Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

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The drinking culture.

October 17, 2011

There are two kinds of people who don’t drink. The extreme religious types and recovering alcoholics. I am neither and I don’t drink, yes I used to be very religious and learned my morals from a church but now I am no longer part of a religion I have chosen to keep the values which I feel will benefit my life. I don’t know if I will ever understand the concept of getting drunk for fun. I am not slating any of you who drink as I respect your right do to so, so please don’t attack me unnecessarily. I just don’t get it? I understand how someone would drink to numb the pain or self abuse but for fun? I am someone who constantly feels out of control and the last thing I would want is to really be out of control. As a young adult it does make me feel a bit of an outcast that I don’t want to drink alcohol and get drunk but then I’ve tried it once or twice and just felt like a fraud. It just wasn’t me, it wasn’t what I wanted to do. So now I’m weird because I don’t do it. I just don’t see how making an idiot out of yourself and then throwing up continuously can be seen as exciting? It sounds frightening to me. I don’t want to lose self respect or wonder who I may have slept with. I’ve had so many people really attack me for saying I don’t want to drink, it’s like instead of people hearing “I don’t like drinking alcohol” they hear “I hate black people”. I wrote this post because I was discussing Uni with a friend and he said “I’ve heard the first year of Uni is great because you get to get pissed all the time!” Great…I thought, isn’t University about studying for your future? All I hear outside my window every night are drunk people screaming or shouting at or attacking each other and it makes me scared. I remember a “friend” who said I was very high and mighty because I don’t like getting drunk and I just felt like I was talking to a brick wall. Everything I said was wrong and to him I hated everyone who drank alcohol but that’s not true. I dislike the alcohol. I have people in my family who NEED to drink to be sociable or loosen up and it makes me sad that they can’t achieve these things without being a little intoxicated. It’s a problem that nobody sees as a problem. We should be able to have fun without alcohol shouldn’t we? I can’t even count how many time I’ve heard “How can you have fun without drinking?!” And I just think well, I just don’t drink and enjoy other people’s company or whatever I’m doing. Isn’t it that simple? I’m not saying don’t have a drink to have fun I’m just saying people shouldn’t think it’s impossible to enjoy life without a few drinks. I’ve known alcoholics and how destroyed their lives can become and how it effects the people around them. Yet we freely allow ourselves to say “I need a few drinks to get loosened up.” There shouldn’t be a need…right? Or am I just horribly ignorant…Why am I so horribly different? And why do I have to feel so outcast because I want to have control and don’t enjoy the taste of alcohol. I don’t understand. All addictions are harmful and I just wish people were more careful. There are so many people who when they are upset, get a drink. That’s one of the bad habits that can turn anyone into an alcoholic. And nobody deserves to have to suffer with addiction. That’s why I don’t drink. If only I didn’t feel the need to have an excuse to not drink.

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Self pity.

August 28, 2011

I’m not usually this bad. I simply have to turn the TV on now and I started crying. I watched the simpsons and Homer told Lisa he loved her and I started crying so I turned over to supernanny and the mother was playing happily with her children and I started crying so I turned over to X factor (as a last resort) and the singer was getting praise from the judges and his family and himself were so happy with his achievement so I just turned the bloody thing off. Everything was reducing me to tears. Everything is such a mess. Yes I may be getting away from it all but I’m leaving behind a hospitalised father and a mother who I suspect has autism. She doesn’t recognise that I have ever done anything to make her life any better, although I have been dad’s carer all my life and slept in the same bed with her for 5 years of my late childhood because she said if I didn’t dad would rape her. I’m leaving and all she can do is tell me how useless I am. I’m trying to think of moving forward and starting the new but seeing what a mess my parents are in tears me apart. I don’t feel guilt, I just feel shame and pity. Most teens moving out of home have parental support, while I’m still crying over the fact that my dad can’t even see me off into a new life because he’s in the psych ward. What a way to leave. I’ve always hated the expression “why me?” because the people who use it are often getting upset over a tiny matter in their otherwise okay life but I’m going to say it…Why me? I’m a good person. I don’t know what I did to make all of this happen.

