A is for Autism?

Hi guys I hope you're all having a good 2022 so far? So as most of you will know I've struggled with mental illness for most of my life; Borderline Personality Disorder and OCD. But it turns out there might be another element to the miswiring of my brain.

My friend Ian suggested that I may actually be on the Autistic Spectrum, at first I wasn't sure although as we were walking along I asked if being 'on the spectrum' might account for how clumsy I am...... Just as I walked into a post 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️.

I decided to look into the possibility of having an ASD (Autistic Spectrum Disorder) and it turns out that I fit a lot of the criteria. Historically ASD has been far more likely to be diagnosed in boys and young men than it has in girls and young women. Girls often learn to'mask' their symptoms from an early age and are apparently notoriously hard to diagnose, hence a lot of women not being diagnosed with Autism or other disorders such as ADHD or Dyspraxia until well into adulthood.

I read some articles online and also spoke to a friend who was only diagnosed with ADHD in her 30s who offered me a lot of insight. I didn't want to self-diagnose via Dr Google so I did a deep dive into the subject (a classic 'intense interest'). I started by asking my Counsellor if she thought I could have both BPD & OCD and she said it was most likely that my BPD grew out of the problems and traumas caused by being on the spectrum. 

I found an author called Sarah Hendrickx and her book Women And Girls With Autistic Spectrum Disorder which gave me so many 'lightbulb' moments. Another book I found useful was I Think I Might Be Autistic  by Cynthia Kim. There was also a wealth of information on YouTube channels such as Yo Samdy Sam, The Aspie Word and Purple Ella. However one video stuck out for me in particular which was Autism & Borderline Personality Disorder by Kate Emily Brinly. Watching it was like watching someone describe my childhood and teenage years and the struggles I had.

So what are the symptoms that have led me to consider ASD as a possibility? First off and the most obvious I would say is my 'weirdness' (or 'individuality' on a good day), since I was a really young kid I've always felt different and strange. I wouldn't react to things in the same way other kids did, I would struggle with anything different to what I expected (I remember a meltdown because we had a supply teacher one day), I was always happier reading or playing alone, at lunchtimes I would rather spend time with the dinner ladies than my friends who I'd invariably been dropped by.Obviously the move to secondary school was hell, looking back now I think this is where a lot of my emotional 'BPD' symptoms grew from. This was where I was badly bullied and sexually assaulted and had to deal with constantly shifting situations, taking people who were pretending to be my friends for their own ulterior motives at face value. 

One of my most obvious symptoms that any of my friends and family will recognise is my, er slightly obsessive personality to put it mildly. From micro-obsessions that don't last long (although this has been useful in focusing me on my research) to the all consuming ones about people, music, films (although I think watching Top Gun or The Lion King repeatedly is a talent!), stories or er planes. My family and friends have had to put up with so much waffling and repeating about them over the years (another thing that made me a target at school was talking about them to anyone who would listen) and probably being bored stiff by them 😳.

There are absolutely tons more characteristics that fit me and my life experience - being incredibly sensitive to other's moods & actions or topics that upset me, missing social queues such as when to and not to talk (sorry I interrupt so much), being good at some subjects (English, Languages) and appalling at others (Maths or anything with numbers brings me out in a cold sweat), clinginess to those I trust and escaping to into my own fantasy worlds to avoid the difficulties and hurt of real life. There are others I could list but this would be more like a novel than a blog 😂.

On Friday I plucked up the courage to message my GP and ask for a referral to be assessed for Autism. Not only did he reply almost immediately but also praised me for all the research I'd done. This gave me such a sense of relief that I was believed enough to go through to the 'next stage' of the diagnostic process. The waiting list for an appointment is incredibly long so it may be quite a wait to be seen but I do feel confident that I should get the diagnosis.

I hope that if I do get the diagnosis I can start to forgive myself for the way I acted when I was younger that made me a target. It really wasn't 'my fault' I actually couldn't help it, it's how my brain has developed.

I shall keep you guys updated on the progress of my getting a diagnosis 🤞🏻🤞🏻.

Love Jen

XxxX

Ps A Plane Geek on the spectrum who'dve thought it 😱😂😂😂

BPD Warp

Sometimes I think my brain can't break any further but it never fails to surprise me.

