It’s been a while…

UGG! Now that I wrote that title I have Nickelback in my head. Sorry everyone who similarly gets mind-fucked with my title. I feel horrible bout it.


So – my life. Has been up in the air. Fighting with J. Almost breaking up with J. Upping meds. Changing living space around (stressful) Dealing with the damn dog having to pee every goddamn minute. Realizing that it is indeed summertime – and yes – I have gained enough weight with the new meds that I do not fit the majority of my summer clothes from last year. Hell I don’t fit a majority of my clothes from any season.


I am waiting to see if I got accepted into the SAID program. That is the Saskatchewan Assured Income for Disabilities. It basically means that they will (more) officially recognize my GAD and BPD and Bipolar as being lifelong, as well as it effecting my day to day life on a pretty regular basis. It means more money per month, more supports, more help.

It also means J will be madder then ever because it will be a sign to him that this is a permenant situation and I probably won’t be going back to work any time soon.


I forgot what I wanted to write about.  One of the major side effects of the medication I am on now is that I am very forgetful. I forget words that I am looking for, I find my spelling has gone downhill (mostly because i will get part way through writing a word and then forget how to spell it. Like completely. Took me 15 minutes and google to figure out how to spell that yesterday.). I also get confused easily. Which of course makes it easier for people to take advantage of me. Scary shit that.

Ive also been manic  and only sleeping like 3-4 hours a night. Awesome huh?


Anyways. Now I’m pissed off and frustrated I cannot remember what I was going to write about. I think it was about poop. And tennis balls. Ill hopefully remember tomorrow.


The worst day in months (TRIGGER ALERT)

I cannot be held responsible if reading this post triggers you in any way. After all – I warned you in the title!

Ive been debating back and forth whether or not I would actually write about what happened. I cannot stop going over it in my mind. Maybe writing about it will help.  I wish I could say the emotions are still raw… but well … meds…

First off – I have a horrendous sinus infection thing. It started as a cough, turned into no voice and now that I have my voice back my sinus is so swollen that my head feels like a giant pressurized balloon that is ready to pop.  So please excuse any run-on-sentences, grammatical errors and spelling mistakes that the spell check didn’t get.

This all happened Tuesday night.

The meds I am on seem to have three main side effects for me. Lack of appetite. Weight gain. Numbing of all emotional responses. Well not all. Anxiety and some depression still manage to get through. But no anger, no sadness, no real joy or happiness either – but I figure the numb has to help somewhat. (My previous posts were mostly anxiety driven and a statement of the facts. OK. Maybe my emotions are not as totally shut off as I would like to believe – but seriously – when I am in the situation I turn off and don’t have any response).

During the issues the last little bit – while they are actually happening I don’t actually break down. I don’t get mad. I  don’t really do much but try and not zone out. It is not healthy, but I think it has kept me sane for the most part lately.

Then I got sick.

Tuesday night. I have taken my regular meds, and a dose of NyQuil. I am sick – wanting to sleep and hoping the NyQuil will do its job. Instead I stare at the wall for 2 hours. Wishing to go to sleep. Trying to shut my brain off. Trying not to relive and replay every interaction for the last few months over and over. No go. I just cannot seem to shut off my brain and let the NyQuil do its magic.

That’s when it happens. I start to cry. Just a little bit at first. Small enough that I thought it would pass, I would fall asleep and it would all just be a bad memory in the morning. But something went wrong. I don’t know what thought or memory triggered it – but I just started to sob. Big, horrible, drooling, snot filled sobs. My whole body was heaving with the force of my tears.

It was like every thing i worried about or had been anxious about – decided to come to the surface and demand attention. Every fear. Every argument with J. Every perceived failure, every BPD trigger – EVERYTHING. Nothing seemed to stop it.

I was lost. Overwhelmed by months worth of emotional release I was a mess. I sat on the edge of my bed, rocking myself while I sobbed. Feeling such a sense of loneliness. I had no clue where to turn.

I called J’s cell. Went straight to voice mail.

I started to really freak out and panic. I knew that I wasn’t being logical – things couldn’t really be that overwhelming. I just needed to figure out how to calm down. I tried every trick I could remember from what I had done in the DBT so far. Each thing that didn’t calm me down just made everything worse.

Now I was failing at not only every other thing, but at this – my newest skills set – as well.

