Daily Dose Of Romance

 

Much better than the original. Chester pined it completely.

No harsh feelings, Adele, but this piece of art is beyond the beauty.

If you haven’t heard this version, please do.

Is anyone out there who agrees with me? 

 

“The scars of your love remind me of us

They keep me thinking that we almost had it all

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless

I

can’t help feeling

We could have had it all……”

 

hands

Dead End- Part Two, Or How To Deal With A BPD Patient

 

panda

Well, I am here.

I went to sleep, around 05:00 A.M. Gratefully and finally.

Woke up at 06:00 A.M. Ungratefully and feeling like a panda. Yeah,a PANDA.

Took a cab, because I was unwilling to drive by myself, ’cause panda’s don’t drive, do they?

Got to my psych, to find the waiting room crowded as it’s a Black Friday sale.

I just stood in the middle of the room, confused, and thinking what to do.

I consider myself as a really, really impatient person, especially when I feel like a panda, and after along night of horror movie with me as a main actress.

So, I just knocked on the door, pretending not to hear the people from the waiting room saying to me…stuff (censored, because I’m a nice and polite person).

I entered without hesitation. My psych was luckily alone, typing on the computer.

She turned around and looked at me with a looked at me as I am batshit crazy.

Well, I am. Batshit crazy. Or a panda. Choose yourself.

“What the hell happened?!”, she asked. I didn’t look in the mirror this morning, just a quick inspection to be sure that I don’t have messy hair.

That’s important, but the panda look is not.  You know, when your mascara is beautifully melted around your eyes giving you that special panda look.

“Well”, I said, “bottom down, didn’t sleep, wanted to kill someone or something, feeling like a crap, and being on the edge”. Telegraphic voice and telegraph speech.

“You sure look like that”.

“I know”. “So, what now?”.

That deep breath she took while nodding her head in disapproval was so comforting.

I was still standing. “Sit down”, she said.

“Don’t want too”.

“As you wish”, she replied annoyed.

“I can only send you right away to the hospital, for an urgency admittance, you know that?”

“Yep”.

“Do you agree?”

“Nope”.

“If you can, please help me without sending me for another three weeks of vacation in the mental ward”,I pledged.

Her smile was so sweet. I wanted to bang her in the head, although knowing she is completely right.

“Ok now…..have you done something to yourself? Planned to?”

“Sure. I was gambling with a couple of options”.

“Oh, Tina”. That deep breath again. “You have to be admitted. You look like hell”.

“A panda”, I replied.

“What? A panda?”, she asked.

“No, I’m not delusional, just sarcastic”, I whispered. “I thought you knew me by now”.

“Can we delay that admittance for a couple of days?I have things to sort out. It’s not that easy, you know?”, I said.

“It’s not easy to let go home someone who admitted self-harm intentions, I cannot do it just like that”.

Now I took a deep breath.

I knew how I looked. I knew what was happening tonight, I knew, but I just didn’t want to go…there, again

“Please”, I said. “I’ll be alright, I promise”.

The eternal silence with her looking at me,and looking, and looking…..

“Ok. Let’s do it this way. You have my number. You should have called me yesterday”.

“At midnight?!”. I was confused.

“Yes, at midnight, 3 A.M., whatever. We are changing the rules, starting now”. Her voice was full of anger. Oh, what a supporting feeling.

“You will get here tomorrow, for a checkup”.

“But…it’s Saturday tomorrow!”

“And so what? I will be here!”, she replied with growing impatience.

“Ok, ok..no problem, just to avoid that place, I’ll do anything”.

“I will prescribe you another med to the ones you already have. You know you are a complete mess, and we have to start antipsychotic again”.

Oh, joy. Again, a trip to the zombie land.

But I nodded with acceptance. I knew she was totally and completely right about it.

“You’ll start immediately. Go home, take off that panda look, and go to bed. Your cell phone will be by your bed. I will call you in the afternoon, and in the evening”.

Even my mother wouldn’t do something like that. She was never so…compassionate?

“You will?”, I asked perplexed.

“Surely and absolutely. Take a week of the work, take a week for yourself. Don’t answer to the calls, of anyone whom you think will disturb you. Just try to focus on yourself. On yourself!”.

I thought that alien replaced my psych.  This wasn’t her. She was usually cold, distant and totally uninterested.

“What happened to you?”, I asked. “You seem like another person, another psych. I have never met you!”.