Another lack of surprise is that the rubbish Psychiatrist who told me almost a year ago now that I would be put on DBT despite it actually not being offered in our area. He also assured me that I would "grow out" of my symptoms and when I queried it I was told "I am the expert" 💁🏻‍♀️. So after 10 months of chasing after I'd been dropped off like a stone by the local mental health services I was told that they don't offer DBT in the East Sussex area and that I wouldn't be eligible for it since I wasn't able to complete the Anxiety Management course they ran (put it this way I cut myself in the interval). 

So apparently I'm on the list to do a STEPPS course which sounds faintly horrific, telling a group of strangers about your problems for 22 weeks and doing 'homework' of detailing where I've gone wrong and then dragging family into it too. No thank you.

At the moment I'm back to hiding in my room, not wanting to see anyone, even doing the weekly online quiz that I loved is too much for me. I have to avoid going to the end of the garden when the kids are heading to and from school as its just too triggering for me. 

My brain makes me think that everyone is always cross with me whether it's walking too slowly, being disorganised, sleeping too much etc etc or that they don't give a shit and I'm cluttering up their lives and re-inforces my need to stay away from everyone. I used to enjoy taking Eos to agility but now I get so stressed as I feel like I'm being scrutinised and keep messing up. I've missed 4 gigs now not due to Covid but because my brain can't cope with leaving the house.

I just don't know how long I can keep this up. I can feel everything building up with no release. 

Love Jen

XxxX

Autumn Blues

 September is here and with it brings my annual Autumn and Winter sadness. Not content with being the bane of my life all year round my mental illness likes to pop dark half of the year struggles as a cherry on top.

Obviously my struggles with this time of year go way back, even as a kid I remember feeling sad when the days shortened and the temperature dropped along with the leaves. Most people love Autumn and it's colours and seasonal drinks (pumpkin spiced white hot chocolate if you're offering) and even I 'm not immune to snapping photos of red and orange trees but to me it's a sign of things to come. 

"But Jen" I here you cry "What about Halloween, warm drinks, being cosy?" . Whilst it's true that Halloween is my favourite day of the year and I love decorating for it and, back in more normal times, hosting parties the holiday is about welcoming the dark half of the year and that's what I struggle with.

I think part of the problem is that the UK's Autumns are mostly not the picture postcards of beautiful colours that you see from America but rather battleship grey skies, rain and wind. I can handle the strong winds but I utterly despise rain.

Of course even I can work out where my real psychological problems stem from, nobody needs to be  a genius there, it's the time of skipping off back to school and I don't need to recount everything here but you all know what happened there. Let me explain how big a problem this became. When I was younger we always used to go on holiday to France for the last two weeks of August immediately after the airshow. Whilst I tried so hard to immerse myself in the good times the moment we got on the ferry at Newhaven to go across to Europe my depression would start. 

I used to hate myself for it and think there was something wrong and ungrateful about me for being so unhappy when so many people would have loved to be on holiday with their far. Looking back of course this was my BPD making itself known. In the back of my mind I knew the days were counting down until I'd be returning to my own personal hell. 

Aside from September being 'back to school' it also seems to coincide with other bad times, I don't know if it's all related but two of the times I've been signed off work have been at this time of year.

I think what's making this year a struggle already is my inactivity and losing the energy and confidence to do things over this summer. I feel like I've 'slept through summer' and I know this is no-one's fault but my own but the meds that I'm on plus just sleeping off bad moods have constantly conspired to make staying in bed the only viable option at times. Add to that a second year of a lack of my normal summer activities makes me feel like once again the season has been wasted. Whilst I'm incredibly grateful that I made it to Bournemouth Air show yesterday I've now got 'post fun event' blues to contend with too 🤦.

I'm struggling to cope with the idea of Autumn already and we're only 6 days into September ......

Love Jen

XxxX

A Brief Encounter

I'm currently in a state of not knowing whether to crack up laughing or sob hysterically which is slightly abnormal even for me on a Friday morning.

So Mum and I like to go swimming once a week (yep I get my blubbery form into a swimming costume and hope not to get harpooned) and towards the end of our swim one of the lifeguards came over and asked me if I went to the same school as he did. The answer was of course yes, although I did wittily say "yes for my sins" (more on that later) 

And yes, he was part of the crowd who made my life a living hell and was there when I got groped in front of a class of 28 other 11 year olds and laughed along with them. And here he is now greeting me like an old friend.

