Most people think that when you need help you should just ask someone, but when you are in the MIDST of that struggle... it feels like you're paralyzed. When you are in the depths of despair and pain and hopelessness you don't have the energy or the strength to ask for help. It's hard enough just to get out of bed every morning. There are days where I don't shower, don't brush my hair, hardly eat. I feel like a zombie. I don't know if it's from my medication or just from depression and stress and sadness. When I'm in my rational state... I KNOW what I NEED to do. It's the DOING that is difficult. It's like a 10 ton boulder is placed on my chest and I can't move. Everyone freely gives advice (most well meaning), but most don't 'get' the pain and difficulty that a mental illness creates.
I feel as if I have done a lot for myself to try and DO something about it. I see a counselor that specializes in BPD or EID (Borderline Personality Disorder / Emotional Intensity Disorder), I attend group therapy with several other ladies that struggle with it which teaches ways to try and manage the emotions -- the distorted thoughts, I take medication which helps the depression (I don't know if it's effective anymore). At times of intense emotion, sadness-anger-despair, I struggle with the urge to cut myself. I don't understand why. I wish I didn't have that urge because I feel like a freak. Most people that know me don't know this about me unless they see the scars on my arm. It's not something one freely admits to. (Hopefully someone will be helped by reading this and knowing they aren't alone.) LOTS of people abuse drugs and alcohol, I don't drink or do drugs, the way I deal with stress and intense emotions is to cry or cut. Being in group therapy has helped me learn how to distract and try to manage emotions BEFORE they get too out of control. It doesn't always help... especially when dealing with stressful situations.
Perfectionism is also something that comes with BPD. I feel like I should be able to do things for myself. It's horribly difficult to ask for help because of this. I get angry at myself if I can't do it on my own. My expectations of others are high which is difficult because when they don't act how I think they should, it's hard to deal with. We are taught that family should help one another out... friends... church family, in times of happiness and sadness. This has been one of the most difficult things for me, personally, to deal with at this time. It's hard to deal with these people failing you. I feel like certain people have failed me in the time of my greatest need so far in life. I'm so hurt... and it comes out in anger. I'm disappointed. I know that I am not alone in these feelings, as I've talked with lots of other families dealing with the illness or death of their child and people can't handle it so they just don't deal with it. Granted... some people may not realize they are doing it, nevertheless... it still almost breaks you. It's like people are ignoring the 'elephant in the room'. I know that my expectations are high and when I'm doing well, I can understand that people are busy and that they can't read my mind, but when I'm not doing well and my illness is getting the best of me I feel like 'why don't they care?', 'I can't do this without help', 'I don't have the energy to reach out to people', etc.
I feel like I'm crumbling some days. I'm slowly dying. Life just doesn't seem real anymore. I feel like I'm waiting... just waiting for something to happen. I'm like a zombie, just going through the motions. On good days, I feel hopeful, able, happy to have Oliver, grateful. On bad days, I just want the pain to end. The uncertainty, the pain, the sadness, the hopelessness. I'm watching my child slowly die. How the hell can I be grateful for THAT trial? I am angry with God. I don't understand 'the plan'. I WANT TO IN THE WORST WAY. I want to feel like it will all be how it's supposed to be, but I can't honestly believe that at this moment in time. I.AM.STRUGGLING. I feel like the world is just spinning and that feeling is gone. That feeling that everything will be alright... is gone. Whenever I struggled with depression and my mental illness was raging (before Ollie was diagnosed), I always had the knowledge of 'the plan' to fall back on. You don't want to admit that you think of ending your life, but the thought lingers. It feels like it would solve everything, but then again I think, what will it solve? What waits for me in the next life? I'm having a hard time believing the things that I've been taught. My testimony of things I once felt, is nearly gone. The time in my life where I need it the most... is when it's fading away. I just don't know anymore. I don't know what I believe anymore. All I know right now is that I am in a tremendous amount of emotional pain and there is no end of my hurting and aching in sight. I realized the other day that two of my four children have multiple life threatening diseases. Oliver -- asthma, allergies, cancer and Jaren -- asthma, allergies, autoimmune disease: Eosinophilic Esophagitis. People don't think allergies and asthma are dangerous, but when you see your child struggling to breath, watching men in your living room taking vitals and carrying your child out to the ambulance... yeah... it's life threatening. I know people say that God doesn't give you more than you can handle. I'm not so sure I agree right now. I'm hanging on by a thread.