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A History- Part 1

March 22, 2011

I got this idea from my friend http://mrshughbankshopewithbpd.blogspot.com/2011/03/who-is-this-person-pt1.html

I haven’t blogged for a while, it’s been strange because I would blog almost every week and in a way it’s good that I haven’t been blogging because it shows that things have been more or less “okay” (in comparison to the usual chaos of course). I do miss it though so I thought as I don’t have much to write about at the moment that I would tell you the history of me and how I came to be here writing this blog now.

Early Years

I was always a quiet child, that’s what I remember, my family describe me as a sweet natured quiet little girl.

My mum couldn’t understand my demands as a child. I wasn’t a needy child but children do have needs and my mum wasn’t prepared to fulfill those needs. I began to realise that It was best for me to be quiet because screaming wouldn’t get me noticed or cared for and If I wanted to be cared for I would get it when it was appropriate for the other person. I learnt that my needs weren’t important. Sometimes I would scream and cry for a toy because I would always get it and this became a pattern, I realised that my screaming and crying did work for material WANTS. I always felt that my needs as a child meant that I was too much hassle, I have always felt that I am too much to deal with. So I wouldn’t make a fuss, I wouldn’t complain because I knew that all my demands were unreasonable. No one would fulfill my needs, if I needed comfort, it wouldn’t be fulfilled so clearly I was unreasonable. I learnt that I was unreasonable and asked too much from my parents, when in reality I was only asking for the things a child needs. Comfort, affection, someone I could go to with my problems. It didn’t happen. I was taught through this that if things are bad and if you aren’t satisfied with something then you just get on with it and shut up because no one cares and no one will help you.

I did have friends as a child, although most of them were false. I wasn’t a very attractive little girl in my later childhood and of course I was bullied for this. I had a few best friends but they all bullied me at some point or another or left me for someone “better”, I always felt other people were better than me. And looks played a big part in this, as a child I figured that the prettier you were the better person you were, the more liked (A habit of thought I’m still yet to fully get out of). I’ve heard many people say “everyone gets bullied” and that may true to an extent but not everyone gets bullied and then has no parental support to help overcome that fear and self esteem knock. THAT, I feel, is the key behind who actually gets severely affected by bullying. One of my best friends ‘G’ was very pretty, she was skinny and blonde, I was overweight with long, messy brown hair. We both had a friend called Z who lived in our street and we both liked him and of course he liked her back and they were boyfriend and girlfriend for a little while, I don’t know how they broke up…how do primary school kids even break up? Anyway, he favoured her and she would rub it in my face. It didn’t seem fair, what was wrong with me? Why did everyone bully me? Why did I have to be so unattractive? I stayed friends with her, of course, I wanted to know how to be like her so people would like me. It wasn’t fair. Then there was L she had a disfunctional home too she was older, always nice to me, unless there were other people around. She would then make fun of me infront of people to get their approval. We would play hide and seek and I was left in my hiding place while L and her friends left me there. They would laugh at me and laugh until I cried and ran home and none of them ever apologised. L just waited for me to come back to her again.

At primary school I was friends with a group of girls, there were 5 of us. The pretty girls would call us freaks and because of all their taunting sometimes I didn’t want to be friends with them because if the “better” girls thought they were freaks then they must be. What mixed up and horrible thinking, and this is in primary school. My beliefs of people were (are sometimes still are) based upon what the more attractive of our species believe because I’m just dying to be liked and accepted by those who are liked and accepted by the rest of the world. When you’re bullied for your looks, this is how you start to think. Beautiful people are better. I am still friends with one of those girls in that group and I’m sorry for how I felt sometimes, I’m not scared to be your friend because you’re much better than them, you wouldn’t judge or hurt a soul. The most gentle and loving of all the girls I know. Katy ❤

I sometimes see those bullies from primary school and I flinch and hide my face. They, of course, are even more beautiful as women now and I feel like I shrink and become insignificant. Sidetracked…