He said "awww you don't look any different" which rankles a huge amount as I've spent most of my post-school life trying to change the appearance of who I was then, I've spent a lot of sterling on tattoos, piercings, cool goth clothes to cover up that girl. I also noted the irony of talking to him whilst in a swimsuit in my obese state with marks of my arms and legs being the legacy of those 5 years of hell and the effect its had on my mental health for the best part of 20 years. 

I politely asked if he still saw anyone from school and he mentioned one person who goes to the same church as him 🤦🏻‍♀️. He then asked if I went because of my 'sins' quip 🤣. He finished off our conversation saying that next time we bump into each other he wanted to get my number so we could go for a cup of tea 😱. So many WTFs from that, firstly am I supposed to suddenly be all friendly with someone who was a complete cunt to me. Secondly why the hell would he want to spend time with someone who he hated for 5 years and thirdly and most hilariously I'm a full blown tarot-reading witch with an alter and loads of pretty and interesting books on the history of magic and the occult.

As amusing as it is, I'm feeling horrible and unsettled and sick. A flood of memories have come back, ones that I don't want and emotions that I really don't need right now.....

Love Jen

XxxX

EMDR Diaries - Pushing Pause

Hi everyone hope you're all doing as OK as possible? As my blog readers will know I've been undergoing EMDR therapy to try and help with some of the traumatic experiences that have seriously affected my mental health. 

My counsellor and I started off gradually covering experiences that were lower down my 'trauma scale'. We started off by working on a bad workplace experience (the link for that blog and an explanation of EMDR can be found here). We then moved on to losing my beautiful Stelly. The aim isn't for you to forget the events but to take some of the 'sting' out of them. For example when it comes to Stelly when I think about losing her I no longer blame myself for what happened, nor do I feel such overwhelming emotion. Instead I've been able to focus on my lovely memories of her and all the mischief she and Esme used to get up to (don't worry Esme still gets up to enough mischief on her own) and yes feel sad, mourn her and miss her but without such an intense reaction.

The next plan was to start working on the bullying trauma, which is the really big one that has shaped who I am still to this day. We had one whole session and a half session of trying but I felt nothing. EMDR works on your physical reactions to memories, for example when I was focusing on Stelly I was actually 'sick' (without actually being sick or retching it was the weirdest sensation) or when we were working on the work problems my forearms tingled where I used to cut them to relieve the stress). So to feel absolutely nothing to the point of being numb was really odd. Essentially I think my brain has tried to detach itself so far from school that I can't connect the physical reactions.

After trying for the first half hour of a session with no reaction we decided to try and see if I could work through the sexual assault and some other uncomfortable experiences of that nature I've had. I connected with this and had some quite unpleasant sensations that I won't detail here as they are quite triggering for anyone who happens to be reading who's had similar experiences (🤗🤗🤗 to you if you have).

Unfortunately I've had to pause the sessions temporarily as the memories, thoughts and feelings that it bought up were pretty overwhelming and lead to me self-harming again and feeling 'unsafe' (my code word for suicidal). I was back to feeling disgusted with my body and self as a whole, before my first experience in the first few weeks of secondary school I'd never really thought about my body that much but it was after that my feelings of disgust and general embarrasment around how I look started and never left. Put it this way even when I was thin I felt uncomfortable, imagine how gross I feel now 🤣.

It also dredged up my memories of being 'frigid' and 'unnatural' due to my own sexual dysfunction (one of the large factors as to why I'd never entertain being in a relationship again). My fear about how people see me, benefit of dressing like a goth and being fat is that no-one looks at you as being potentially attractive - a top tip there (you're welcome 🤣).

So due to all of the above the EMDR has been paused until I can become a bit more stable again (lots of other life worries at the moment so it may be some time). I do want to continue as these memories need to be worked though alongside some others such as deaths of friends and family, relationship breakdowns etc.

On a cheerful note to end the blog I've been doing plenty of Halloween 🦇 🎃 decoration shopping (if you follow me on good ole Instagram jenraefrances you'll have been spammed with pictures and videos in my stories) and I was wondering if anyone would like to see blogs about them and my Halloween prepping in the run up to the big day! Let me know.

Love Jen

XxxX

What Would Marie Kondo Do?

I don't know if any of you guys have watched the Marie Kondo series that's been on Netflix just over a year? Where she goes into people's houses and helps them declutter and tidy up. Having an exceptionally tidy friend I watched all of them 🤣 and this morning I can't help thinking back to her rule that if something doesn't bring you joy then you should declutter it. 

