Posts Tagged ‘borderline personality disorder’

I hate days when I end up craving the oblivion of narcotics and benzos. Today is a day when it feels like it’s all crashing around me. The last two-ish weeks have been really awesome. But without really thinking about it consciously, last night I crumbled beneath the weight of the fun. When I wonder when it’s all going to crash around me, it starts to.

When I start feeling guilty for making friends and having a life that is totally my own, I know how far I still have to go. When I feel trapped and cornered when the barriers are purely in my mind, it drives me even more insane.

So I break under the weight of small things, and the physical pain I’ve been experiencing and brushing aside for weeks flares with such intensity, I curse the stupidity of detoxing this year and wish I still had a bottle full of painkillers.

I napped over two hours this afternoon, a desperate attempt to ease my exhaustion and escape the pain for a while. Which worked while I was asleep, but now I can’t quite move. And not being able to move makes me panic. It means I am trapped.

And so the carousel continues to turn.

It’s the small realizations: how far I am from those I love, how foreign everything and everyone is here, how I still can’t, for the life of me, admit I feel like I’m dying from pain today. How innocent the other kids are here. And I realized yesterday that they really are kids, posing as badass miniadults. While I found it amusing and cute observing this, I can’t help but wonder at the badass stories of those who say nothing, but have the same half smile on their faces. And the thought I love most of all “what the fuck are you doing here, you’re just a whore”

Bleh.

Time to go lie in the grass to catch the dying rays of the sun.

I can hear my next-door neighbour play eisbrecher¬†http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=eisbrecher¬†.. who’s music I know, but who’s name I never knew before.

My ex in high school burned a cd with a bunch of metal, eisbrecher being one them. So hearing it again is awesome. I’m pretty sure its them who play this song where the middle breaks into the breathy heaving of a couple having sex.

My point is, being here, now, is like total deja vu. From the different personalities, to the conversations, to the lust-filled looks I see, to the music, to the language… everything.

This, for the most part, is good. Its like I’m reliving a path I originally became hopelessly lost on, and am now finding the right footing.

But there are times I wonder to myself what the fuck am I doing here? This mostly happens when I find myself craving a smoke or a drink or a pill in the worst way. And I catch those thoughts and wonder where they come from. Of course I know… It feels like I’m back where I was, just in a parallel sort of universe.

So by keeping clean, am I changing what was and shaping what will be? Ya, I think so.

Cause it would be really easy to slide back into what I knew. Already I can feel the subtle downturn in my mood. The miniscule shifting in my thinking. The presence of triggers waiting to erupt. The slowly bubbling volcano of rage within me.

And I wonder, how much longer I can take this.

I’m now almost a week in Israel. Which is awesome, and beautiful. And hot. Omg, the sweat. The heat sinks into your skin and clings to you, even in air-conditioned spaces. Worth it, totally. Even if I occasionally wonder why I thought it was a wonderful idea to come in the summer.

I think I’m finally getting the picture for God’s plan for me here. The earthly plan is for me to go to a kibbutz, study and work for a couple months. Which is not 100% precisely my idea of a vacation. BUT! I get why this is such a genius plan for me.

Basically, I need to know I’m capable. And I know, I really do know that I am a capable and functioning person now. This just throws me into life. Putting theory into practice. Cause that was a huge fear of mine for years — that I would forever be trapped in a drug addled mind only able to stare into space and act out in destructive ways.

I proved myself wrong on that front. But 1. I’ve never had a normal job. Was never capable of having one. 2. I tried and failed to go back to school. Several times. 3. I had no sense of worth.

The third point is the most important one. That’s taken care of.

Its the doing stuff that I (now) know in my mind I can do. I’m no longer functionally handicap (by which I mean I could pass, on occasion, for being like any other healthy person for short periods of time and a bit of creative thinking with what I said).

But being here, healthy, is weird. In a good way. But weird.

I went today to a village in the north to see some artwork. The same village where my family wanted to send me to ‘get better’. This was, like, 6 yrs ago. But they couldn’t deal with me. And I couldn’t even being to think of how I would deal with being around other people in a foreign country. I could barely leave my house. So that trip was spent pretty miserably. I thought I hid my rage well. I probably didn’t.

Last night, walking in the dark with my aunt, she asked me in a couple different ways what happened? how did I change? She came to visit my family 3 years ago. She pointed out that she could hardly talk to me, I was so out of it. Totally true. I also remember that at the time I put in massive effort to appear normal (functional). Also a fail.

It’s a really weird question to answer. What happened? I was raped again, moped around, and woke up.

Its the “woke up” part I have trouble explaining. I was made to be chemically brain dead by psychotropics and narcotics.

