Lines and Colours

Posted on 2013/04/22 by Hellosailor

In my mind, I am normal. This is because I live with me twenty-four seven (OK, not always twenty-four seven because some of those hours I am asleep).

I have BPD. In the past, I never realised that I feel emotions more easily, more deeply, and for longer than others do.I thought the intensity of my emotions was normal. Turns out, it’s not. I read somewhere that in non-BPD people an emotion typically fires for 12 seconds. In BPD’ers it can last up to 20 percent longer. BPD’ers emotions also repeatedly re-fire, or re-live, or recur, however you want to say it, so emotional reactions occur for even longer. I do. I go over and over and over the emotions, pinging from one to another like a steel ball in a pinball machine.

Emotions are extreme, intense feelings for me. Especially the negative ones, but I can feel entirely euphoric, which is often followed by more extreme lows, so I try to avoid them.

Emotions are also a bit confusing.

I remember one of my first CBT appointments Kerry (my psychologist) gave me a sheet of A4 paper with a thermometer on it and a scale of one to ten. For the scale of one to ten I had to write the feelings and emotions leading up to anger, anger being at the top where the thermometer ran out.

I couldn’t do it. I still can’t.

I remember feeling really stupid. I’m (usually) an intelligent person, I should be able to figure out the feelings or emotions that lead to anger, but I couldn’t. That was when I realised that although I am factually intelligent, my general knowledge of things is bordering on useless, I am not emotionally intelligent.

Why couldn’t I figure it out?

To me an emotion is, or it isn’t. I’m extremely angry or I’m not. There is no build up. Classic all or nothing Borderline behaviour. I’m sad or I’m not. I’m happy or I’m not. I’m bored or I’m not. I hate you or I love you.

To this day I can’t even begin to figure out the emotional thermometer. I’m still one emotion or another, there is no build up. It just is or it isn’t, but I recognise that now.

I’ve been trying to figure out if I can feel more than one emotion at once. I don’t think I can.

It’s not often I feel ambivalence towards someone or something. Sorry, for me it is either love something to the extreme (sharks) or hate every single thing about it and fly into a rage at the mere mention of it (Micheal Buble, emotional thermometers). There is the third thing that is “I don’t care about it so it doesn’t even register on my radar”. I guess that is ambivalence, but can you have that emotion if it doesn’t exist to you?

The only way I would love Micheal Buble is if he got eaten by a shark

BPD emotions cycle rapidly (not on a bicycle). Euphoria can go to anger in an instant. But I don’t think I feel more than one emotion at once, the emotion cycles rapidly from one extreme to the next. It’s quite simple if you think about it, the emotions are rudimentary and uncomplicated because they are pure and unfiltered, but they are also extreme.

So I’ve explained how complicatedley-basic emotions are to me. Now I want to explain how complex the rest of the world is.

Fuck those HD TV’s with surround sound, my life is in HD with surround sound.

There are days where I experience hyperacusis – this is where I’m sensitive to noise, and it happens frequently, almost daily so I’m quite excited when I get a day off.

The world is a noisy, fast paced place. From what I understand, loud sounds drown out other sounds.

I can hear all of the sounds and then my brain separates them out. It’s not just a noise. I hear dogs bark and birds sing and traffic and airplanes and the autoclave and the buzz from the light bulb above the heating is on and there is that high-pitched noise just coming from behind the music on the radio as well as people’s voices. Sounds on top of sounds on top of sounds. It’s not one noise drowning out another, it’s somehow my brain’s fascination and concentration of separating the sounds out. Sometimes the sounds are processed in order of closest to furthest away.

I long for quiet, or even just the sound of my heart beating in my chest and the woosh of sea without the complicated layers of other sounds.

My sense of smell is sensitive to things others can’t smell. It also doesn’t help that memories (good and bad) are triggered by smells, but that is besides the point because we all know that BPD’ers are prone to PTSD.

I see everything. Sometimes there is too much to take in, I feel like a pigeon. I only realised this today when I was talking to colleagues about details in things I noticed and they don’t, or never thought of. Maybe I’m just super observant, but I think maybe it is the BPD. Painting, in some ways, helps me get away from seeing the detail, even if I hardly ever see the big picture and see all the tiny brush strokes and lines.