Which leads me to wonder what I should do when life no longer brings me joy? When everything that you use to try and make life more bearable is either taken away or no longer works.

The big things that help, gigs and airshows have been wiped off the face of the earth. My last hope for an airshow this coming weekend, Duxford, has now been cancelled due to the rise in Covid cases because some titheads can't follow the rules.

The little but regular things that help aren't doing it either. I've no interest in listening to music, can't get into reading. Leaving the house is becoming an anxiety minefield. Meeting up with friends is handicapped by the excruciating embarrassment I feel about my weight gain.

The worst of it are the 'shoulds' and shouldn'ts, I should eat better and lose the weight I'm so embarrassed about, I should go out for walks whilst the weather is still nice before Autumn sets in and sends things depressing, I should tidy my room because it looks like a dust covered pig stye. I shouldn't nap all day as its a waste, I shouldn't bother with pretty clothes because they'll only look awful on my fat self. I shouldn't bother with Halloween shopping and decorations as that's bound to cancel or I won't be bothered nearer the time. 

At night before I go to bed I think about all this and just wonder why I'm hanging on. When I sleep all I have are flashbacks and nightmares about being back at school or the multitude of jobs that have gone shit-shaped over the years. I've had to stop my EMDR sessions because the memories and feelings they brought up were too much to deal with. 

Wonder what Marie Kondo would have to suggest about a life with no joy? 

Love Jen

XxxX

Reflecting On A (Not So Happy) Anniversary

(Before we start please note the TRIGGER WARNING for self-harm and suicidal thoughts/actions)

Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of my overdose. At the time I detailed it in this blog. But in short after my mental health had a rapid decline since the start of 2019 I decided that enough was enough. I realised that the game was up when I found myself struggling to enjoy Airbourne, normally the 4 days I live for each year, and I went to bed the Sunday night having written a long letter to my family and friends telling them how much I loved them and insisting that they not blame themselves. 

Although I told myself as I wrote it that it was a 'just in case' letter, a deeper part of me had shifted for the worse. The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back was being let go from my job, not much of a shock since I was barely managing to make it in more than one or two days a week. 

So that was how the overdose happened, part of it was wanting to end it all, part of it was wanting to black out and forget everything, part of it was trying to express the pain that I couldn't put into words that even cutting myself wasn't releasing, part of it was wanting to push it all off myself and let the adults take over and part of it was a final fuck off to the world that had made life so difficult. 

The days following are a blur, I hadn't swallowed enough pills or drunk enough vodka to need the hospital. I remember being chronically unsettled, sleeping badly, a feeling of absolute guilt at having hurt my parents and friends and hardest of all was the feeling of being unsafe. Unsafe from myself, whenever I'd felt unsafe before it was as a result of other people's actions and I could retreat inside myself. When it's you making yourself feel unsafe there's nowhere to retreat, being scared of yourself and what your brain might make you do. 

Do I feel like I've made any progress since that August day? Absolutely not. I don't work, I hardly go out (at least I had plenty of practice for lockdown!), I struggle in social situations and find myself utterly drained from them. I have panic attacks from just getting the bus into town (not ideal when you're walking up the hill trying to listen to your best friend tell you about her day), I struggle with panic attacks that wake me up just after I've drifted off. I cut myself, put it this way, shorts have not been an option for most of the summer although considering the size of my thighs that's probably a blessing to the world at large! 

My world has shrunk to staying in and annoying the rabbit, being bounced on by the dog, cross-stitching, watching YouTube & Netflix, eating and berating myself for the weight I've piled back on whilst feeling physically sick looking at myself, napping, only being able to go places if someone goes with me and when I'm able to leave the house the occasional dog walk. Not exactly healing and healthy. 

I know that the recovery has to come in a large part from me, counselling, my OT (when I'm allocated one) and useless psychiatrists can only do so much. But the drive I used to have to defy the limits of my brain and condition just isn't there any more. Being a hermit is my lot in life. There's still a large part of my brain that berates me for not finishing the job properly, that I'm too weak to give it another, proper try. It argues that I have no chance at a successful future (I'm not going to disagree with it there!) so why postpone the inevitable. 

