Monday, February 23, 2015


I saw Therapist today. Following on from our last session, she asked me to read a couple of paragraphs from the DSM description of bpd (I'm going to highlight in red everything that applies to me, and in green things that thankfully are beginning to apply less):

'Individuals with Borderline Personality Disorder make frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (Criterion 1). The perception of impending separation or rejection, or the loss of external structure, can lead to profound changes in self-image, affect, cognition, and behavior. These individuals are very sensitive to environmental circumstances. They experience intense abandonment fears and inappropriate anger even when faced with a realistic time-limited separation or when there are unavoidable changes in plans (e.g. sudden despair in reaction to a clinician’s announcing the end of the hour; panic of fury when someone important to them is just a few minutes late or must cancel an appointment). They may believe that this "abandonment" implies they are "bad." These abandonment fears are related to an intolerance of being alone and a need to have other people with them. Their frantic efforts to avoid abandonment may include impulsive actions such as self-mutilating or suicidal behaviors, which are described separately in Criterion 5.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable?

I am feeling quite remarkably stressed this evening. I sat down an hour ago to do a piece of work that's needed by the end of the week and got exactly nowhere with it. So then I figured I'd go ahead and reorganise my google drive (what better form of procrastination?!) and happened across some writing I did when I was in hospital that I have literally zero memory of doing. I shouldn't have read it. In fact, I stopped half way through because it was so upsetting. And now? Now I'm sitting here staring at the walls with about 19 knots in my stomach, fixating on all of the things that are challenging right now that I can do absolutely nothing to change. Chief among them is financial stress, but I'm not prepared to go there right now. Instead I'll just leave it to the knots and hope that sleeping on it will make me feel better. I swear to god, since some point this afternoon I've actually felt like there's something caught in my throat I'm so stressed. That's not awesome. I'm sure yesterday's session is having something of a knock on effect. Therapist's parting words to me were to go home and mammy myself - I cannot begin to describe how desperately I want someone to do that for me.

Monday, February 16, 2015


I had a really, really tough session with Therapist today. The way I've been feeling the last few days I knew it was going to be hard, but the extent of it still managed to catch me by surprise. It's been a long time since I left her office in tears, but today I was barely able to see on my way out. The tears continued out in the street, all the way back to the carpark, and then turned into barely contained sobs once I hit the safety of the car. It was all decidedly unpleasant and I would have been mortified if I wasn't so busy trying to avoid eye contact with half of Galway.

Friday, February 13, 2015

The psych unit

I've been pretty caught up with please talk lately. It's taken a lot of time, and a lot of headspace, but I'm really enjoying it so I don't mind. There are numerous things to tie down over the next couple of weeks - an official launch and speaker for said launch, press release, staff and student communication, a training course to be I said, lots. I was talking to Hubby about it this morning, he would have a lot more experience with project management than I do. He was taking me through the practicalities of trying to engage people, delegation (never one of my strong points) and how to put together a decent plan for the future.

As we were talking about all this, I remembered something. This time two years ago I was in the psych unit. I'd been in just shy of a week, and at that point in time, if I'd been given the choice, I probably would have elected to stay forever. I felt safe there, looked after in a way that wasn't possible at home. Meals were provided. Meds arrived twice a day. There was a lot of tea. Apart from that I was mostly left to my own devices and played swiped for hours at a time, obsessively, it kept me out of my head. I honestly don't remember a whole lot about it otherwise, I think in part because I don't want to remember.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Dropping plates

I made a big decision today, one that I've been agonising over for a solid week. Remember I said things were getting a touch hectic? I was wrong. They were way beyond hectic. On Friday I spent most of the day physically shaking, which hasn't happened for months, and on Saturday I was so stressed that the prospect of my son's birthday party had me on the verge of a meltdown. Yesterday I went into complete denial, and ignored the massive to do list that had to be got through by this evening if all the plates were to be kept spinning. I was beyond shattered.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Guest post

I'm honoured to share a post by a blogger who at times seems to be reading my mind. Here's something she wrote in response to something I wrote, and she says it far more eloquently than I did! If you'd like to see more of her work, check out her blog, Life in a Bind.

Fiona recently posted about the fact that nothing had grabbed people’s attention more, than an image she had shared through her Facebook page, comparing a possible response to someone with depression, with an equivalent response to someone with asthma. The image struck me as much as it had struck so many others, and I started to think about why it had made such a powerful impression.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Under pressure

My life has gotten a little bit hectic the last few weeks. Blog mail has backed up, there are a bunch of messages on facebook I haven't had time to reply to. Work has been CRAZY busy, I'm just about caught up with myself following on from the discovery of my epic cockup. There's home stuff - you know, kids, money, the usual. Then on top of that, I decided to go ahead and not only launch a mental health campaign at work, but while I was at it, set up a society to back up the campaign as well. On my own time, as it's not part of my job. But I can't be at work outside of work hours because I've to be home for the kids. So I'm squeezing it in either at coffee time (haven't actually taken a break in weeks) or in the car on the way to work in the morning. I'm wired. There are lists running around my head constantly, I'm thinking of everything that needs doing before the alarm has finished ringing in the morning. It's the last thing I think of at night. I'm scared I've taken on too much, but I can't back out of it now. I don't want to, not really, but at the same time, I'm worried I'm not up to it. I reduced my work hours to relieve some of the pressure I was feeling, and have somehow managed to create an even bigger level of pressure for myself. Granted, it's a different kind of pressure, because it's something that gives me incredible energy, but it is coming at a cost. My mind is constantly elsewhere, no matter what I'm doing, I'm two, three steps ahead, all the time. It's exhausting. I haven't walked my dogs in weeks. Despite my best efforts at self bribery (don't know how many of you saw my tattoo/reward jar) I haven't yet managed to do any yoga. I could do it in the evenings once the kids are settled, but to be honest, at that stage all I want to do is melt into a glass of wine and switch my brain off.

Today, I escaped for 5 minutes because there was a stunning sunset and I needed to be by water, so I took myself off to the lake. For literally 5 minutes, in between hoovering and dishing up the dinner. All I could hear was the water lapping off the pier, and the birds. Nothing else. It was amazing, and blissful and wonderful and far, far too short lived. I need more of that.

No filter, no photoshop, honest. Just the west in all its beautiful glory.