A Sense of Hope

Was very heartened to get a comment on my last post from a reader who found my sense of hope "inspiring" and like to see my proactive approach to my condition. (thanks Stacy!) I worry sometimes - especially lately when I have been doing so well and am the closest to recovery that I've ever been - that people will find this blog to be saccharine and superficial. So it is good to hear that people in the world are finding some support and help in it.

When I started writing here in the fall of '09, I had just started my journey to recovery. I had just been diagnosed with BPD, although I has suspected it for a while and had displayed the symptoms for about 5 years. I'd been through so much before then, so much that I never shared anywhere, not even in my personal journals. The only record of those 5 hard years lies in my memory and a few small scars that never fully healed.

But when I started this blog, I was in a dark place again - I had limited functioning in the real world and barely left the house, let alone my bed. At my best times I was numbing my feelings with daily fast food binges and escaping reality with continually watching Grey's Anatomy DVDS; on my worst days I would take extra sleeping pills and a few shots of Vodka to lull myself into painless sleep.

I wanted to die, but knew I couldn't let that happen. The mental image of my family and friends at my funeral was frightening. So my only other option, if I wanted to survive (be it only to protect my loved ones from the pain of my death), was to fight.

So I did - I took that proactive approach; even though it seemed hopeless I did it anyway. I got evaluated and diagnosed. I started seeing my counselor regularly. Even though I had little faith that it would help, going to therapy and group sessions at the mental health center were comforting, they soothed me almost as much as eating or drinking. There were setback, such as the fact that the DBT group in my area was on hiatus. So I bought a DBT workbook and did DBT on my own with guidance from my therapist and discussions with others in group therapy. Often I had to push myself to do things I just didn't feel like doing, like simply leaving my room to go out into the real world. Going to therapy and group was taxing on days when I was simply exhausted, so I had to push myself. And each time I did, it got a little easier. My therapist always seemed so impressed with my ability to work so hard to recover. But she hadn't seen the years I'd spent not recovering. And besides, I didn't have a choice. It was fight or die.

Which brings me to today. I'm not recovered, but I'm better than I've been in years. I'm thinking clearly, making decisions, I'm less emotional and more level headed. I've learned how to deal with some of the major problems that have tripped me up and ruined my life in the past five years. More than that, I have actually written plans on how to deal with them - specific steps and strategies to followed when I feel lonely or scared or someone hurt me.

So overall I welcome the sense of hope that I have now. It's been hard-earned and long awaited. And for years I didn't think it was possible to feel this way. But I know now that was one of the lies that BPD tells you. I know now that there is hope.

Case Closed...

...at least for now.

Had my last official meeting with my therapist yesterday. Was nervous going there, because I knew March was the time we had decided to review my progress and decide on the next step. Though I have been doing so well, the concept of "leaving" therapy and "going" out into the real world on my own is scare (yes, I realize its not that black-and-white, but sometimes it feels that way).

I was surprised and overjoyed for many reasons. First, she said that I have been doing so well that she couldn't see herself possibly making an argument for continuing my case. Second, when I told her that I indeed did feel much better in the way I was coping with things, she said that that is exactly what she calls the definition of mental health: being able to cope with things. With life. Finally, she stressed that even though my case is closed at the center, I can always call her and come in for a visit or just to talk, without going through the whole process of being evaluated and re-opening a case. I thought that was very kind and put me at ease.

I'm going off prozac and only having occasional tiny bouts of "tearfulness." (which is normal). I am walking out of a 6-month long session of CBT and DBT and group therapy. I am functioning, I would say, about 99% normal right now (we all slip here and there). I go to work everyday, I don't cry myself to sleep or hide in my bed right now, and life - though full of challenges that will come at me full speed in the next few months - seems like a good thing again. The gray-colored glasses that we see the world through when we are depressed have come off and I have clear sight again.

Don't misunderstand: I don't consider myself "cured." I still struggle with some of the aspects of BPD. For example, I still struggle with thinking in mostly black-and-white terms in relationships. I especially do this with men, and I think if I ever decide to have another romantic relationship, I will need to work more on dealing with this. But I've learned to fight against my emotions and control them rather than them controlling me. I've learned the process of thinking more logically. I've learned how to cope with distressing situations - I have several written plans on how to do so.

I think it will be quite a while before I can put BPD behind me and look at it as something I "used to have." Because of that and because I still have so much to learn and say, this blog will go on. But for now, life is stable, and I am happy to report how happy I am to have found the light at the end of my tunnel.

That Most Brutal of Teachers

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God, do you learn." - C.S. Lewis

Heard this quote a few weeks back watching reruns of Criminal Minds. And my heart heard it today.

Had a great therapy session this afternoon - talked about so much I literally came out shaking and was ready to try tears of relief and victory. We discussed splitting and anger and yesterday's episode of disassociation and whether or not my BPD will ever go away. ) I hope it will...)

But to me, the most important thing we discussed was something that happened a few days ago - someone laughed at me, said something rude and insensitive, and hurt me terribly. Today was the first time I talked about it; I even avoided calling a friend this weekend just because I knew it would come up and I didn't want to deal with it. I wanted to push it out because each time I thought about it, it made me hurt (aside thought: is this why radical acceptance is so important - so we can accept the bad things that have happened to us without hurting each time they pop up in our memory??)

But after spending yesterday in a state of derealization, I began reading the next chapter in my DBT book on interpersonal relationships. And it began by comparing a passive and an aggressive approach to your interactions with others. I checked off about an equal number of things on each list. In some relationships I am overly aggressive when I have to deal with a problem, and I lash out and hurt others and ruin things. In others, I bottle up my frustrations and hurt myself.

My most recent hurt let me see this concept in real life: In this most recent incident, I tried to calmly stand up for myself, and when that didn't work, I shrugged the person off and just walked away. Then I let my anger subside, told myself a coping though and worked out my feelings a few days later talking to my therapist. I could have made a scene, or I could have bottled the anger up inside and ignored it, letting it fester. But I didn't. And I learned that, though I have to work a lot on striking a balance between being too passive and too aggressive in my relationships with others, I am growing.

Hurts like that are brutal, the most brutal of teachers.

But we learn. My God, do we learn.