I try really hard to find positivity and enjoy things, some times it's possible - the week that Mum and I had in Vienna last November (PANDAS! 🐼 🐼), seeing my friends when I feel able, watching crap on YouTube with Helen (it's an art form) or watching (shouting at) the F1 with Chris and Vana. But so often I just feel uninspired and joyless, the things I do like sewing, reading just can't always cut it (no pun intended). Then I'm left feeling frustrated, bored and at the mercy of my thoughts. 

I really hope that maybe by next year's anniversary I'll still be here to mark it. That maybe a summer of delayed gigs and airshows might have lifted things a little. That the blubber I've re-attached to me might have gone (although let's be realistic), that I might have gotten some way to reclaiming the old Jen who was able to tell her brain to fuck off back in its box and go enjoy herself. Is that too much to hope for? 

Love Jen

XxxX

EMDR Diaries - Chapter 1

For those of you who have the, er, pleasure (?) to follow me on social media (Twitter jenraefrances and Instagram jenraefrances very original I know!) you'll have see than I've started a treatment called EMDR (Click here  for more info about EMDR, if that's a bit wordy then a YouTube link is coming up!). 

The aim of EMDR is to help the brain re-process traumatic memories which will, in theory, 
 help stop my extreme reactions to certain stimuli and triggers. My Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) has been worsening since the summer which lead to me attemping suicide back in August (See my blog Cold Hard Facts - ***Trigger warning***). Whilst my bad memories will always be there, this treatment won't magically erase them but it will allow my brain to process the bullying, assault, loss etc correctly and hopefully lessen their impact.

I found a really useful YouTube video that explains it in a less Sci-Fi way. 

This video shows how an EDMR session works -

Before I started the treatment I was warned by my counsellor that the treatment can be tough as I'll be connecting with a lot of memories and emotions that my brain has repressed. I've been warned that I'll feel very unsettled for a number of days after each session There was also the likelihood that I'll have physical symptoms like tingling and twitches as my brain works to re-wire itself. To try and counter-act this my counsellor and I have been working on 'safe places' in my mind that I can access after the sessions to calm me such as airshows and happy memories. I have a long list of bad things to tackle, the usual suspects - bullying, loss etc so this will be a long slog. 

To start me off as gently as possible my counsellor, Helaine, has decided to start with the 'Memory Stick incident' from back in 2014. When you read any of my blogs from the summer of 2014, prior to being signed off in the Autumn, you'll be able to see the state I was left in (my blog Stuck from the time gives an idea, just bear in mind that at the time I was still working on the theory that I had Bi Polar rather than BPD). Now that I'm long gone from that job I can explain more about what went on and what the EMDR will be tackling. 

To cut a long story short whilst working for a local NHS Team I posted a memory stick to a nursing home containing patient information and it was lost in the post. This kicked off a massive incident as of course patient privacy was compromised (something that I never argued against and went out of my way to own up to), during the course of this it was decided to review my recent work and it was found that I had sent an information pack to an incorrect address (I still maintain that I was given the wrong details but that's neither here nor there). After that all of my work was scrutinised and management were constantly digging for mistakes I'd made. When I tried to stand up for myself I was told that I was "playing the mental health card" to avoid getting into trouble. The whole situation lead to my health spiralling out of control, loads of self-harming and my being signed off of work and eventually leaving. 

As we started the session Helaine asked me to bring this time to mind. I then had to watch the light bar that you saw in the video above for a few moments at a time (initially I made the mistake of trying to concentrate too hard on it and not follow the light bar but it turns out that once you've brought the memory to the front of your mind it stays there even when you're concentrating on the bar). The effect was immediate, I started having random tinglings and small pressures across my chest and throat (these are the spots where I normally 'feel stress', some people get knotted stomachs or breathlessness when they're stressed whereas mine sticks 'higher') and twinges in my shoulders.  

After the initial effects of the tinglings and pressures I actually stopped feeling anything for a little while until I suddenly got really tearful when I was struck by how much I'd loved my previous job working in the records library from 2010-2011 (you can read my memories of the time here). One of the things with the EMDR is that sudden insights will appear either during the session or in the days following about the memory you've been working on. Whilst I won't share the 'insights' I gained about my job I lost the memory stick with as they aren't pretty, I did realise that I was an easy target as I'm crap at standing up for myself or pointing out that I was the sole admin dealing with over 2000 cases, I did gain some interesting insights about my 'happy time' in the library; I realised that work was actually my 'safe space' and helped me cope with crap life threw at me at the time (my Grandad passing away, the breakdown of my 6 year relationship among other things) and still carry on smiling. I realised that I was 'mourning' that time so to speak, not just the job itself or that it was a good time in my life for travelling and having fun. But mourning the loss of that safety, positivity and most importantly the friends I left behind when I moved on, colleagues who made me feel welcome from day one and included me and, most importantly, were only ever nice to me. The ironic thing is that the only reason I left was because my hours had been cut to 3 days a week ....

