They have successfully ruined my day, my Christmas and my life. And they hate me but refuse to admit it.
Last year at Christmas I was super depressed, not yet diagnosed or on medication. I travelled home for Christmas and my brother called me a walking sob story and told me it was my own fault that my cat died because I am useless. (My cat Meowy-RIP- died December 3, 2009. My now fiance and I had just moved in together a few days prior, and I came home one night to find Meowy dead at the bottom of the stairs, poisoned by some rat poison he found in the crawl space.) It was horrible. It went on and on, a verbal lashing all directed at me, and nobody said a damn thing! NOBODY protected me. I started packing and was going to drive the 8 hours home right then but was faced with the blame of "causing a scene" and "ruining Christmas". This year I wasn't invited back. My dad said it's because I'm further away now which is true, we moved to the country and now it would be a 14 hour drive. But whatever, he got me home every year when I moved away or was off at school and now they don't want me anymore because nobody knows how to deal with me. Now that my brother and his gf moved back there, they can have their happily little family get-together and not be interrupted by my drama. And I don't even care. I have talked to my brother only a handful of times in the last year mainly at family functions, the ones I'm invited to (Funerals for the most part), so it would be awkward and uncomfortable for everyone else, and extremelly painful and emotionally damaging to me at the same time. I used to love Christmas, the food, the tree and decorations, the music and I don't even have any of that this year. The single decoration I put out is a snowglobe with a silver base and one lonely silver tree with white snow. It's quite simple but also kind of harsh looking- it seemed fitting.
I;m thinking I will go to the Mental Health Clinic tomorrow and show them what I've done and maybe they can get me in to see Dr.R sooner than February because obviously I am spinning wildly out of control again and that I need someone to talk to, I need my psychiatrist. If I don't post for awhile it's because they locked me up and I will be in there scratching my way up the walls trying to escape the mayhem!

BPD Shattered my Hope

My reason for creating this blog is to create some sort of community amongst fellow sufferers of Borderline Personality Disorder and any other associated disorders, mental illnesses, or people who can relate. There is alot of misconception and stigma attatched to mental illness and I am trying to fight it in my own way, by raising awareness, helping others and sharing resources so we can all try and get better. Many people say there is no cure for BPD, I'm not sure. But I know we can unite together and do everything we can to support each other in fighting this illness. I look forward to hearing from you and will take suggestions. It's scary to me to be doing this, so publicly, so bare. However I am not willing to be ashamed of an illness anymore, it's time for us to speak and be heard. I am obviously not a therapist, I speak solely from experience. I have had several hospital stays, voluntary and involuntary due to my own actions. I have been an Inpatient in the psych ward, and an Outpatient completing a 16 week full time program in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, another Dialectical Behavior Therapy group (that I begged to get into and just as quickly dropped out), as well as talk therapy on a regular basis with my psychiatrist. I recently left my psychiatrist and am on a waiting list to get in to see a new psychiatrist in the rural community which I moved to. This process alone has taken me four months and I am not due for my first appointment with my psychiatrist until February. That is 7 months of waiting. I have been officially diagnosed over a year ago with Borderline Personality Disorder and severe Depression and Anxiety Disorders. I take a cocktail of anti-psychotics and anti-depressants which often fail to do the trick. I use drugs and binge drink to excess when I am in crisis, anything to make the pain stop. Going to all this therapy just made me realize that I do have a label, I have symptoms of a disease, with no known cure. I can actively see myself doing things that are self-harming, irrational, compulsive, angry, and manipulative- but I can't seem to be able to stop myself. I want to be a good person, and have a good life and not just pretend to be that person, idealizing everyone else's life which in turn makes me feel depressed and worthless. I feel like I am being ripped off because I have BPD, can anyone relate?