My first brush with mental illness was at the age of 6, my dad’s breakdown. I know you’ve heard the story a bazillion times but I’m trying to include everything. My dad has a psychotic episode, he has been made redundant and as a result his bipolar went haywire and he became psychotic. He was violent and frightening, he would sometimes scream at me without warning and not recall doing so the next minute. My father is a gentle person yet his illness caused him to become violent towards me. He was quietly angry and it would come out when I was “naughty”. The police were called and he was taken away. To where? I didn’t know. Why? Well mum said dad was mad and she would laugh. So I became frightened of people with mental illness from that point onwards. My understanding was that they took crazy people away because they were violent, bad people. But then, he was my dad and I couldn’t believe that of him. So I believe that my splitting may have stemmed somewhat from this view of my dad being jekyll and Hyde. I couldn’t put them both together. They were two separate people.

I was never a naughty child, that I can remember but I always remember being called bad or naughty or as my mum would say to other parents “she’s drives me mad, she’s a devil really”. I would get mad that she would tell other parents that I was bad because I was so well behaved. I wanted to please and be liked. I never got in trouble at school, ever. My favourite time of every year was parents evening where the teachers would tell my parents how good I was and my dad would buy me fish and chips for being a “good girl”. I longed to be told I was good. The only time I was ever grounded was when G was teaching me to ride a bike and I was going down a large hill, I was so scared I froze and swerved into a car. A complete accident yet I was told I was bad and was grounded. I could have been seriously hurt and instead I was punished for an accident because accidents were the only time I ever did anything wrong. If I knocked something over my mistake I was shouted at and told I was a “bad child” and was hit. I would cry and hide in my room. It wasn’t like a deliberately walked over to a stack of papers and throw them on the floor, it was a mistake but I wasn’t allowed to make mistake or I would be hurt. You can see the reasons for my perfectionism. I have to do everything right out of fear of being condemned to being a bad person.

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Conversations with mother and the running mouth of a mother in law.

January 30, 2011

Well as with any interaction I have with my mother it was an unpleasant and upsetting one. I said to her we’d go get her a dress for the wedding and said I’d get her something nice and classy then said (as a joke) “but you can’t look nicer than me!” with which she replied that I’m going to get all the attention like I did when I was a baby. That no one cared about her but were cooing over me.

1. I was a baby, that’s what people do.

2. It’s my wedding day, of course me and J get the attention, it’s not bride’s mother appreciation day.

I know she bitter because I want to sit with my friends on my wedding day and with comments like that you can understand why. It would be hell having parents at the head table, his parents would be screaming at eachother and my dad would be dropping food down himself while I try and stop him making a mess, while my mum sat in silence and moped that she was sitting next to dad. How lovely does that sound?

I want to sit with my best friend and giggle and cry tears of happiness while J and his best friend on the other side of me talking about male things and feeling happy. With us being able to turn to eachother with smiles on our faces, I don’t want to sit there feeling miserable and J have to hold me and tell me “it will be okay soon”. The whole room would be able to tell that we were miserable by the way we’d be sitting so close to eachother and trying to be as far away to the people that produced us as possible. We do love our parents but they have treated us so poorly, you could say to me “it’s not easy being a parent”. No, it’s not but there is no excuse for abuse, emotional or physical. It breaks my heart that I can’t have my parents emotionally at my wedding but then I have to accept that they won’t be there and I have to break away from the hope that they will change.

I can see myself sitting there wanting my parents but then knowing it won’t make me happier on the day.

A girl wants her dad there especially, to walk her down the aisle and to say how proud he is of her. The Bipolar monster has taken that opportunity away from me and that is another reason why I will fight this until I die. I don’t want another little girl (or boy)  to lose her dad (or mum) to this illness. I want my dad to walk me down the aisle so much, it makes me cry just thinking about him not being there for me. It hurts to my core. If it could happen I would be so thankful but his depression and shaking and lack of concentration could be utter choas.

