Tag: emotions

A closing drawbridge and a silent cry – Eating Disorders and Personality Disorder – #5

A closing drawbridge and a silent cry – Eating Disorders and Personality Disorder – #5

Protection in emptiness

Eating Disorders and Personality Disorder – #5

“You will never touch me”

[I am sorry I have not updated this series for a while!]

In my first period of anorexia, one of the greatest functions of my eating disorder was a kind of defiance and separation. Anorexia definitely changed my personality, or rather, it was often as if there was a separate personality, much stronger than my own, rising inside me and gaining strength as I got thinner. She was strong and defiant and could not be hurt. She could keep me away from everyone and every thing that hurt me.

I was about 15 by this time and had suffered at least 11 years of emotional, physical and sexual abuse and exploitation. The family unit of my mother, my father and I were increasingly isolated and cut off into my mother’s sick (in both senses of the word) world and anything that tried to penetrate it led to terrible consequences (her sickness, her threats to kill herself, her threats to abandon the family, her threats of breaking up the family or of me causing her and my father to die, be taken away and so on). Anything that posed a risk to the world of her twisted thinking, delusions and manipulation had to be invalidated or removed. Visitors weren’t allowed to come into the home. Any social contact had to be planned and rehearsed beforehand, carried out to Mother’s specifications, reported back to her, analysed against her pre-prepared script. The daily routine had to run exactly according to her needs. She had to be recognised as super-human, a genius that nobody could ever sufficiently understand, the victim of everyone’s cruelty and misunderstanding who was so gracious as to forgive everyone because she “loved” them so much. Appease, pacify, agree, conform….the disaster wouldn’t happen, maybe….

My eating disorder couldn’t appease, pacify, agree or conform. It couldn’t be manipulated or invalidated. My eating disorder could defy, protect, shield, consume, grow stronger, defend, refuse to succumb and refuse to be controlled or analysed by her and even refuse to recognise her at all.

I remember that eventually, as my weight dropped and dropped, even Mother started to worry I was too thin and getting weaker. She’d encouraged my eating disorder at first, requiring my weight loss and dieting and reminding me how ugly I really was. Eventually it snapped out of her control and I think it was the one thing that actually scared her.

One evening, she called me into her bedroom. She told me to get undressed and stand in front of the full-length mirror. She’d done this many times before in order to shame and humiliate me and to slowly and methodically point out all the bits of my body that were bad and “too plump” and “too much fat”. Usually it followed a ritual weighing and reporting of my weight to her, her disbelief and being forced to repeat weighing myself in front of her. Now I flatly refused to weigh myself in front of her, but delighted in doing it in my bedroom in secret (always in exactly the same place, lining the scales up with a particular pair of floorboards) and was satisfied with the thrill of seeing the pounds drop. But for some reason, this day, I did obey her to get undressed and stand in front of the mirror. This time, instead of pointing out the places I was too fat, she pointed out where it showed I was too thin. Even I was shocked when I was forced to look at where the normal shape of my behind had started to flatten and disappear at the base of my spine. She continued telling me I was too thin and how she was worried.

A thrill of power went through me. It was frightening but I had never felt power like that. No, I thought. No. This is my body. All mine and you will never touch me again. In total silence I walked away from the mirror, away from her, out of her bedroom back to mine and got dressed again. I resolved to lose as much more weight as I possibly could and get as sick as I could, because this meant she would never ever touch me again. I hated her at that moment. I don’t think I was thinking of the sexual invasions, specifically (and indeed a lot of them I didn’t even accept as invasions at that time), but of all the hold she had on me and all the hurt. She would never do it again.

I had an awareness, somewhere, that she was worried for me and she was upset, and that my father was too. At that time, the need for the protection and power of my anorexia was much greater. I had become quite a nasty person, disregarding the hurt I was causing people who loved me (my dad loved me, if my mother didn’t). Or the anorexia in me was quite a nasty personality and I was becoming that personality. The power of anorexia was stronger than my usual nature.

Of course, it didn’t really stop me getting hurt, and it hurt lots of other people in the process. Eventually, it was acknowledging my father’s fear of what was happening to me that started to bring me out of this first period of starvation. To this day, I am not quite sure what, at that time, made me acknowledge that and shifted the balance of power towards empathy and reason, and away from the protective force of anorexia.