She laughed.

“Tina, you are coming here so long, and you haven’t noticed anything? I do care. You problem is that you don’t feel it or see it”.

Yeah right, I thought, but in the same time I asked myself if she was in fact right.

BPD patients are hard to correlate with their doctors, often build a wall around them….I know all of that.

And I started to cry. That was an accomplishment for me. And a relief. I felt that somebody is supporting me. Really supporting me.

“Oh, come on now, it will be alright. The fact you have made it to fight yourself and come here in the morning, that’s a sign of a strength and will. You are strong. You can manage it. I am here. We will get you out of this episode, together. All right?”.

I wanted to hug her, so I did. I never ever did that to any other psych before. I felt like someone took a heavy load of me.

She accepted the hug, I felt it.

Suddenly, the peace and the feeling of hope emerged.

It takes so little to make your patient trust you and cooperate.

It takes so little, my  dear psych docs, for the BPD patient to accept you. It takes just a little of a support and understanding. So little, but so much at the same time.

I felt like floating while exiting her office. I knew someone is watching over me, and will be there. That was a tremendous step forward for me.

So, now I’m peacefull like a baby.

And I didn’t even took my meds yet. I will.

I will follow the rules this time. No rebellion like before, because she gave me what I needed.

This time, she gave me what I needed. Not the meds, but the understanding.

Thank you, my dear doc A.

You saved me from myself, and saved me from the vacation in the happy place of the mental hospital.

So guys, it seems I’ll stick around. Not going on a vacation or a longer trip to the Unknown.

I did it. I managed it, and overcome myself.

I am a strong woman, indeed.

Go to hell, you BPD. I will beat you, I know I will!

Yours truly, Tina.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the bottom. Not swimming, but drowning in the misery of the BPD.

I haven’t been posting, for a while.

Why?

I broke, fell apart, sinked to the bottom.

I don’t remember exactly what was I doing for the two past days. It’s a fog of memories.

Mostly I slept not to feel. Not to do anything….to myself.

I thought of ending it once and for all, I couldn’t bear it anymore.

So I took a pill after pill after pill, until I was totally numb and fell asleep.

Did it helped? No. I was looking for a help, my psych is on vacation, I called The Crisis Center,but it didn’t help too much.

They said, that I have to go to my psych hospital (second home,as I call it), but I did not. I don’t want to end there, again. It is three weeks since I left the psych ward, I cannot imagine myself being there locked up, again.

I was, I am still in fact, a wreck.

Going from feeling useless, failure, to self harm thoughts, to suicidal thoughts.

From crying to feeling nothing at all. Empty and numb.

I tried to talk to my family, but they did more harm than good. Our talk ended up in the verbal fight, as my mother, again, tried to be persuasive with her constant and annoying repeating words of how I am overreacting, and do I know how does it make her feel.

Yeah mum, I know. I have been your burden too long. But you have never ever said a word that could make me feel better.

My mum has an amazing power of turning my cries for help into her own misery.  If I feel bad, she makes it even worse, by making me feel guilty and responsible for all the problems in the world. Thanks, mum.

At this moment, I have no clue what to do next. Or better said,what will I do…next.

I’m sorry, but this battle is becoming to hard to fight it.

I feel I have no strength or reasons to fight.

The end.

 

The Boy

 

Snow

 

One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.

 

Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.

 

Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.

 

For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.

 

But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.

 

When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.

 

His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.

 

He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.

 

He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.

 

Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.

 

He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.

 

Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.

 

He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.

 

 

The pills

 

 

The pills

Little ones, big ones
Yellow and white
Making my breakfast bitter
Following me through the day
Reminding me
It is time for a yellow one
It is time for the both of us
It is time.

I do not need a clock.
Pills are my daily guidance.

I hate them so much
That I even can’t look
At the Smartie’s
In the store.

You Are Who You Are, Why Change?

AUDIOSLAVE – BE YOURSELF

 

We are all born into this world different in a perfect genetic chaos, making us unique. Unless, you of course have a twin brother or a sister, then you might consider yourself a little bit not unique.

If the universe wanted it the other way, we would all like the same music, dress the same way, are thoughts would be the same, our lives would be exactly the same.

But the nature itself tends to the chaotic state. It’s natural to be chaotic, to be different than the others who surround you.

I often question myself, what would happen’ if I really accept a long-term psychotherapy and completely change my mindset, my behaviour, my relationships with other people?

