April 30 ~ 1

It has been a week since my fingers last tapped away here, in this place where I have opened myself up in the most vulnerable, intimate manner in order to give you a glimpse into "my world". The world of struggling day to day with mental illness. I have been so afraid of exposing my vulnerabilities here because over the course of the last couple weeks I have been burned far too often because of trusting those in my circle of support with the most intimate details of my life and with allowing them to be present with me during the most challenging and vulnerable experiences.

My heart is breaking as I struggle to bring light into this world of mine. I busy myself with "mindless tasks" like playing word games on the computer or rearranging things around the house. Keeping myself as busy as possible so that I don't have to think or feel...because the pain is so unbearable, it is as close to a living hell as you could imagine experiencing. I turn on my music, I shower, clean the house, open windows, let the sunshine shine in and permeate the darkness of my world...all in hopes of somehow fighting this incredible darkness that is so hard to bear with support, let alone in a place of feeling abandoned by those you thought were your greatest sources of support.

The tears pour as I write, I struggle to breathe as gut wrenching sobs overcome my body, the fear makes my heart race and my limbs are weak, devoid of the strength I need to carry myself. Last Friday I believed it couldn't possibly get worse than the emotions I was feeling and that it couldn't get darker than that darkness that overcame me...I was wrong.... This "I have to live this way because too many people depend on me" hell is by far worse...because I am facing it without my rocks...for they have turned to dust.

Abandonment...the greatest fear for those of us who struggle with Borderline Personality Disorder. It is by far one of the stronger characteristics of this disease that we are inflicted with. And then trust...when you fear abandonment trusting is a hard thing to do. I trusted...I had faith...I believed...and I was wrong. I shouldn't have done so. I said to my psychiatrist and my family doctor that I trust too much or too little. If only trust wasn't the heart of my relationships. It is so vital for me that it truly is the heart, that which keeps relationship alive in my world...and without trust it is like trying to live without a heart ~ you won't survive for long.

My family doctor said he thought I was crazy for starting this blog. He believed I was opening myself up to being hurt and judged. I believed differently...until now. Perhaps I was wrong. I started this blog to give you all a window into my world, to hopefully give you perspective and help you understand what it means to live day to day with an illness that completely controls you and takes over all aspects of your life. An illness that is so incredibly debilitating at times, that is so hard to treat and that can create such devastation for the one who suffers and those who surround that person.

I have lived alone with this illness for far too long. I have felt misunderstood all my life. I have tried to mask and cover up this terrifying illness so that I could look less like the monster I feel I am inside. The years of suffering alone have left me weak and weary. I got to the place where I was no longer strong enough to fight alone...and so I slowly and gradually welcomed people into "my world" into seeing who I really am...the complete picture of Angela.

Opening myself up was absolutely terrifying for I feared that I would scare people away, that they wouldn't like or respect me anymore and that they would be repulsed by me and by my emotions, thoughts and actions...that the illness would create not only an internal living hell but an external living hell. And as the masks started to be put away and the protective barriers started to crumble I began to feel a brief sense of renewed strength...for I knew I was not alone in this journey, that I would be supported and carried when I couldn't do it on my own. And that yes, despite my illness and the ugliness that it brings into my life, that people could see deep inside of me the inner beauty that wanted to radiate.

I believed that for quite some time as I felt love come into my life in many forms. I was less afraid and willing to take some major steps. I was willing to face this demon that has stripped my life away piece by piece for nearly my entire lifetime...I was willing to stand up to it and say "you will not take my life from me...I choose life...I choose health...and I deserve to be loved, supported, safe, secure and happy". I will not let you take me as a victim anymore.

So with the support of those I trusted most intimately I began to face hurdle after hurdle of searching out the means to fight this illness...this demon. I began to take positive steps, BIG steps, frightening steps and very vulnerable steps towards finding that which I deserved...a healthier life. I began going to appointment after appointment, I read, researched, talked, shared, took meds, listened to others, sought out support and I completely opened myself up to feeling as I had never allowed myself to do and to facing some of my deepest fears and vulnerabilities.

As I became more vulnerable, the fear became more intense. And in contrast to what felt like HUGE steps on my part those around me kept expecting more. They wanted that "quick fix'...the magic pill...the magic wand...that would make me "snap out of it". They became less and less interested in understanding and more and more consumed with "why isn't this working...why aren't you doing more...why can't you". The negatives were firing at rapid speed from the mouths of others while the positives were left unsaid in the dust from the damage the negatives were doing to my spirit, my being. And soon I became harder and harder to support. I felt it all slipping away...I felt everyone's frustration and impatience...I felt the focus shift from what I was doing to what I wasn't doing...in the minds of others and then ultimately in the mind of myself. My support system was crumbling...and the more desperately I reached out to try and piece it back together, the heavier the pieces became, until I couldn't do it anymore. I want to be alone I said...why...because I truly want to be alone? No, if you understood my illness you would know that isn't what I wanted or needed...I spoke what I wanted or needed but the words were only whispers caught up in the commotion of everything else...and all people heard was she wants to be alone. I wanted to feel safe, secure, understood, supported and I wanted to know that I could count on the heart to keep beating ~ the trust to remain...I wanted to know that I could expose my vulnerabilities in my time when I felt safe to do so. I wanted my story to go at my pace; I wanted the "expectations" to be replaced by the acknowledgment of the steps that were taken. I wanted to be recognized for the steps toward healing I was taking, I wanted to be trusted and have others trust the professionals to give me the "you need to, we should work on, if you woulds..." and have those who committed to supporting me do just that, support me.

