Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Self care fail

I seem to be almost completely incapable of looking after myself properly at the moment. I realise that sounds a tad on the melodramatic side, but there are things I could be doing that would be making life a whole lot better for me right now. It's like a mantra at this stage - walk, run, yoga, diet, sleep, meditation - I could recite this list backwards in my sleep, feck it, I'm sure most of you could at this stage I've said it so often. So why can't I do it? Any of it???

It's frustrating as hell. I mentioned over on facebook the other day that I'm disgusted with myself for a couple of reasons - one, my complete lack of running since the debacle that was the Roundstone 8k a couple of months back, and two, the stone and half in weight I've gained since starting my current combination of meds. I realise how trite this sounds, I really do, first world problem in the extreme. But I am genuinely disgusted with myself. Physically I feel horrible - bloated, weighed down, clumsy, completely disconnected from my body, and emotionally I feel like I've really let myself down, yet again. Why do I keep doing this? Why can't I get it together? I manage in bursts, and then I lose it. I get into a routine, but then I lose it. I convince myself that giving in to the (I want to say occasional but we all know that's a crock of poo) chocolate/chinese/takeaway cravings is being nice to myself, that the extra few minutes in bed will really make me a much nicer mammy because I'll be so much more rested, that skipping yoga in favour of faffing about online or sitting on the sofa is giving myself a break.................but it's all horse-shit. It's the Blerch.

The Oatmeal - a source of profound insight and wisdom
I'm in a rut. I'm very, very tired. I've had a couple of nights of extremely disrupted sleep, resulting in burny eyed-unable to complete sentences-extremely short fuse-type tiredness. It hasn't been pretty. I've had some fairly intense bursts of anger, and have hit myself more than once. A couple of times now I've resorted to extra medication to calm me down. This isn't good. I need something to kick start me back into motivation, but I don't know what that something is. I have less than 3 weeks leave left now, and I really don't want to go back to work. I don't even want to leave the bubble that is Oughterard to be honest. I had such high hopes of myself for this time off - I was going to be up and out every morning, for either a run or yoga. Needless to say neither has happened.

So how do I pull it back? Again? I don't know, but I need to figure it out, because right now my Blerch and Bitchface are definitely winning - he wants me to stop, she berates me for it. Heady combination. Tomorrow is my last session with Therapist for 5 weeks, and despite all my assertions of not needing her anymore, the thought of being without her support for 5 full weeks is terrifying. I can't try everything together, it's too much. But I need to make a start. Fuck it. Sleep. I need sleep. I've lost perspective and am seeing everything through a myriad of bpd filters. Everything else will have to wait now.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

'Nourish that ego'

Where does this title come from? It's part of the latest in a string of abusive (unpublished) comments that have come my way via an anonymous troll. Let me give you this little gem in full:

'Made the health and wellbeing longlist in @BlogAwardsIE as well - chuffed :-)
The attention seeker is getting the attention. Nourish that ego now, you swine.'

I'm particularly taken by the fact that s/he has gone to the trouble of not only reading my blog, but also following me on twitter as the first half of that quote is something I posted myself in relation to the blog awards

Dearest troll, I dedicated a post just to you almost six months ago as you had been with me for quite some time and I thought your dedication required recognition. At the time I promised I'd say no more on it. I've ignored you since, although I admire your persistence. Your imagination does leave a little to be desired. I'm assuming (I think quite safely) that you are only one troll, as the comments do tend to follow a certain theme.

I considered disabling anonymous comments, but that prevents people who genuinely have something to say but would rather do so in the safety of anonymity from contributing. I (briefly) considered publishing all of your comments but thought the better of it. Sometimes they made me laugh. Sometimes they were like a small stone in my shoe, an irritant that could be easily dismissed. Generally, I ignored them.

Is this how it is for you?
Mostly, as I did then, I feel for you. There is no way you have kept up with me this long just to throw abuse at me. My writing must strike a chord with you, whether or not you want to acknowledge it. I'm guessing that those posts you comment on are the ones that hurt the most. 

I'm sorry for you that you have so much anger in you. It must be hard to carry that around all the time. I've no doubt I'll be seeing you again, but will you ever be brave enough to come out from behind the anonymity and insult me to my face? I have the support of a lot of good people, and while your comments may sometimes scratch a little, I never take them to heart. 

So why am I addressing you again? Because what you're doing is pathetic, shameful, small minded, and occasionally dangerous. I don't expect thanks for what I share, I don't expect people to agree with everything I say. I write about me, and my experience. There is no right and wrong, there's only what I know to be my truth. Nothing you can say can change that. 

So, if I continue to upset you, maybe instead of hurling vitriol at me, you could consider asking for help? Or if not, well, PFO. 

Friday, July 25, 2014


I'm missing my blog a lot at the moment. Time to myself is at a premium, and in general I don't schedule writing time - something comes into my head and I run with it. But, with us all being home the last while, it's virtually impossible to do that, and I miss the clarity it gives me, the chance to order my thoughts and make sense of how I'm feeling. Today is an astoundingly good case in point, and in fact I need this time so much, the kids are now distracted by devices so I can work uninterrupted.

I recently applied for something that I was really interested in, and thought I was a good fit for. It wasn't a job, but something that I would find really fulfilling, would give me great experience and possibly put me in a position to help effect change. But today, the PFO (please fuck off) arrived. I'm gutted, absolutely gutted, and having to try incredibly hard not to take it personally. Challenging for anyone, but bpd loves this - I take EVERYTHING personally. I'm trying to figure out what I left out of my application. I'm wondering if the public profile I have as a blogger has anything to do with it, and strongly suspect it may. That said, this kind of speculation is pointless because chances are I'll never know why. I didn't get it. End of.

It's going to take a considerable amount of effort not to let this cloud my day. Form has been incredibly up and down anyway, it's pretty much been day on/day off good/bad. Motivation is waning, I'm finding it increasingly hard to get myself going in the morning, and all the self care I know I need to do is being quietly ignored (yoga, meditation, walking, running) with the result that my perspective is skewed and all the old negative thinking patterns are out in force. I've put myself forward for a couple of other things and I'm now convinced I'll be rejected there as well. 

Crap it. I've just hit the nail on the head. Rejection. It's a huge, HUGE trigger. It feeds straight into the incredibly deeply held core belief I have of not being good enough, for anything, anyone, or at anything. Even last week when Therapist suggested pushing out the gap between appts it triggered this sense of rejection - she's pushing out appointments because she doesn't want to see me - she doesn't want to see me because she doesn't like me - she doesn't like me because I'm not a nice person, ergo, I'm not good enough. Bloody hell. And now the PFO. Unlike Therapist, who worked hard to assure me it was nothing personal and that it was worth trying, no one is going to reassure me of anything this time.  I've requested feedback on my application but I don't expect to get it. 

So, onwards and upwards I guess. I don't handle criticism well, and I certainly don't handle rejection well - it's like an extreme form of criticism. But I know this. So now I'm going to try really hard to engage brain and not let this get in on me. It's not personal. I hope. I just wasn't the right fit.