Yet, this is what I knew:

1. God was there while I was being raped. God loves me. God hates seeing me in pain. For once, I wasn’t angry at God.

2. My mind cleared once I realized I wasn’t angry. The zombie-making effect of the drugs left enough for me to really focus on and grasp the things I was compelled to research, some of which is somewhere on this blog in a rant. Something stuck, and pieces started falling together. I knew how fractured I was, and how, systemically, every part of my body and mind and spirit had been rapidly breaking down.

3. I finally found the will to live. This was different then my willingness to simply remain alive, and if I die… whatever. Everyone will be better off anyways, right? I began to burn with a desire to LIVE.

4. K, so, it took 6 weeks to detox. I was getting off everything at once, which was comparable to getting off herion and/or cocaine. And the psych-meds are supposed to take a couple years to totally leave the body before it’s able to rebalance itself. Six weeks. Seriously. At the same time I changed my diet, so I had the carb-flu at the same time. But I’m fine.

5. Really, God wasn’t there? How easy would it have been to give up, to go back to shit that would eventually kill me but that I was used to. This was before I managed to repair the fragmented parts of myself. Through the worst of my self-worthlessness, I’d remember almost dying, and God’s loving embrace. And the words that it’s not my time yet.

What happened?

Um. Transformation that has lead me here, to Israel. To accelerate an already rapid journey in becoming all that God intended.

I’m going through old CDs. I had to climb over piles of clothes (fell into them too, like falling into a messy and smelly cloud. tons of fun) to find them, dusty and hidden next to a stereo system that hasn’t been used since there was clear ground on my floor (clear ground meaning I could actually use it). That was maybe 3 yrs ago.

Anyways. I’m loading it all onto itunes, and then my ipod… The reason this mundane chore (of sorts) is so cool is that this is music I typically would have freaked out over.

It’s a mixture of Israeli music I grew up, and dark gothic/metal music. Both equally triggering for various reasons. The Israeli stuff would remind me of all my failures, my guilt, my shame (real or imagined, didn’t matter). The dark stuff… well, this is what I listened to in high school, where I was abused, committed for the first time into a psych ward, ramped up my self-injury, stopped eating, overdosed in school and got politely kicked out and sent to an alternative high school… etc.

So ya. These CDs have been collecting dust.

The pain associated is just gone. I remember, when I hear this music, images come to my head… Like having to get a pass from the hospital to sing and record music for my brother’s Bat-Mitzva. Having to get a pass to attend the event, where my asshole bf was invited. Which ended with my curled up in a ball outside crying in terror. Which ended with me back in the hospital, weirdly relieved. And completely crippled with the thought that I had ruined the event for my whole family. And completely ashamed at knowing everyone was aware of my brokenness.

One of my fav songs. My creativity is inherited. I got my voice from my dad’s side. I can hear my grandmother singing when I hear this. Makes me want to cry.

I saw my gp yesterday, since I’m leaving the country and all. I used to see her at least once a month (narcotic refills), sometimes more often cause there was always something physically broken with me (a reflection of my mental state).

She walks in, stops, and comments about how happy I look.

Yes. I am. But I wasn’t happy to be there. If I still took valium, you can bet I would have downed a couple.

She’s nice. A good doctor in that conventional way, where drugs are the answer for everything, and she thinks my getting off all my meds and firing my shrink is extreme. And I guess I can understand that. People diagnosed as bipolar and borderline aren’t exactly known for clear, rational thinking.

Anyways, I just smiled. I’m not gonna get into my issues with the pharmaceutical industry. Especially cause I know my words can be twisted into paranoia. And therefore I should take a mood stabilizer.

Whatever. I find it really triggering. So I was in that kinda antsy mood all day where I felt I had to shake myself off to feel better. I always feel violated when seeing a doctor.

My day turned out to be really awesome though. There’s a young adult service at church on tuesdays. My reserve is (incredibly slowly) crumbling. But considering I used to be unable to leave the house, and my pathological silence several months ago… It’s not that bad.

What was really awesome about last night was that I allowed myself to actually sing. Turns out I’m a lot more comfortable singing when my voice is drowned out by everyone else. That’s not the awesome part though.

I never trusted my voice, that was the problem. My former vocal coach would always be telling me to ‘release the brakes’. When I can’t hear myself, I can just let go in a way I’ve rarely been able to. Actually, its more then that. Its the need to join in song. A feeling that’s stronger then my need to hold back.

There are notes in the upper register (think soprano), called head notes. You know your singing them when it’s like your head is vibrating with the sound of the note you’re singing. It’s really cool.

That’s the place I got to last night. Where I could feel every note ringing true. The music was alive thrumming through my body.

I’ve talked before of my love of intensity. And my need to lose myself in what I’m doing.

Who knew I could find both at church?

About the song posted, it’s one of my favorite arias. I used to sing it for fun. I haven’t tried to in… years. I still love it. Also, it seems more appropriate then metal.