What I needed from my sources of support were some vital ingredients that didn't feel like they were being met as people became more consumed with the illness and its affects and less consumed with Angela as a real person, not just an illness. I needed people to not tell my story and let me share in my time with whom I feel safe to do so... to not judge, to listen instead...to not expect perfection, instead recognize steps taken...to understand and ask supportive questions when they didn't...to support myself and those around me without making me feel like I was less than or a failure because I was hurting those around me...to recognize that the illness is what hurts those around me, not Angela...the illness controls me, I don't control it.

The "heart" left many of my relationships over the course of the last several weeks. And as hard as I tried to fight to keep it going, I just couldn't. The illness, the demon, was taking victims at rapid speed. And as the illness victimized those around me the darker my world became...until hope was lost.

I don't know if I will ever get better...will I get healthier, I hope so...will I hopefully have more lighter days than darker days, I hope so...will I hopefully bring more joy than sorrow into the lives of others, I hope so...will I feel more in control and less controlled by this illness, I hope so... We don't know. There are no guarantees. The best that we can hope for is to try...to take advantage of all support offered, to follow steps recommended based on pathways that have been "blazed" by others, to take the medications that will hopefully provide more rest and balance, to listen and openly share in the most intimate and vulnerable ways in hopes that an answer can be found somewhere in amongst the piles.

Monday I had the first visit with a psychiatrist that will be treating me for the next two months. I can't tell you in words alone how terrifying it is for me to know that she is only here for two months and after that she will move on, and yes, I fear that I will feel abandoned as a result. To know that I have to openly trust, share and have faith in her yet she is going to leave sooner rather than later. That is definitely challenging for me. But despite that I sat down and poured out the terrifying details of the spiraling pit of darkness that this illness has created in my life lately. Right down to the details you really don't want to speak, but know you have to. She recognized the many double-edged swords for me. Especially the one where I am so aware, which she says is a huge blessing for me because many people take months or years of therapy to get to the awareness point I am at, but that the awareness is also a curse because as aware as I am I still can't just fix it. I can't "snap out of it", "release it" like many want me to be able to do, like I wish I could. It just isn't possible because "it" is a part of my illness. I have wondered myself and have been encouraged to by others to pursue "getting away for a bit", basically checking into the hospital. After sharing with my psychiatrist the intimate details of how close I have been to death's door I asked her what she thought about hospitalization with regards to me. I was surprised by her answer, because so many are convinced it is the "best answer" for me right now; she said that she thinks it would do more harm than good at this point for me. That because I have so much support in place that it is best for me to remain at home...that the hospital is an awful place to be (which I already knew). Sure, there are days where I'd like to escape all this...but not the physical stuff, the day to day routine instead I want to "escape" the emotional side of all this and unfortunately that will never go away it will always be with me and without the day to day routine it is even more prevalent. So yes, despite feeling suffocated by emotions and wanting an escape, I too agree that the hospital is likely not the answer at this point.

So here I sit...feeling abandoned by those I needed most. Left in this dark pit of living hell where those who still brave the world of Angela are carrying heavier loads as they try and keep me afloat. As I try and "kick in" my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and the manic side of my Bipolar Disorder in order to somehow make it through the day and not let the Depression side of the Bipolar and Borderline Personality Disorder take over my being, and not let the fears from the Borderline Personality Disorder consume me and not let the severely debilitating anxiety from the Anxiety Disorder prevent me from coping. Yes, I am grasping at light within this living hell of my world crumbling around me...and somehow we are making it at least until the physical darkness of night comes or until I stop and think and feel...ugh...gotta avoid that at all costs right now. Just keep moving...keep doing....keep being "supermom" even if I stumble and get my cape dirty.

So yes, as my psychiatrist said...we will take this very slowly. Change will not happen over night and it will be a lot of work. And for those who are willing to understand and support me, I am thankful because they make it a little less frightening and a little more manageable. For those who have chosen to walk away, I am sad...and confused...and really hurt...sad that you couldn't hear me, sad that you couldn't understand, confused that what I had with you all wasn't what I thought it was, and hurt that you gave up...and in essence when I needed you most, when I needed light most I ended up feeling my greatest fear ~ abandonment.

This is an illness...I can't just "snap out of it"...can't change overnight...and can't change the way the illness makes me think and feel...I can try to get help...I can try and do this challenging work of changing some of my actions...and I can take it one step at a time...this will be a daily battle for me for the rest of my life. I will fight the demon that this illness is for every moment of my life, with every breath I take. And some days I'll win, other days the illness may be stronger...hopefully one day I'll win more than not. But until then it is one small step at a time. Just as you wouldn't say to a diabetic "eat this cake and don't have a reaction", you can't say to me "don't think that, don't feel that, it isn't that way ~ you see it wrong"...because what I see, think and feel and A LOT of what I do is controlled by the illness. One day maybe I'll be strong enough to occasionally control the illness instead of it controlling me...but until then I'll have to take it one step at a time as I search for more clarity, understanding and tools.