I knew talking xanax or something would help. The issue was at this point I didn’t trust myself not to take too many.

I called J again. Voice mail.

I started to look for my cut tool. By this time I was sobbing so uncontrollably that I could barely see and was having trouble breathing. This of course sent my anxiety and meltdown spiraling higher and higher.

I couldn’t find my tool.

I purposefully went into the kitchen and got a paring knife. I dragged it across my leg. Nothing happened. I dug my fingernails into my arms, my thighs, scraping them down  hoping that the non- skin breaking pain would work. The knife still didn’t do more then a few light cuts. Not anything that calmed me, or made the pain better.

I called J again. Voice mail.

By this time it is 230 in the morning. I had been sobbing, spiraling, freaking out for about 2.5 hours. I didn’t know how to stop. I sent J a text that said only one two words. Help me.I then went back into the kitchen and rooted around in the drawer for a better knife. I didn’t trust myself not to cut, slash or maim with a bigger knife. Instead I chose a steak knife. Serrated but still fairly sharp.

I returned to my bedroom and proceeded to slice my leg over and over again. Watching the blood well up was cathartic. It brought me down enough to know that if I didn’t connect with someone I was going to have to call 911. I felt that out of control.

With 30-40 cuts on my leg ranging from long to short, shallow to deep – with bruising and smearing already happening from me punching my leg in despair when a cut didn’t help – I called my mom.

I don’t like to call my mom when I am upset. She gets too emotionally upset because she cannot help. She lives in BC. I live in Saskatchewan. I have no family at all here. The ONLY reason I am in this province, this city is because of J. Yes I have S in Regina – but she would understand if I left.

My mom was my safety. She was able to breach through the fear and panic. It was her voice that helped me put down the knife and stop cutting. Her admissions of her love for me, her unwavering support and repeated chant of “It gets better. I know it sucks right now but it gets better”. The knowledge that she cared and didn’t want to push me away because I was broken in two at the moment helped me pull the pieces back together.

We talked for quite a while. Mostly stuff that was easy to talk about as I slowly stopped crying. Both of us knew if we talked about any of the issues going on it would have set me off again.

She made the suggestion that I play a video game – any game – where I could kill things. Take out my feelings on meaningless pixels. Make sure it was bloody and unmerciful – but to keep playing until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Use it as a distraction.

I started playing while she was still on the phone and silent tears were still rolling down my face. When we finally decided to stop talking it was with the generalized feeling from my end of “I’m going to hurt these motherfuckers real good”.

I eventually fell asleep around 5 am. The sun was up and every light in my place was on. I made it through the night. I’m still here. Only mildly cut up. Still sicker then a dog.

I think this whole thing has sent me into a manic swing though. I haven’t been sleeping since. Ive spent money I don’t have on junk. I’m binge eating. Yet I cannot bring myself to care too much. I am not headed back down that rabbit hole again.

Good enough for me.

* Side note – J did eventually call. About 3/4 of the way through me talking with my mom. He was very groggy, said his phone wasn’t working right. He asked if I was OK, and why I was having an issue. What had set it off. I told him I was fine and thanks for getting back to me. That things were going to be moderately fine. (all this was said while trying not to let him know I was crying still) He did eventually call though. That counts for something.

** I didn’t tell my mom about cutting, or the knife. I told her about how out of control I felt and how I didn’t trust myself to not take more pills then I needed. I should have told her – but then she probably would have called the hospital… and who would I get to look after my animals if I was in the crazy ward? Honest to god. That was my reasoning for not telling her.


Do you ever find yourself wondering which way is up?

Do you find yourself confused and unsure about where you stand, what you did and why things are turning out this way?

Do you ever have a conversation with a significant other that goes along the lines of:
“U forgot your bag and ty for showing me where u stand”

To which you are completely in the dark as to what is being referred to as – you just spent 3 hours in a vehicle with your significant other; your significant other dropped you off and helped you put bring your bags inside; your significant other made some joke on the way out and stated they would talk to you later.

Then the text message. No context. No more information. No warning. Just a message that reads as you have hurt your significant other’s feelings in some way and morally/ethically offended them somehow.