Ginny xxx

Out of it

I’m going between boiling anger that I can’t stand (a force rising inside me which I can’t swallow down, just force and power uncontrolled and bursting free) crushing anxiety with spiraling thoughts, lists, growing out of control faster than I can count, no air to breathe, dread that I can’t surmount, and numb.

Numb. Nothing. Stopped. Watching. Un-engaged. Dumb. Deaf. Hearing what everyone else says but it makes no sense and causes unbearable sensations if I try to respond – I need numb.

I’m drinking tonight to make sure I stay numb and make warmth and cotton wool replace the ache, distancing the hurt from my dissociated state so it can grow without sensing the raw pain or maddening and crushing demands of the ‘other’ (real) world.

The pain from my gynae problems has been scary too, as well as the arthritis. It’s almost funny – completely messed up inside and the physical stuff out of control too, things ‘breaking’ one after the other. Nothing medically serious but it does seem to make me as useless as possible in the real world.

I don’t often drink and it’s a dangerous and stupid choice, especially now. I’m in a really dangerous state right now. I tried and couldn’t get help. I can’t choose rationally what to do. I’m saying it’ll just be tonight and tomorrow I’ll try to face it all again.

I can’t. ..

I’m going to be disloyal, or hypocritical, I don’t know which the word is, to my last post. But I’m crashing tonight. I can’t do it. I’m done and I haven’t got anything to be able to go on. I know it’s stupid and they say it’s not worth getting worked up over, it can be fixed; but it’s done and I ran out a long time ago. Why can’t anyone hear me? Why do they tell me it’s okay? It’s not anxiety it’s desperation and just needing one tiny thing to hold onto – no I’m not strong enough without anything to cling to and I know it’s stupid it’s so small but it really, really matters when everything else is too much and spiraling apart.

So it’s taken away as well and I’m done. Nobody will come and nobody can hear me screaming (stupid nasty spoiled child inside me and stupid ugly needing. ..) Even now I’ve told them the very worst and how much I can’t do it and nobody will come. And I won’t go to the hospital and I don’t deserve it and I don’t want them to stop me because I don’t want to go on and it’s nobody’s fault or responsibility but mine. I should have been able to do it.

I don’t think I can do any good…

I cut and cut but it wasn’t enough. I don’t think I can feel anything but this spent, hurting, screaming silently, needing it over.

I don’t think I can go to work tomorrow or anymore. Not even go out. I don’t know how to get to tomorrow. I’ll lose my job again. Well it’s clear enough I’m rubbish anyway. They’ll want me out of my house. I’ve wasted so much again. I should have done good. But I’m so so … just had it…

And everything I say I’m scared and whoever I tell I might manipulate or they think it’s to threaten or think it’s just stupid and not worth it and just get over it. ..and I’m scared of my anger. I’m sliding in and out of dissociative states right now.

To me it can be all I am holding to and I’m on the edge of ending it all, but to someone else it’s nothing, not worth it, and just fine that more and more is taken that I was clinging to and more and more heaped on that I cannot cope with. I can’t cope with this detachment itself either and knowing every worst feeling is invalid.

What if I don’t trust them?

I’m still struggling to process what I’m feeling after therapy group on Friday. Tomorrow I have my 1:1 appointment and I know we will be talking about it. It is going to be so hard to go and even harder to go back to group when it comes around this Friday.

Just when I’d dared to start to think it’s okay, it isn’t. Just when I’d started to think group might be a safe place, somewhere that you can dare to speak about things that are otherwise forbidden, it isn’t.

Just when I’d started to let my guard down a little and trust, it turns out I’ve hurt everyone and didn’t even know. How did I not know? Usually I can feel it right away and know it’s my fault and this time I didn’t. I so so needed to trust them there and now I can’t. I couldn’t understand what I was feeling then last night the thought hit me – what if actually I’m angry and hurting because I feel I can’t trust them? I did the wrong and I caused the hurt but what if I’m angry because I feel people didn’t say what was really happening?

What if I’m angry because I feel I can trust or speak anymore?

What if I’m angry because I really needed to trust and yet again it all breaks down, just as usual, every other time? I know and felt so so strongly they hate me, they are angry, they don’t want me there, they hate me, they’re angry, and they’re angry for each other too because I’ve done wrong and got it wrong and they think I’m nasty, a fake, no right to be there, they just want me to go away and just put up with me because they had to. What if that made me angry as well as guilty because I can never know where I am and know I must never ever let anyone close but so desperately need people?