The session ended with 'grounding' me again, accessing my 'happy/safe' space and putting me back into a calm mindset.

In the days following an EMDR session you can be left quite unsettled both mentally and physically (in some cases apparently you can be left twitchy or tingly for a couple of days). Physically I was fine, aside from some shoulder tension, but I've had a lot of work-related bad dreams or general anxiety dreams. The dreams have mostly been around a different job I had prior to the library when I was bullied (another reason I loved the library so much, no-one screamed across the room or down the phone at me!), having to start working there again and seeing the managers who made my life hell. I've also been quite low and tearful feeling as well as a slight stressed feeling bubbling away in the background. 

My next session will be a week Tuesday and we'll continue to work on this memory until my brain has processed it properly and it no longer brings up the emotional response anymore. After that we'll move onto other subjects which I admit to being quite nervous about, if I cried whilst working through this 'not too bad' memory lord knows how I'll be when focusing on losing Stelly or school. I want to try and keep up a blog of my EMDR experiences on the off chance that someone who's curious about the treatment or, like me, is trying it out for the first time will stumble across it in the depths of the interwebs and might find it helpful.

If the EMDR helps even just a bit then it'll be worth it, if I can have just a bit of breathing space then I can start piecing things back together a bit. It's not a cure and it won't remove my BPD, OCD and self-harming tendencies but what it can do is help unblock my brain to give me a better chance at reigning them in a bit.

Love Jen
XxxX

(Not so) Helpful reccomendations

Well for better or worse I'm still here. It's now been 2 months since I took my overdose and nothing has really changed.

I had my appointment with the psychiatric nurse last week with Mum. I have to say the nurse was probably the first really helpful psychiatric professional I have ever met. She really listened (unlike the woman who did my PIP assessment last month) and actually made me feel like my feelings were valid so I didn't feel as stupid as I do normally. It was hard going, giving a history of all the crap that I've dealt with (which just reinforces a lot of the feelings associated with the experiences), seeing Mum so upset broke my heart and then dissolving into tears as I mentioned Stelly dying a couple of years ago.

Having to face up to everything in appointments like that is horrible. Seeing the effect that my illness has on my loved ones and carrying that guilt with me. I know how hard supporting someone you care about with a mental illness is because of Nat, it's wearing worrying about them, worrying that you should be doing more. I try so hard to keep a lid on what I say or do in front of my friends and family for that reason, but sometimes it bursts out of me and I feel guilty for it, no-one wants tears or a long, moany WhatsApp conversation when they have their own lives and problems to deal with. 

The Nurse, Debbie, has given me information about local services. One of which is a 'recovery college' but none of the courses are applicable to me. There's a centre that I went to for a few sessions that have groups that do things like walking, arts or wood work in the countryside (yeah me and a saw probably wouldn't mix) but it's the group element that's the problem. The thought of mixing with people I don't know is tightening my chest up and clenching my stomach just thinking about it. Another potential issue is that the groups run their own therapy sessions which is great but obviously I already see a counsellor who I'm comfortable with and I really don't want to go through everything, especially the sexual assault, with a stranger. Unfortunately it may have to happen because to have any chance of claiming any kind of help from Adult Social Care or DWP I need to show that I'm engaging with NHS services rather than a private counsellor (paid for by Mum and Dad which i feel awful about), apparently it looks like I can afford private treatment and so don't need financial support.... 

Apparently I should also be going out every day and not sleeping during the day 🙄. Whilst I get the thinking behind it whether I sleep in the day or not tends to have no bearing on whether I sleep at night. Even when I'm exhausted and haven't slept during the day it takes me at least 30-40 minutes to get off to sleep and that's on a good night. I also use naps during the day as a coping mechanism, if my brain is worked up and I'm having bad thoughts or my anxiety is exploding sometimes the only thing I can do is get under the covers and try and nap it out. It's the same as the days (well most days of the week let's be honest) when I'm really bad and even going down to Esme is almost impossible. Going out the front gate just isn't going to happen. 