Lines and colours and white space.

Sometimes my skin hurts. Even the gentlest touch sets me on edge, no matter how much I long to be hugged some days (even if the PTSD and fear of abandonment didn’t kick in). It’s a different feeling to an ache or a pain, it’s like I need to peel my skin off or scrape it or burn it because it is too much, it’s too tight, it’s too skin-y, almost like there are too many nerve endings.

Sometimes I come home from a busy day at work and there is a tinnitus ringing in my ears, I want to peel my skin off just so it stops hurting, I want to eat dry toast with nothing on it so I can just taste the simplicity of the bread and nothing else. I just want to turn all of the lights out and put my head under the duvet and close my eyes so I can’t see and hear and be seen.

Some people think I am lazy because of this. It’s not lazy, its needing to get away from the stimulation of everyday life and the rapid emotions.

Some people think I should go and achieve something and that will make me feel better. It won’t, the over stimulation makes things worse and I’m less able to concentrate.

Some people just don’t get it when I explain it to them and look at me with a puzzled look on their face. I don’t really care if they don’t get it, I have to look after myself.

I’m getting used to the fact that I am not some-people. I’m getting used to my normal not being everyone elses normal. While I sometimes get cross and frustrated with that fact, talking about it in the real world is getting easier and I am gaining more understanding about myself, and other people, and just how fascinating, as well as bizarre, BPD is.

Love Sailor xox

Want to read more? -

Fun pigeon facts – Super vision

Black and white thinking in BPD

Rapid cycling – The differences between BPD and Bipolar

Ultra confusing anger thermometer

© Hellosailor and A Canvas Of The Minds 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Hellosailor and A Canvas Of The Minds with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Helping to Break Stigma

Posted on 2013/01/02 by Hellosailor

When I received the job offer a few weeks ago I thought it over for a few days before excitedly accepting. My new manager arranged that she would send me some paperwork to fill out, and the next week we would meet so I could have a look around one of the branch practices I would be working in.

When I’d quit my previous job a few weeks ago I never expected to land on my feet. My parents were terrified that I had no long term prospects and I was just going to be a temp nurse. Then I found this job in the paper and applied. At the interview I immediately fell in love with the practice (and yes, I can say that, I have Borderline, I easily love things). Thankfully the practice manager and head Vet quite liked me too.

When I received my contract in the mail I was so excited! A new start and an escape from the hell of a job I’d been putting up with for the last few years. I read the contract – higher wage, paid lunch break, more opportunity for bonuses, my own pension! I was soaring! Excited was not the word for it.

Until I turned to the page entitled “equal opportunities”.

Amongst the usual questions of race and religion there was also the disability section. As well as an area for me to write down current medication and the last time I had visited a doctor.

When I’ve filled these out in the past, disability has always referred to a physical complaint so I’ve never bothered to declare that my mental health is far from “healthy”.

As I read through it, nestled amongst the boxes you could tick for “disabilities”, such as asthma, allergies, learning disabilities and hearing problems, was “mental illness”.

Geeze.

At the bottom of the page I had a declaration to sign to say that the information I had provided was correct and if it was proven later that I was lying I could get into trouble.

Fear.

Of course my brain started on the fast thinking thing. If I ticked the box labelled “mental illness” I would be obliged to write an explanation on the other side of the page. How would I explain what is wrong with me to a person, whom I was presuming was “normal”?

Then of course there was the section asking about what medications I was on. Did I have to divulge this? From a health and safety point of view I guessed “yes”. My brain went in to an imaginary scenario that if I got injured and passed out at work, the paramedics would be called out. The manager would go and get my health and safety file, read that I wasn’t on any medications so the paramedics would pump me full of other medications that will react with the ones I’m on, killing me or seriously damaging my liver.

Ok, it probably wouldn’t work out that way, but it could.