Does anyone else ever just wish they could never have to speak again?

The hallucinations are multiplying as my thoughts spiral through all these things.

Ginny xxx

Walking this Borderland #6: Shine

Walking this Borderland #6: Shine

Stars can’t shine without darkness.

To everyone who is alone, hurting, fighting, crying, tonight –

Don’t give up. If you can’t say, one day more, say, just one hour more.

When all you can see is that everywhere is darkness and you are breaking and cannot believe that it will pass, if all you can do is breathe, then that is how you can go on.

In this darkness, you will be the stars, and this struggle you give your strength and your heart to will make you shine the brighter.

Ginny xxx

Walking this Borderland – You’re not going THAT way

Walking this Borderland – You’re not going THAT way

Don’t look back.

You’re not going that way.

I don’t think we should never look back. Sometimes it can be helpful to look back, analytically, or in gratitude, or recognising how things have changed or how far we have come.

Yet, I like this quotation because it reminds me that, no matter how terrible things have been and are, we try to have courage to face each day hope-fully, and to trust that even if we don’t know where we are going, each day we struggle is a day we are going on, and that God promises us “plans for prosperity and not disaster; plans to give you a future and a hope.”

Ginny xx

I know they’re angry

Guilt. Guilt, unease, fear, trepidation of what will come.

Therapy group was painful today. My mind was spiraling with so many thoughts of what I desperately needed to say but couldn’t communicate. Everyone had so much they were feeling and so much that had happened.

I just know I’ve hurt and upset everyone. I know they’re all thinking you’re nasty, stupid, weird, fraud, go away, angry with me, hurt because of me. Cold and away and just wanted me to go and didn’t want to speak to me anymore and didn’t want me there… and I think someone left because of me and I’m scared what she’ll do and what have I done?

And I really really needed this group so much.

I’d just started to trust and now I’ve hurt everyone and they’re frustrated and angry and I can’t give what they need and it’s wrong and why why ever did I start trusting or thinking it would be okay? Why did I let my guard down and not see the hurt I was causing? Why haven’t i learnt that if I think something will be alright and start to trust that’s right when I cause harm?

I can’t put the details of what happened or what we talked about here because it would break confidentiality for other people.

It will be very hard to go back next week. It will be very hard to go to my 1:1 therapy on Monday too. I can tell they don’t want me now. I’d really started to need them. I’ve messed it all up like every other time.

Ginny xx

Saving me

A couple of days before Christmas I hit the lowest point I had been for many weeks.

I had had enough. I couldn’t go forward anymore. I was past hurting into utterly gone and spent and hopeless. I couldn’t see anything past giving up and that there was no good I could do anymore. I was going to end it all. I knew what I’d do and I knew I’d do it then and that I didn’t want help.

My friend realised. She and her husband talked to me and what they said that night saved me. Despite everything being so dark for me they somehow told me I could do good and could be wanted. I didn’t want them to know but my guard was down. And they were there miles beyond what I deserved.

I never tell anyone or let anyone know when I feel like I’m going to end it. I never tell when I’m self harming either. I do tell my doctor / CPN but at the time I’m doing / feeling it,  I’d never tell a friend or family member because I fear if they knew, they would feel responsible for stopping me. I absolutely can’t put that on anyone. It is not for them to stop me when I’m at that point. Ever. If i do it it is my action alone.

But now my friend knows and I’m scared what does that mean now? Does she now feel that responsibility I tried to avoid putting on anyone? They saved me. What do I do now I owe to them the fact I’m still here going on now? Without them I’d have done that. I feel utter gratitude but equally even to tell them, as I have tried to, may put responsibility onto them, to watch me or stop me.

Thanks be to God I am not feeling in that state right now but I do know it may – almost certainly will – happen again.

I so don’t want anyone to feel responsible for me or worry for me.

…..

Ginny xxx

A closing drawbridge and a silent cry – Eating Disorders and Personality Disorder – #4

 

Protection in emptiness

Eating Disorders and Personality Disorder

Chapter 4 – Frozen

So, this is the first chapter of several in which I want to explore some of the things my eating disorders “provided” to me as a way of coping.