Debbie also said I need to do things I enjoy etc which would be great if I was getting any enjoyment out of anything at the moment. Due to not having a job and scraping a few pennies from Universal Credit I can't afford to do the things I enjoy, visiting friends, taking myself off somewhere for the day, going to gigs (not that I'm even listening to much music at the moment TBH) just aren't an option, admittedly even if I did have the money just the thought of going out, and having to potentially interact with members of the public, is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat!  I've hardly touched my camera as I just haven't had any interest in snapping anything, plus with the weather being so crap there's nothing to photograph. I spend the day doing cross-stitch (not that I can afford fabric so that's limited) and watching rubbish on YouTube/bingeing on ER (thank you All4 for putting those on) or of course napping. I'd love to say I've decided to use the time to do some learning but I just don't have the brain capacity or concentration anymore. Far too many years of Meds frying my brain methinks.

I just feel that all those positive changes I made last year, diet, exercise, even starting this year off with a new job have now just been for nothing. I ended 2018 feeling OK(ish) with myself whereas it's now the tail end of 2019 and I'm fatter again, poor, out of a job, of no help to my family or friends and just wondering exactly what all this is worth? 

Love Jen

XxxX

Oh and my urgent psychiatrist appointment is 24th Jan next year 🤣 

Cold Hard Facts

*TRIGGER WARNING for this blog's content about self-harm and suicide*

I can't think of a snappy way to start this blog off so let's go for the cold, hard facts. Last Tuesday I took an overdose.

My mental health has been getting worse and worse since the early months of the year and most bizarrely with no clear trigger. Slowly the things I enjoy have been slipping away, even the recent airshow - normally my 4 favourite days of the year - went past in a fuzz of misery and despair.

Despair seems like a very dramatic word and it's not an emotion I've really felt before (aside from the comical despairing at the dog/bunnies' behaviours) until now. I really wouldn't reccomend trying it at home kids, it's a truly horrid feeling of your emotions and thoughts becoming so desperate you feel like your head will explode with the pressure.

I think what's made the situation harder than other previous low patches (which now seem far more bearable all of a sudden) is that there really has been no trigger or cause. I was really enjoying work, getting stuck in to studying my Wicca, getting plenty of walking in, I'd just lost 4 stone, Esme is still being her grumpy self and Eos has joined the family with her crazy border collie energy. But something just wasn't and isn't right. Until last week I'd barely made it to work for more than 1/2 days a week. Because I was at home all the time the exercise has gone out the window along with the strictness of my diet - I've put around 3 kilos back on since the start of the year. Add to that money worries from the lack of working and it was becoming the perfect storm.

So last Tuesday I'd had a build up of feeling utterly hopeless and miserable. So much so that I'd actually been up the previous night writing a goodbye note to my loved ones 'just in case' it all became too much. The final nail in the coffin was finding out that there was no more work for me meaning that I was now completely financially stuffed.

I left work choking back tears as I made my way to town for my regular counselling appointment. Although rather than my normal pre-session milkshake this time I went for vodka and ibuprofen. I guess I just wanted to black out, to pretend that this wasn't happening, to shut my head up and send my worries packing just for a minute. I didn't manage to knock too much back, my conditioned politeness saved the day as I didn't want to be late for my counselling appointment. The upshot was that I didn't take enough in to need the hospital, in fact the ibuprofen probably saved me an epic neat-vodka induced hangover.

I know that the few people who do read this will have plenty of opinions and that's OK. Suicide is a divisive subject. There are those who will think I am weak and selfish, again that's OK. People will ask why I didn't reach out and the answer is complex; when you're in an extreme moment of pain it's often at inconvenient times - middle of the night or during the working day. Now I've been the recepient of phone calls from a friend in distress so I know how it works from the other side of the coin and frankly I cannot allow myself to hurl that burden of emotion and darkness onto anyone, particularly people I love and care about.

If I'm asked why I didn't say something sooner about how low I'd gotten then the answer to that is equally complex. When you've had a mental illness most of your life like I have it skews your perspective on everything. The thoughts and feelings are part of your everyday meaning a progression can sneak up on you and by then it's too late. I also don't want to be that person constantly moaning with a glass-half-empty outlook. There's only so many times a well-meaning friend can ask you how you are or what's on your mind before you feel like you're treating them as a free counselling service and abusing their kindness. I also still want people to know I'm there for them with their worries and problems, if I'm constantly taking up the time with my issues people aren't going to open up.