Other things started to go through my brain. So what if I had a mental health problem? The whole point of my blogging, originally, was to share my mental health problems and experiences in the hope that I would inspire others. With the support of the blogging community I grew and realised I wasn’t a bad person. Even with a mental health problem I found out I was a good person (although I don’t always believe it). I told my friends of my problems, my diagnosis, my “labels”. They stilled loved the Sailor they knew and didn’t judge. I told a few new acquaintances and most did not blink an eyelid but thought what I’d achieved in my lifetime with these labels was awesome, they thought I was awesome.

If I looked back, although my mental health is a common cause of concern for me and it’s something I’m often quite preoccupied with, the label of being “mental” and the stigma of society saying that you are not able to talk about it, when you do tell people, they often don’t judge as much as you think they are going to.

I also considered that if I did tell the truth about my mental health problems I would be contributing in taking some of that stigma away.

Still the stigma of mental health motivates the “general public” to fear, reject, avoid and discriminate people with a mental illness. In my opinion the media does not help with this as many victims of mental illness are portrayed as “evil”, “criminal” or “dangerous”. The victims of mental illness become even more isolated and hopeless as they avoid socialising or working to avoid the stigma and embarrassment of having a mental health problem. It has become a cycle people are too scared to break.

If I shared my problem, I would help break the cycle. I would also be true to myself and true to my cause – talking about mental health in the real world.

The real problem I had was how to explain it.

I ticked the box labelled “mental illness”. I declared that I have Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar II (yes, I missed some of the others off). I wrote a sentence underneath saying that although I had been diagnosed and I was still receiving psychiatric assistance I did not feel that either of the disorders impinged on my abilities as a nurse, because I had coped with them since my teenage years – this was my “normal”. I wrote down my medications, if they wanted to look them up to see what they were for they could, I guess.

A few days later I went to the branch practice and handed my paper work over in a big, brown, ominous envelope. I was dreading it thinking perhaps I’d made a mistake in revealing my deep, dark secret. Again, my imagination had run away with me and I’d imagined all the scenarios of them telling me they couldn’t take me on with Bipolar. Or they would question what exactly BPD is, because how can you explain that one?

They didn’t say anything.

All that worry, and they didn’t say a thing.

They took all my paperwork, read it, photocopied it and gave it back to me and said “We’ll see you on the 2^ndJanuary.”

Not a word. My imagination had been wrong. Completely.

Research shows that the best way to challenge these stereotypes is through first hand contact with people with experience of mental health problems. By speaking out about my diagnosis I may have conquered a tiny bit of that fear that I will be stigmatised and stereotyped. Slowly I am contributing to breaking the stereotype that people with mental illness are violent, dangerous evil criminals that are unable to live normal lives. This is what I have always wanted to do.

I guess they could still change their mind about the job offer. I still have three months’ probation. Perhaps it was a little lie that the disorders don’t affect my ability to work. Well, they don’t affect my ability to work, just sometimes my ability for my brain to think rationally, but I’m working on it.

Love Sailor xox

Want to read more? -

Stigma and Discrimination – Mental Health Foundation

Hiding – Hello Sailor

Ending Mental Health Discrimination – Time to Change

Mind – UK mental health charity providing advice and support

When I Realised What I Do is Good

Posted on 2012/08/12 by Hellosailor

There are some things you may already vaguely know about me. My real name is Carrie and I have an alternate personality whom I call Charlotte (not to mention the poor guy, Jack, in the back ground who hardly gets a say in anything). I live in the UK near London, by the sea. I am almost 30 years old. I suffer from depression, I have recently been diagnosed with Emotional Dysregulation Disorder (the new name for BPD) and have lived with a host of psychiatric conditions since I was a child.

I am also a Veterinary Nurse.

When I first started writing my blog I never told anyone about my profession and it still scares me a bit to be so open about it.

You see, like many other professionals, when I joined the register I signed an oath and made the following declaration –

“I promise and solemnly declare that I will pursue the work of my profession with integrity and accept my responsibilities to the public, my clients, the profession and the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons and that above all my constant endeavour will be to ensure the health and welfare of animals committed to my care.”

Along with this declaration I have a Code of Professional Conduct by which I must abide. It states what I can and cannot do with regard to my patient, clients and the rest of the Veterinary team. If I break any of these professional responsibilities, I am liable to disciplinary action and could actually be struck of the register for misconduct, making sure that I am out of a job at the same time, because legally there would be a lot of things I wouldn’t be allowed to do.