Please note a lot of the thoughts in this post are from my eating disorder and my psychosis and BPD – they are not ways in which I’m advocating thinking and I’m not saying that starvation is a good thing even though it did have a purpose for me. I’m in therapy partly to find other ways to cope rather than turning to methods that hurt me.

Emotions are frightening. Feeling is frightening. Feeling with such intensity is deeply painful and more suffocating and gripping than I can stand. Needing is not allowed, greedy, out of control, dangerous. My body and my longing centre that wants all these things (love, comfort, that I am good enough, that I can be safe, understanding, a parent, security, home, someone there…) is despised and resented. Inside me is evil, bad and ugly and it might get out. I want and I hurt and I do harm, I’m a liar and a fraud and I punish and it all comes out when I don’t even know.

If i dont feel it’ll be alright. If I don’t feel then I can walk one day more. If only the pain of knowing everyone around me feels so much will go away. If I can stop hurting them. If I can get away, because I so need to get away and shut off and sleep. I need the thoughts and the voices to stop. I need out and away from the terrible things I can feel all the time, that hit me and grip me and tell me I’ve caused hurt yet again.

There’s one thing that stops it. Don’t eat. Go on. Just a little bit longer. Stick to the plan of what you’ll eat. Count the tiny crackers out. Slow as you can take the tiniest pieces. Stick to it all and you’ll be rewarded with wonderful emptiness. Even go longer than you planned before you eat, by the minute then the hour. .. and the emptiness will grow and the high will rush through your body leading and lifting you to a higher and whiter and emptier place.

Keep going. You can keep going now. The starvation opens the door to aclosed off, frozen place. It’s good there. The thoughts and the needing and wanting and feeling stop. All you need is empty and all you feel is cold and numb and closed away.

It’s your place alone. You’re alone and safe. The voices are silent for now and you needn’t engage with anything your body or heart demands because you’re separated from those disgusting needy screams. In your frozen place the pain has dimmed and everyone else is safe too because you’ve gone well away.

Starvation created that empty place, as though it carved it away in your mind and it’s a sure retreat for you alone. Stick to rules and emptiness and no temptation and you will stay safe there. However frozen cold it is there and however much you feel your energy slipping away and your heart pounding and your muscles weakening, it is too dangerous to leave it. The feeling and needing (yours and others’) and consuming demands are just too dangerous. The emptiness and starvation has carved out this safe place and consumes more and more of your mind, like a cave in rock that becomes bigger and bigger, empty but consuming its surroundings with the very emptiness, so that it becomes harder and harder to leave.

To recover you are drawn slowly from this place or something throws you out of it forcibly and it is taken from you.

However much I am thankful to be recovered from the terrible physical effects of anorexia and the destruction it caused to the lives of those who care for me, a big part of me still wishes that this frozen place hadn’t disappeared. In my recovery I consciously said goodbye to this place as I knew I had to leave it. I cried for it. It hurt me and my loved ones badly yet also it had protected me.

Now without my eating disorder the terror of all the feeling and consuming is around me and there isn’t any escape. And added to it is knowing that I “should” be fine,  better, out of danger. Out of physical danger, yes, but ironically into pain beyond what I know how to stand, although I also know how very weak I am not to be able to stand what others deal with day to day, and that adds still more to guilt and longing for escape.

Perhaps my therapy will show me how to walk through these out of control feelings and how to continue when there is no escape and no freezing out.

Ginny xx

 

 

Can’t you see they’re in so much pain?

NB this post refers to the films The Green Mile and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. This post is about BPD and experiences of others’ emotions however:

Slight movie “spoilers” alert if you haven’t seen the films and are planning to 🙂 ! Also, whilst both films were interesting and I definitely identified with characters, the first contains a few highly disturbing scenes and themes and part of the second was triggering to me at the time I watched it, though I think only through similarity with my personal experiences. Therefore to be on the safe side, I’d advise caution if you do decide to watch the films.

 

“Mostly I’m tired of people being ugly to each other. Tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world every day. There’s too much of it. It’s like pieces of glass in my head all the time.” – John Coffey in Stephen King’s The Green Mile

Someone shared this quote with me today. It was years ago I saw the film “The Green Mile”. It is not the kind of film I normally go for;  it was watched as someone else’s choice. It was thought provoking and also deeply disturbing. I would not watch it again now as it’s too harrowing but it has a lot to say about our judgement of good and evil in ourselves and others and how this affects how we treat our peers, those we work for and those in our charge.