My response were as follows:

Call. Goes to VM.
Text : “What??? I am so confused now. Which bag?”
Call home phone. VM.
Call cell again just in case he just missed the call. VM. Leave message asking for a call back for clarification.
Text : “And what do you mean by where I stand?”
Call cell. VM.
Text: (for clarification):”I don’t know what I did that was “showing you where I stand” did I do something? Or say something? Or not do something? Please communicate!”
Complete 10 minutes of silence and panic.
Get text “your air-force one”
Reply “ok. What about your other statement?”
Get text: “Nothing”
Call cell. VM.
Call friend. Proceed with the WTF and WHAT DID I DO!?!? panicking.
While waiting for friend to answer text : “Obviously I have upset you somehow/way. I am sorry if this is the case and hope that when you are comfortable you will share it with me so we can solve the issue.”
Response of: “Nothing to share.”
Explaining confusion to friend.
Send text to SO saying :”It is really frustrating to not know what is going on”
His response? “Only you know now adays”
(by now I am so fucking confused, crying and having a panic attack
Me: “I don’t get it. Only I know what is going on?”
SO : “Yeap”

Then comes the standard response I tend to get whenever I ask for clarification, communication or expansion on the topic we are discussing…

“Don’t worry about it”

How can I not fucking worry about it? You have made it absolutely certain that I will worry about it. That I will panic. I try and keep things calm, collected and not panic inducing, yet you always respond the same way + or – a W/e

I didn’t know what to do. What to say. No answer on the cell. No return of call. No clarification of any sort. I respond with the only thing I have left.

“K. I love you”

It is like the merry-go-round that never ends. I do something wrong. Or you state I have not done something. Or I was supposed to do something but didn’t. Or something I forgot has you upset.  I ask for clarification. I ask for communication. Sometimes I get phone calls. I try and remain calm and communicate like I am learning. Like I have been taught during Lifeskills. Through the DBT workbook. Making sure I don’t make any judging statements. Don’t accuse. Don’t get defensive. Apologize for the misunderstanding that may have occurred and ask what could be done to make the situation better. I wish I could get the same sort of thought out response that I put into my carefully thought out and weighed attempt at communication. I would love for some clear, non overly emotional. Non blaming. Non yelling. Non arguments starting with “you cant” or “you wont” or “I have to” (making it sound like a horrid burden) and the dreaded “Whatever” “It’s fine” “Don’t worry about it”

How am I supposed to get any sort of useful information/communication and PROGRESS to change and communication in our relationship if everything seems to be my fault, because of me, and no way for me to change it.

Any time I try and start an open communication you never want to talk. You say it will just make you upset, or angry. That it wont change anything anyways.

I am in knots. I’m panicky. I’m sick to my stomach. I can’t sit still and have spent the last hour staring at my ceiling wondering what I did or said wrong. How I could have messed up so badly again. How I can make it right.

What do I do now? I am so confused. Which way is up? What direction am I facing?

I tell you I love you. Lately you only respond with “Sure” “yeap” and “Okay”.

I ask you if you love me and you reply with “sometimes”.

I ask you to come to Donna with me – so we can talk about things, our relationship, get things communicated in a neutral, safe, understanding environment. You almost never show – or do – but in the last 10 minutes. I understand you are busy and work lots. But all I am asking is for 1.5 hours a month. Or every other month. Hell – once every 3 months. Just wish you would come and communicate.

I love you. I really truly do. I want to work on our relationship. I want to communicate better.

I cannot be the only participant.

I am not the only one making mistakes. Needing to adjust outlooks and visions. Needing to develop skills.

I have a disability. If I get on the SAID program I will have permanent disability. This does not make me less of a person then I was when we first got together and I was killing myself with multiple jobs and denial that I needed help. This past year has been hard. I have had med changes about every 6 weeks. And not just adjustments. Full blown fucking changes in the medication. This is hard on a person. I cannot just fix it. I cannot just change meds and the next week be fine. Sometimes it can take 3-6 weeks to even know if a medication will work. 3weeks to 3 months to figure out if/what the side effects are. It is a time consuming and frustrating task – not just for those around me – but for me as well. I don’t WANT to be so tired I cannot wake up. I don’t want to be lactating when I am not pregnant. I DO NOT WANT the 60 lbs of med induced yo-yoing over the past year. You think I like being the way I am right now?

I also didn’t want this to turn into a rant either.

Oh well. There ya go.

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