What has always worried me is that as there is still so much stigma attached to mental health issues, by writing my blog and disclosing that I am a Veterinary Nurse and suffering from mental health difficulties, it could be perceived as bringing the profession into disrepute, as it may undermine the public’s confidence in the profession.

I wonder what my clients would think if I admitted my suffering? Would they think different of me? I know my patients wouldn’t care, but would clients not want me around their animals if everything that was perceived about people with depression, self harm, obsessions and BPD etc. was true?

I’ve been thinking recently, how some of my mental health problems have made me a better nurse. Could it be possible that I’ve just managed to focus some of the BPD (and whatever) in a quest to make something positive come from the thoughts and feelings? I don’t know, it wasn’t intentional, but it excites me that there are many BPD’ers out there who I could inspire into thinking that this isn’t all bad, and eventually turn it into something positive (even if it requires a little work and channelling some of that BPD awesomeness).

For example, I sometimes feel like I lack a personality because I’m not really human, which I understand as the identity disturbance aspect of BPD.

Something I was reading the other day on the concept of BPD stated that we are often referred to as “chameleons” because we are able to take on the personality of the person we are with. I also have intense interpersonal relationships. It makes my social life difficult, but this has been a huge help to me in Veterinary Nursing. Seriously. By being a “chameleon” I am able to pick up on how a Vet acts and reacts and use it to my advantage. I can anticipate their next move before they have even done it, because if I watch them for long enough, I just know because I become them. This is an especially useful trait when you have to work with a bunch of different Vets who all have different ways of doing things. Could I just be a brilliant nurse? I don’t think so, I think the BPD has a part to play because no other nurse I’ve worked with can adapt to other people so easily (and no other nurses I have ever known have been diagnosed with BPD).

Emotions are magnified to the extreme with BPD.

While it is extremely painful for me to watch my patients suffering, one of my favourite aspects of being a Nurse is being an advocate for the animal. I often feel their pain, I can take on a condition and think “how would that make me feel?” Sometimes I think almost too deeply about it BUT it helps me to provide the utmost nursing care and treatment to provide as much comfort possible.

Being able to change from emotion to emotion quickly also has its benefits. Every patient is different. I can move from one to the next, changing my ways to suit them.

My psychiatrist says that because I feel emotions so intensely, I am also better at picking them up in other people. I guess this is true, but with my “animal brain” I pick it up quickly in them too.

It has long been established that I do not give a shit about myself. Why does this make me a good nurse? I will out myself out to make sure my patients are OK. Sure it can be detrimental to my own health if I don’t manage it correctly, but as a professional it is important that the animal comes first and I can definitely say I am good at that!

Obviously because emotional dysregulation is also my downfall, if anything bad happens to my patients I really get upset, but on the other side a waggy tail or a croissant cat can really make my day. Not to mention the other benefits my patients bring to my own mental health and wellbeing. It is almost a symbiotic relationship – their healing heals me, their pain puts mine into perspective.

So we’ve covered lack of sense of self and emotional dysregulation, what else makes a Borderline awesome?

Ahhh the good old black and white thinking.

While nurse training tought me law and ethics and how to integrate these into decision making, I think black and white thinking helps me hugely here. With regard to such dilemmas what it all comes down to in the end is the patient’s welfare, the client’s wishes and legal aspects. When you only see black and white, this can be achieved quite quickly when the situation is not your own (ask me to make a decision based on my life, I will spend at least a week thinking about it, but that is a whole different kettle of fish)!

The same goes for emergency situations. Being black and white helps me make a decision quickly, it either is going to help the animal or it isn’t.

You could imagine that dealing with all this nursing stuff and life and death every day makes me feel anxious. Let me tell you – not at all.

I think because I have suffered with anxiety for ALL my life (I can’t remember not being anxious), dealing with other people or animals anxiety, or life and death situations, does not make me anxious in the slightest.