“The Green Mile” is set on death row in the USA. John Coffey is a black American prisoner who has been sentenced to death accused of the murder of the two children of the plantation owner for whom he worked. If i remember right he was sentenced because he was found at the scene. In fact he was not the killer; he was trying to save the children. Coffey has a super-normal (supernatural or spiritual?) power to heal people. He touches them and draws the illness out of them through his own body and then “breathes” it out and away. Coffey knew the children had been lured away and attacked and he was at the scene of the crime because he was trying to save them. During the film, Coffey seems unbelievably calmly accepting of the horror that he will be executed and shows astounding compassion to his guards and other prisoners.

In the horror of death row the introduction of this super healing power seems somewhat jarring. Perhaps that’s part of Stephen King’s intention. When we watched it my friend wondered wouldn’t it have been better if it were totally realistic without the introduction of the supernatural realm. I can see her point. Then again I think King integrates it powerfully into the story. In a place of utter despair and darkness on death row, good cannot be extinguished. Compassion and healing still exists through one poor man who continues to do good through being utterly judged, rejected, broken and condemned. No matter how weakened he is, he can still do good and he’s a channel for healing.

He is in the broken and condemned state he’s in precisely because of his desire to help, to heal, to do good even when people judge him wrongly, and because of how much he knows other people’s pain and hurt and needs. Had he not recognised the children were in danger, searched and tried so hard to save them, he would not have been found at the crime scene and would not have been accused…. through the film we see other examples of how Coffee’s compassion and feeling for others overrides his own needs or his own pain.

The quote I started this post with expresses some of the cost to Coffey of feeling so much other people’s pain and needs. I those of us with personality disorders and post traumatic stress disorders, or who have suffered abuse or traumatising relationships,  can struggle just the same.

We feel so very much what others feel. It goes beyond empathy. It goes beyond wanting to help. It is a mental and bodily sensation. We actually feel what the other person feels. Sometimes we feel it more suddenly, more clearly or more overwhelmingly than our own emotions and needs. It can be a shocking or crushing wave or grip. We can’t breathe or we tense and jump as though we’ve been hit. We feel something in us twist painfully and connect to the other person’s hurt and we feel more than a need to take it from them – perhaps a longing, draining need to take it, rather as if we could do as Coffey does in the film.

It can be too much to bear. Too much to be around anyone and so very tiring. After social situations we may need time to rest and recover and go away to some quieter, colder, more numb place in our mind. Or we need something desperately to distract us and this may be dangerous impulsivity, self harm, drink, drugs and so on, because we need anything at all to get away from the knowledge of such hurt and pain in the world that we can’t draw out.

For some reason it’s the feelings ofhurt and need or pain or anger that overwhelm us and fill us more powerfully than good feelings in others such as joy or excitement. I don’t entirely know why.

There’s another film that spoke to me about this too, “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. The main character has suffered childhood abuse and at the end of the film, he asks the doctor treating him, “can’t you see that they’re in so much pain? ” – can’t you see that everyone around is in so much pain, because he can see it and doesn’t know what to do. I can see it and feel it and take it all on and I don’t know what to do. It can be so impossible to carry on through that feeling and so tiring, that we withdraw totally to protect ourselves. Then we seem cold and that we aren’t making any effort to help anyone and thinking only of ourselves – when actually we ate feeling so very much and so much wishing we could heal others’ pain.

In “The Green Mile”, despite being judged and condemned, Coffey continues to feel everyone’s pain and continues to heal people. He is utterly misunderstood. His power for good is hidden to almost everyone. But even there in death row it can’t be stopped.

Even if we are utterly weakened and broken, even if nobody understands, even if we can’t tell anyone yet what is really happening,  the good we can do will still remain. Even if we feel we’ve totally failed, there is good in us, even if it’s hidden from us too just now. Not seeing it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Paradoxically, though our ability to feel so much has a great cost to us in pain, in being drained and spent and hurting, it may not be a bad thing. It may become something that enables us in the end to help and actually even connect to people.

I think learning to believe good in ourselves lasts even in weakness and apparent failure is a big part of getting there. So is finding a way to stand experiencing what we feel of others’ emotions and our own, so that we can use these feelings beyond empathy to be able to help people rather than having to withdraw because we cannot stand it. So far I really don’t know what the answer to this is, as yet.

Ginny xx