Yep, another big gap between posts. I should really get better at this.
August was spent in a spin of activities and keeping busy before Kiddo started comp and I went back to work.
Whilst being off work, dealing with all the emotions and feelings that comes with dealing with a terminal patient, them passing and then finding a new normal. I have been struggling with my BPD big time.
For the first time in my life, I am really struggling with the obsessive nature of the illness. The only way I can describe it is as follows. (Thank you to a friend who gave me the analogy that I have added on.)
One is a nippy little car, that is happily trundling along in the “slow lane” doing 70mph happily, when the car is having a bad day, it may struggle. However, a majority of the time, it travels at the appropriate speed and knows where it’s going. Occasionally it will take a wrong exit, but usually ends up back on track.
The other car is an F1 car. Fast as fuck. Doing ridiculous speeds all of the time. On the motorway, around the small side streets, country lanes. Unable to stop and unable to control where it’s going. It just goes.
My thought processes are the F1 car.
“So and So didn’t say hello to me” – This thought then branches into =
“What have I done to upset them? / Why didn’t they say hello?” – Which offers two more branches, with more branches.
“What did I do? / Have I pushed them away? / Am too I needy? / Have I been too distant?” – Those questions pose more branches.
Back to the car and driving analogies.
Sometimes I am going ridiculous speeds down twisty turny dark scary lanes that I seem lost in, going round and round in never-ending circles.
Other times, I am on that motorway, the thoughts are coming at me and I am just ploughing through them with no sense or reason.
The whole thing is exhausting. Add to that the obsessive behaviours. Now, I have spoken about this briefly before. Obsessive behaviours aren’t just the more commonly known Germophobes constantly cleaning and the repetitive types who need to check everything. My obsessive behaviours are picking and pulling at my flesh, along with obsessing over a thought that I may have had briefly in passing.
When that thought has been planted, I keep going back to it. The branching thing happens. It’s like picking a scab, the wound bleeds but you can’t stop yourself from going back to it. Over and Over. I hate it. So not only do I actually physically pick and pull my skin apart, I do it to myself mentally. Criticising every thought, move, action and intention I make. Some days it’s a quiet hum in the back of my head. Other’s it’s like someone it’s so loud and fast, it’s like physically watching an F1 race without the ear defenders.
You know the reality TV shows where people are isolated by themselves either in random places or locked in a single room. I couldn’t cope. My brain would implode. I would fall apart. Unfortunately, I am fine when I am busy. However, you can’t be constantly busy 24/7. You have to stop. The 5 minutes to yourself whilst you are on the loo, just before you drift off to sleep, whilst you are eating. That’s when the brain kicks in and if you are lucky, you can kind of ease off the accelerator and chill, but recently, the accelerator has been floored in those brief moments to myself. Once it’s been floored, there is no easing off until I have either crumbled into a sobbing mess telling myself I am crazy and batshit or I get up and walk or clean. Most of the time, I revert to the former, crying. Angry cleaning and using how I am feeling as a fuel to get my cleaning done helps.
I just want silence. Well, not silence as that’s unnerving but a sedateness to my thoughts and all of it.