I’ve felt that familiar feeling of anxiety many times. The rising of bile in my throat, feeling like my trachea has tightened because there are hands around my neck so I can’t breathe and my heart is beating out of my chest. As my blood pressure and respiratory rate rise, I feel light headed and fuzzy, as adrenaline courses through my veins.

Once you have felt panic and anxiety like this, essentially like you are going to die, a work associated emergency seems minimal. I am one of the most calm, level headed people I know in an emergency. Pretty contradictory seeing as I’m emotionally dysregulated. But when you have suffered with anxiety for no actual reason (as well as about a million reasons), no situation can make you feel as bad as YOU make yourself feel.

As for obsessions, I know I have a few which are harmful, but I also have a few which are beneficial (I guess I’m just having a good day today so I can point this out).

When I completed my nurse training, despite the fact that I was depressed and a bit mental, I qualified first in my class, in the minimal amount of time, due to my obsession with getting things perfect. I went on to become an A1 Assessor so I could train students, and helped them qualify in a minimal amount of time. In my obsession for becoming perfect I have completed almost every qualification I can in the quest for being perfect (my post nominals almost amount more than there are letters in my name). Of course I still don’t feel perfect, I will never feel perfect, but that is how it benefits my patients and client, I will never give up trying, even on my worst days.

So, as a Borderline, depressed Veterinary Nurse, with a bit of PTSD, possibly some DID and a few obsessions chucked in for good measure, should I be worried about being struck off the register? I don’t think so. I’m not saying that by having BPD and the mentals I am a better than a non-BPD nurse, I’m just saying that you can have a mental illness, do a job and do it just as well as a non-suffering person, no one should be ashamed and your life does not have to end.

No one should be scared of the repercussions of admitting their illness, professionally or otherwise. No one should have to suffer in silence and suffer the stigma, because good things CAN come from this. It just takes strength and a bit of courage. I look at all I’ve achieved since I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 14 years old and think “how the hell did I do that?” I should be proud, but I am not special. If I can do it, anyone can.

Love Sailor xox

© Hellosailor and A Canvas Of The Minds 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Hellosailor and A Canvas Of The Minds with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. This work is protected under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Onwards & Upwards

Posted on 2012/07/29 by Hellosailor

As a person with more than her fair share of mental health problems, I find it really difficult to maintain relationships, mainly friendships (I don’t trust people enough for any other kind!).

I always put this down to perhaps I’m a horrible person. I seem to go through friends like nobodies business and always blame myself when the friendship falls apart.

Since my diagnosis with Borderline Personality Disorder (or Emotional Dysregulation Disorder, whatever you want to call it), researching the illness and the way other sufferers perceive the world has helped me realise that I’m not entirely to blame and it is my point of view of things that is askew. Most importantly I realised I am not a bad person, I just feel and deal with things differently from most of my “mainstream” friends.

A while ago I wrote about the “Marmite effect“. The Marmite effect to me is the black and white thinking pattern that people with BPD show. People with BPD have no, or very little grey area. This means they either like something, or they hate something. I call this the Marmite effect, because you either love Marmite or you hate it. There is no middle ground. You can read more about the theory and the development of black and white thinking here.

Because of the black and white thinking patterns, people with BPD find it very difficult to integrate both the “good” and “bad” sides of their personalities. They can either see themselves as “all good“, or “all bad“, there is no in between. Unfortunately this thinking pattern applies to other people too.

From a BPD point of view, I find that sometimes friendships are WONDERFUL. I mean, I trust the person with my life, love them with every part of my being and would walk on hot coal for them.

Then something happens. Something turns. My friend might (unknowingly) do (or not do) or say something that triggers me. It could be meant in a completely harmless way, but then I get it into my head that they hate me, because in my world, they can only love or hate me, there is no in between. In this situation I withdraw. The problem most people with BPD are aware of is the fear of abandonment. If I withdraw, I’m doing the rejecting before I’m rejected and that gives me control over the situation.

It can also work another way. A friend could do something on purpose to upset me.