Would it still be me? Or someone else?

I know a guy with BPD for many years. When he reached the bottom, and searched for help, he undergo the process of a long psychotherapy sessions.

He is not the same person anymore.

We are still friends, but some of his reactions, sentences, the way he sees the world, is fully changed. I disagree with him a lot. And our friendship is not what it used to be.

In a way, a lost a friend.

I’m glad for him because he leads a normal life, with minor problems now and then, but I would never accept changing myself into someone else.

Sorry, I was born this way. I apologize for all my mistakes, bad manners, harsh words. I did the wrong this in my life. I hurt people, and I am sorry because of that.

But the others have hurt me as well, in a worse and more terrible way then I have done to anybody, ever!

Have they been sent to the psychiatrist? No.

So I choose to by myself.

The way I am.

I have changed only one thing: I brought a lot of kindness, empathy and love towards the others.

My character, though, didn’t change.

If you’re messing with me, it’s not gonna end well for you.

If you are kind to me, I’ll be kind to you.

My personality is who I am, but my attitude depends on you!

That’s why I posted this song.

It says it all.

“Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do!”

 

 

The Coffee, The Pen And The Gun

#TRIGGER WARNING!#

 

coffee and a gun

 

I had a cup of coffee, then two

I took a pen and wrote some notes on the paper

About the future, about the past

I wrote a letter to someone who will care enough to read it

I even draw a picture of the world as I see it

Just a black sheet of emptiness.

 

I don’t like guns

But I feel safe when I have one around

As being attacked too many times in my life

I always bear that feeling of threat incoming towards me.

 

The coffee, the pen and the gun.

I used only two of them.

The third stayed untouched.

 

For how long?

ANTIDEPRESSANTS, NEUROTRANSMITERS AND OTHER YUMMY STUFF

Great post!

Neurotransmiters in our brain, something we need to be sane, to function properly…good read to learn a bit more about your’s brain functioning!

Currently, because of concomitant depression disorder, I am taking venlafaxine (Effexor XR), which have helped me to get out of the cave and start functioning.

This drug is not an SSRI antidepressant, but SNRI, so, as they claim, in higher doses he is working on norepinephrine and dopamine receptors, and not just on the serotonin, as the usual SSRI’s do.

As you can see from the picture, Effexor is covering all of the three neurotransmitters, but only in high dosages, which I take now ( 300 mg a day).

Also, it was the only pill that made me feel human after a long time.

All the others were just like giving me water drops.

I am not making a commercial here, I have friends on other antidepressants that suit them perfectly.

We are just not all the same.

What do you think about this? Antidepressants, your experiences and thoughts?

ENDBPD

Neurotransmitters in the Brain

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I Am My Own Worst Enemy

LINKIN PARK- GIVEN UP

 

I relate to this song in every word that has been written, singed, read, written, felt.

 

“Stuck in my head again

Feels like I’ll never leave this place
There’s no escape

I’m my own worst enemy

I’ve given up
I’m sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say

Take this all away
I’m suffocating
Tell me what the fuck is wrong
With me”

The Borderline Walk On The Line

CAT

The Border that divides me,

From being well and being me.

 

I fear of “recovery”, because I do not know,

If I will recognize myself  in the mirror.

 

Maybe I am just made to be this way.

 

On the Border between pain and even more pain, walking the line (Thank you Johnny Cash).

Paint It Black

“I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and I must have it painted black
Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black” -Rolling Stones.

 

 

Darkest of darkness I have ever seen,

Turned into a crack filled with the pitch-black starless space.

 

I merged into it, floating on the surface desperately,

While I was unwilling,  and slowly, consumed absolutely.

 

I turned into black, the darkness pure,

The Soul, the Heart and the Mind full of the gloomy fury.

 

Is there blackest than the deepest black?

Could the darkness I’ve become,

Turn into the substance more mournful than it is?

 

Do not wake me up,

Until the whole black mayhem is scrubbed away.

Do not make me feel,

Until the colors reappear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Money Doesn’t Mean Anything To Me

money

 

Auntie Jane died.

First of all, I didn’t know I had an auntie, or that she was called Jane.

Nevermind, the half of my family is lost all around the globe, so that part didn’t surprised me.

 

She left me some money, my advocate said.  “Ok”, I replied, ” so what?”

“It’s a big amount of money”, he said excited.