Now, the mother in law thing. I got a phonecall from a sweet old lady called M saying how happy she is for me and J, that she understands how the church made me ill because of people running their mouths and telling both of us that neither of us were worthy of eachother. She said that J’s mum had expressed her disagreement of marriage and said that I need hospital treatment. M proceeded to say that both J and I have had to grow up young and are beyond our years because of the responsibilities that we have had to take on having disabled parents but J’s mother would have none of this. She refused to see that her son was a man and saw him as a child. Now you can see from this where the problems arise. Both of us have had constant invalidation of our feelings and no recognition of our achievements, no “I’m proud of you for struggling through this” due to the preoccupation of our parents on themselves. As soon as someone brings up our struggle or our hard times, our parents say “What about us?” Sure they matter too but it’s the fact that they only see themselves.

WE MATTER TOO. And now, it’s too late.

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Moving on.

January 3, 2011

To move on from your past is almost an impossible thing as your past moulds who you are. To literally move on as in geographically seems almost as impossible for me. I have a chance to get away forever, to start a new life, start afresh away from the place where all my life I have grown and been broken down. You may think, how great to be able to get away finally. But no, It doesn’t feel great. I have lived here 18 years, although it holds horrible memories, it is what I have always known. To change everything is completely petrifying.

Of course I want to get away but I feel the same way with it as I do about my anxiety. I don’t want the anxiety but it’s what I’ve always known and it keeps me safe. My room is my safe place, it always has been. To change the familiar is like throwing yourself into a pit of fear and never ending anxiety with stabbing pains all over your body.

I admire people who can be happy about new changes that will no doubt improve their lives but it’s like I can’t be happy because of those fears and anxieties. If I leave, I have to be completely independent and it means I HAVE to cope. I’m forcing myself to cope and it could have quite dangerous consequences. It is inevitably throwing myself right into the deep end. The options seem to be that I’ll either paddle well for a little while and then sink or first sink to the bottom until I can learn to swim in it. I do believe I will sink, very deep but it’s only to be expected, it’s scary I won’t be happy about it at first. But I know that gradually I will learn. If I had to do it alone I know I would be much worse off and wouldn’t be leaving anyway. It is J that is helping me move forward in life, even if it’s only a small step forward and then I have time to be depressed, readjust and maybe not move forward anymore for a little while. It’s a big thing to do and everything needs to move forward a small bit at a time to prevent an emotional breakdown. I feel luck to have someone who understand that I need to takes things a lot slower than “normal” people. That I can’t just walk out of the door everyday with a smile on my face and that sometimes I may not even be able to walk out of the door.

Understanding is key and I know sometimes he may not understand but his caring and love for me is understand for him to not have to understand all of what’s going on. The amount of support he’s willing to give me is like a voice saying “You’ve got this far and now he’s here to make it all better. He will allow you to heal.” But then to not be able to support him in the same way will make me feel selfish, I just hope my emotional support is of more worth than financial support.

And let’s hope the panic attacks stop! I have therapy again on wednesday after 2 weeks, I’m not sure If I’m looking forward to it. When I told Dr L I was moving and that I was excited she asked me a lot of questions I didn’t have the answer to. “How will you cope when he’s not at home?” “What about meeting new people?” Therapy can sometimes have the opposite effect. I was thinking of the positives yet she brought up the negatives, It made me confused but then understandable that she would ask me such things because she knows I would block those things out and then break when I have to tackle them. I just don’t want to think about the bads thigns because hopefully they wouldn’t happen and I’d just cope. As I always have.

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It’s not acceptable.

December 24, 2010

I know you probably still read this blog after blocking
communication with me, you got mad at me and blocked me online and
I felt so relieved. You had no right to get mad at me, you made me
uncomfortable, I am over 30 years younger than you and you would
say things that were damn right innapropriate, you would say you
loved me and that I was beautiful and it made me so anxious.
Basically, It’s really creepy for an older man to say these things
to someone who is 18. I know you make other people nervous too, you
need to set some boundaries, you shouls tell your wife you love her
but not young girls, especially not me and my best friend. You made
J nervous too, he didnt know you well and you were saying you loved
me. You actually argued with J and it basically ended up as an
argument over me! What is wrong with you? You don’t argue over
someones girlfriend! I’m too scared to make new friendships now
because I’m worried that they may try and be too close to me, that
they might become creepy and make me so uncomfortable. I hate
myself for letting it get that far but I’ve never learnt how to set
boundaries and the only way I knew was to keep ignoring you unto
you left me alone because you got mad. Maybe one day you’ll learn
some boundaries. I wish others would tell you though because
they’ve sure told me. I am terrified of you. Utterly terrified. My
social anxiety has amplified. You said that you had another friend
with BPD and that she didnt want to see you anymore. You blamed her
BPD but no it is you, you are clingy, I know you may still blame
the illness but as I said I know people who have told me you scare
them too. Dont send me another card or any texts. Delete my number.
Your card arrived and I started shaking, get away from me. Maybe
one day I can have friends again without having to worry they will
be inappropriately close to me.