Recently, a friend told me that they need emotional distance from me because of my behaviour. Again, my perception says that they must hate me, as from my point of view there is no in between, there is no grey area. To ensure I didn’t get hurt, I completely cut her off. The fact that I thought she hates me, turned to anger that she didn’t understand my situation, I don’t have BPD on purpose, I don’t act this way on purpose and mostly I am quite a “quiet” borderline, I very rarely have external tantrums.

The hardest thing for me with the idolising and demonising, is the memories associated with that person. For example, a few years ago I was in a good relationship with a man. At the time I idolised him and thought he could do no wrong. When I found out he was cheating and left me, it all turned around. I hated him (and still do) more than anyone else in the world. All the happy memories turned into bad ones. Because I demonised him, I hate even the memories that should be perceived as good, but because he is labelled as bad, all of the memories bad. I feel like I lost eight years, because I can’t look back at any of those times and be happy because he is there and he is bad.

I wonder how I got to this place. I remember my friendships from when I was a little girl and they were all like this. Very intense because of my emotions, easily switching between idolising and demonising.

My conclusion from this is that although I’m not “normal” compared to my friends, this suffering is “normal” for a borderline, so therefore I’m not alone in feel this.

Interpersonal dysregulation is common. However, we must remember that we aren’t bad or unlikable people. It is important to recognise that relationships are similar to emotions, they can rollercoaster up or down and move quickly between the good and the bad. It is widely agreed that people with BPD feel emotions more intensely than others, so if we compare this to relationships, it is no surprise they are so intense for us.

I wonder if I will be able to maintain relationships in the future now I’m starting to understand my diagnosis. I hope I will, but I also want friends who understand how difficult it is for me too.

I went with WeeGee’s idea in the end. I think “Onwards & Upwards” is a good idiom for all writers and readers involved with Canvas!

Love Sailor xox

Some interesting further reading on BPD relationships…..

Why BPD relationships are so complicated - BPD central

I Am Not OK, But That Is OK

Posted on 2012/07/06 by Hellosailor

I’ve been wondering recently (as always) why I am the way I am.

I’ve been trying to come up with an explanation.

It feels like I can’t help these ways. I think the way I think because of all that I am, and all that has happened. I feel like I use it as an excuse, but am I allowed to feel that way?

I wish there was a way to explain how my feelings exist, where they came from and where they go afterwards. I may think of things in a black and white way, my now famous Marmite effect, but often I am a walking contradiction because my opinions can differ from day-to-day.

My therapist has been very insightful. A little while ago we discussed all of the issues surrounding the time I was in a psychiatric unit at age 14.

If you haven’t read it, but would like to, my story is here. In a nut shell (or should that be sea shell?) I started having anxiety attacks at age 8, for some reason I can’t remember. I struggled on until I was 13 years old, I was diagnosed with clinical depression, an eating disorder, obsessive compulsions and was admitted to an adolescent psychiatric unit for a year. I’m still struggling now.

My therapist realises that I am much more accepting of other people’s problems than my own. She asked me why I think this is. I told her I understand that everyone is suffering in their own way. I saw this in the psychiatric unit. Sometimes this suffering means that people act in a certain way, they might say or do things that hurt other people, but they are generally acting this way as a resolution to their suffering. She probed further, why am I so accepting of others, but not of myself? I didn’t have an answer. I always felt like I should be able to cope, no matter what and everyone elses hurt is more important than mine – I should help them deal with their hurt. Eventually it gets to a point where I can’t deal with my hurt anymore and PTSD triggers an explosion.

It once came up in conversation how emotionally dysregulated I am. My therapist wonders why I feel things so strongly compared to others. So do I! Often everything is exaggerated. Imagine feeling sad, but with the volume turned up 100%, the most sad you could ever feel, but the situation doesn’t really require you to feel that extent of sadness. An example would maybe be that you are in a shop and they don’t have the product you want. You’d maybe feel a bit annoyed and select a different product. To me, I’m genuinely 100% angry or sad. This could be for five minutes or so until I switch onto the next feeling, or it could last all day.

This had me questioning what is Emotional Dysregulation? Where did it come from?

My therapists attributes my poor emotional modulatory skills to the fact that I was institutionalised at a young age. While my peers were learning to deal with normal situations and what effect they had on their emotions, gaining different experiences in life, going out and socialising, I was in hospital drugged up to the eyeballs, struggling with self-injury, trying to re-learn what “hungry” was and fighting depression.