“Ok”, I said once more, “so what?”

“”We are talking about one million dollars here!”, he said on a verge  of a nervous breakdown.

“Ok”, I repeated calmly, “so fucking what?”.

 

The silence. The look on his face which reminded me on one patient in a Psych ward, long ago. Psychotic.

 

“Will you take the money? There are no other ancestors except of you!”.

 

“Ok”, I said again, “I will”, I declared,  “but please, until tomorrow I want papers to be ready””.

 

Confused, he asked : “What papers? For what?”

 

“For the donations. I will e-mail you the list of the institutions and funds which I will give the money”.

“All of it?!”. Now he was almost shaking.

“Yes, all of it. Is there a problem?”.

“No..absolutely not…but I thought…you will…”.

“Keep it for myself”, I ended his sentence.

“Yes”, he said.

” No I want. The money makes no sense to me. Not anymore. See you tomorrow, with the papers on the table, all right?”.

With a face of confused lunatic,he just nodded without replying.

 

I exited that grey old building. The stink of the past made me sick.

Now I was perfectly ready for a cup of coffee, preferably while sitting on a bench in a park, and watching the birds fly freely around.

That would make my day, I concluded and agreed with myself.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/gone-with-the-windfall/

 

The Beer, The Impending Doom And A Glass Of Whiskey

 

“And on my deathbed I will pray to the gods and the angels,

Like a pagan to anyone who will take me to heaven;

To a place I recall, I was there so long ago.

The sky was bruised, the wine was bled, and there you led me on.”

 

Surrounded by people I call friends, surrounded by people I call relatives, holding onto my beer, firmly.

 

Voices all around me. Making noise and not sense. Attacking me.

 

I hate gatherings. I hate being surrounded. I do not feel good. In fact, I feel awful.

 

In my head, the movie begins:

I am standing up on the table, throwing the bottle to the ground. The sound of broken glass makes everyone to look at me.

And then I start to yell. To each of them I tell everything I wanted to tell for a long time, but I didn’t, ’cause I was polite.

But not tonight.

After I told what I had to say, I break at least two tables and chairs. One chair is thrown into a window.

I can feel glass flying right into me, sticking into my flesh, the warmth of blood leaking slowly down my body.

And if that’s not enough, there’s always a Glock to finish the situation.

 

But the beer is not cold anymore.

And I’m on the verge of an incident.

Laughing next to me, my friend poured accidentally a glass of wine, ruining her perfect dress with lovely flowers.

To me, the dress looks so much better now.

 

I am getting of the table and walking away without saying goodbye.

I hear my name being called, but I’m not turning or responding.

 

The car, the road and me.

 

“Save me from myself, save me from myself….”, repeating into my mind like a broken record player.

 

After few cuts I’ll be fine. Pouring a full glass of whiskey makes me almost happy. The sound and the scent of the glass filling to the top.

Killing the beast is not easy, and I will do all I can, to make it go away.

 

General principles of prescribing in Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

I truly admire this Q and A feature…It gives a lot of info about BPD.

Multiple Choice Questions (MCQs) in Psychiatry

1. True or False
  1. The prevalence of BPD in in-ward patients is close 1%
  2. The suicide rate among BPD patients is similar to that seen in patients with affective disorder or schizophrenia
  3. Symptoms waxes and wanes in patients with BPD
  4. Drugs are usually used continuously
2. True or False Re: Management of a crisis in BPD
  1. Use of sedatives are recommended
  2. Use of SSRIs are extremely safe
  3. BDZ may reduce impulsiveness
  4. APs can be used without any adverse side effects for the purpose of sedations
  5. Promethazine is a recommended drug
3. True or False
  1. BPD predicts poorer response to treatment in depression
  2. BPD predicts poorer response to treatment in OCD
  3. Symptoms often improve in an unexpected way
  4. Close to 50% of patients with BPD may also have bipolar spectrum disorder.
  5. Lithium is licensed for the control of aggressive behaviour or intentional self-harm

Answers               …

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The Borderline World. Mine World. Maybe yours, too.

The Borderline World. Mine World. Maybe yours, too.

This definition of NORMAL inspires me every day, because, who can even say “what” is normal, or “who” is normal?
I refuse to be sentenced by the diagnosis I bear, I am much more than Borderline Personality. I am me.
Maybe I am also “normal”, even many people refuse to give me that option, day by day.