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I want my Mummy and Daddy.

December 20, 2010

He can’t be your daddy

To leave home will be heartbreaking. Though, I need to escape from this horrible place and start my life with someone who will look after me, there’s still the fight against him, I don’t want J to look after me, I want my parents. I want them to look after me, it’s not his job, it’s thiers. It’s always been thier’s. With the care (as such) being passed over it’ll feel like they can finally say I am no longer their responsibility meaning that it’ll be the end of my pathetic struggle to ask them to care for me. When I cry J will look after me but I know that through my whole life I will yearn for my mother or father comforting me. That’s not to say that I won’t want J to look after me but I will always have that yearning. For a parent.

I don’t want him to end up feeling like a parent because it’ll only cause problems in the relationship. I know that the reason our relationship can get difficult is because of my parental attachments. It’s all  things you learn when you study psychology.

The Strange Situation

The procedure, known as the ‘Strange Situation’, was conducted by observing the behaviour of the caregiver and the infant in a series of seven 3-minute episodes, as follows:

(1) Parent and infant alone.

(2) Stranger joins parent and infant.

(3) Parent leaves infant and stranger alone.

(4) Parent returns and stranger leaves.

(5) Parent leaves; infant left completely alone.

(6) Stranger returns.

(7) Parent returns and stranger leaves.

Mary Ainsworth was particularly interested in observing the following aspects of the infant’s behaviour:

·         Separation anxiety

·         Stranger anxiety

·         Reaction when reunited with parent

Secure Attachment Resistant Attachment Avoidant Attachment
Separation anxiety Distressed when mother leaves 

 

Infant shows signs of intense distress Infant shows no sign of distress when mother leaves
Stranger anxiety 

Avoidant of stranger when alone but friendly when mother present. Infant avoids the stranger – shows fear of stranger Infant is okay with the stranger and plays normally when stranger is present
Reunion behaviour 

Positive and happy when mother returns. Child approaches mother but resists contact, may even push her away Infant shows little interest when mother returns.
Other Will use the mother as a safe base to explore their environment. Infant cries more and explores less than the other 2 types Mother and stranger are able to comfort infant equally well
% of infants 70 15 15

I am resistant. When my mum would leave to go on holiday I would cry and cry and cry and when she came back I would ignore her, she was undeserving of my affection after leaving me with no knowledge if she were coming back. I remember when studying psychology we learnt about this and feeling so depressed because I knew I was in the 15% that was different, that was a little broken. I wonder what it’s like to be secure, to be able to be in a normal healthy relationship that isn’t riddled with fear of abandonment and dependency. I wonder what person I would be now.

I can’t change this

It’s the truth. I can’t change what has happened to me, I can only change how I try and deal with it. There are some things that are so ingrained that I feel they will always be with me and I guess it’s just finding the things that can be altered that’s the challenge. Maybe, if my relationship were better with my parents it’d be better with J? No. If they started caring now, I would regress to a child and try and live here as long as I could to finally be babied, loved and forever be a child. I need to find a way to let go, to let go of them and let go of any hope that they are going to change and suddenly be parents. My marriage and my family won’t be like any other family, I know I will be a dependent mother, I will cling to the feeling of my children needing me. I need to learn before then to accept that people sometimes need to leave and that I cannot hold onto them forever, that everyone needs their own life and it won’t always revolve around me. No matter how much I want it to. This will be so hard for J and I know he’ll need to be so strong and work so hard to keep me sane and I feel guilty that he has chosen me, I know that elsewhere his life would be easier.