Good old Wikipedia associates ED with early experience of psychological trauma and may be present in people with psychiatric disorders, such as borderline personality (BPD) and complex PTSD. Once again, showing that all of these illnesses are inter related!

I also did a bit of reading around PTSD and the effects of institutionalisation in young children. Once again, it explains a lot. Low self-esteem is due to lack of physical and emotional space in an institution, so one can’t develop a sense of self. I think this is very true. In hospital, we had our individual rooms to rest in at night. Each room was decorated exactly the same. We weren’t allowed to personalise them. During the day you had to be in the group. If someone felt bad during the day (which was kind of inevitable seeing as we were all mentally ill) it had a knock on effect to others. Despite this knock on effect, there was definitely a presence of a united front. All off us felt the same, with similar issues and we could give and receive empathy in a way we never had before. We could support one another, when the circumstances of our condition allowed. However, in the long run, I don’t think I developed a very secure sense of self. It is true that I feel much more myself in the blogging world with other mental health bloggers who I can relate to.

Anxiety is typically associated with PTSD and the effects of living in constant fear as a child, can typically transgress into adulthood. So that’s why I get anxious over nothing! I was shocked at being labelled with the tag “PTSD” at first, but actually it fits. Now I can start to understand why I feel the way I do! I also found out that people with BPD are more likely to suffer from PTSD. I’m not sure where I read that, but it’s definitely something I want to look into again later.

I have strong attachment and trust issues and fear of abandonment. I feel like I have felt this always, but perhaps this can be explained again by the institutionalisation, as it seemed to exacerbate this.

Imagine being 13/14 and being separated from your family by an hours drive. You feel ill anyway. You’re anxious. You can’t think straight because you haven’t eaten a proper meal in days because you think it’s going to poison you. All you want to do is feel safe, but you don’t know what will make you feel that way. You are taken away from your relatively safe home, placed in a very clinical hospital environment and seemingly abandoned by your family. Hospitals are intimidating environments. Imagine how small and scared I felt by myself! No wonder I have a fear of abandonment and don’t trust anyone, I was abandoned at a critical stage in my life!

In an institution with so many other children, despite the comradery, there was also a lack of trust between us and the adults. As minors, we had no say in our care. We weren’t told what was happening, what our medications were. We were told what to eat and when. It ended up a very ”us and them” relationship, which in hindsight, didn’t help in anyones recovery. I still have trust issues now, but this might be due to my all or nothing thinking because I think you should be able to trust someone or not. If someone breaks my trust, it is not often I can forgive because what if they do it again? My emotions are disastrous when that happens and if I forgive, this leaves me open to being hurt again. It’s almost selfish, but in the case of ED it’s self-preservation.

This problem also resurfaced when I was discharged from hospital. I was hospitalised for a year. At my discharge it was like “We can’t do anything more for you, see you later. Now go back out into the real world”. All I’d come to know, was about to change in a very short space of time. I felt relatively safe in my stable environment and I was being shoved back home, shoved back to school and expected to get on with it. I was abandoned yet again!

I remember everyone in school seeming really childish. They were all worrying about who was going out with who, what was on at the cinema at the weekend, going clubbing. I couldn’t identify with any of that. I had just survived something huge for someone so young. I saw the world through different eyes. Why were they worrying about these little things that seemed so insignificant to me? Because I couldn’t identify with their interests, I found it difficult to re integrate with my friends. I think this is what makes me socially awkward now, the fear that I am still too different.

Looking at my life in this way, I can sort of see why I am the way I am. It still leaves me with more questions like what would I be like if I wasn’t admitted? Would I still be alive, even? Did something really happen when I was a kid to make me this way? Is it genetic? If it wasn’t genetic, would I have been able to cope with situations better? Will I ever be better?

I often get told to leave the past behind me because it’s in the past and you can’t change it. But it is equally true that this piece of detective work could be the start of understanding and self acceptance.

I hope this can help other people start to unravel why they are the way they are and if I can forgive and accept myself, others can too.