If I'm honest right now I feel no better at all, a lot of the time I wish I'd done the job properly and I wouldn't be in this limbo. At the same time I'm having to come to terms with what happened and what might still happen. And it's scary and horrible. Obviously there's a whole lot of guilt too, I've hurt a lot of people around me because of my actions, my parents have cancelled their holiday they were due to go on this weekend to celebrate Mum's retirement. That's a very hard pill to swallow (no pun intended) and it's no-one's fault but my own.

Normally I like to try and end my blogs on a lighter or humorous note but it's not happening today.

Love Jen
XxxX

Can's and Can'ts

I came across this photo on Pinterest the other day and it's so apt not just for me but for so many others living with hidden illnesses.

I can only speak for my experience and can say quite honestly that my illness controls everything I CAN and (mostly) CAN'T do.

Some days (read most days at the moment) I CAN'T see beyond getting down to the rabbit and the dog and getting them fed and ready for their days (or in Esme's case ready to go back to frowning in the top of the fort.

On far too many days I CAN'T make it to work as the thought of leaving the house and having to interact with people leaves me feeling physically sick. In that case all I CAN do is hide in bed angry and disgusted with myself.

Because my illness leaves me with little I CAN do of note (watching vast amounts of crap YouTube or taking epically long naps aren't a particularly important contribution to society) it's easy to fade into being someone that CAN'T be remembered as ever being fun or lively (not least by myself). When thinking about what someone CAN do, you think about their contributions and things they do for other people and themselves.

When you CAN'T do these things it's easier to take that step back and lose any motivation to pursue what you CAN do. You just sit and occasionally remember what you COULD have done.

Love Jen
XxxX

No Work & No Pay makes Jen really pissed off....

Another week another set of days calling in sick because I'm too depressed to leave my bed and this week I have absolutely outdone myself and managed absolutely no hours at all *round of applause*.

Of course being on the bank means no work no pay makes Jen poor and even more fed up. Jen is unimpressed at running down her gig and social fund to cover her bills and currently wonders how the hell she can cover this sorry state of affairs that her stupid BPD has put her in.

I was thinking back through my long and (not very illustrious) working career and wondering how the hell I went from essentially running a really busy and vital department, with the promise of promotion, to now not even being able to cope with cleaning and delivering food. I mean what the bloody hell went wrong?

Whilst it was my decision to leave the aforementioned job at CMS/Veritek due to the bullying and stress jeopardising the really good place I was in mentally at the time - yes believe it or not I was HAPPY between summer of 2010 (when I left that job) and about Autumn 2011 (when I left the hospital records library to ironically go to full-time work).

Where has my ability to think on my feet, organise important deliveries, schedule stock, generally troubleshoot and even occasionally ignore shrieking managers out to make my life hell gone? How have I regressed so far that I can even cope with washing a floor? Really what the fuck!

So thank you brain for your obvious deterioration in your ability to cope with even the smallest tasks and fuck you for putting me in this situation that I can see no sodding way out of.

Love Jen
XxxX

#TheStruggleIsReal

I'm just going to launch right in here I'm afraid and simply state that life is, quite frankly, hideous at the moment.

My mental health has taken possibly the nose-dive equivalent of a Cristiano Ronaldo dive with a dash of the peregrine falcon about it. It's pretty safe to say I'm by far the worst I've been since I was signed off during the great memory-stick gate of 2014.

I've missed so much work in the last few months I shudder to think how much money I've lost. Whilst I far prefer to be on the staff bank I don't get paid what I don't work. Basically if I was in a 'normal' job I would have begged my GP to sign me off by now and considering the state I'm in I'm pretty sure I'd have that form in my hand right now.

The worst of it is that I feel incredibly guilty for letting the team on the ward I work on down. I've grown to absolutely adore Ward Clerking and really feel horrid when I constantly call in sick and leave them in the lurch. Whilst I'm not directly looking after patients it's the little things I can do to help save the nurses time which I find most rewarding.

But quite frankly I'm in no fit state to be of help to anyone, let alone myself, at this moment in time. I'm getting freaked out at the thought of going to town, making the short walk to the supermarket or anything that involves moving any further down the garden than Esme's hutch.

And to put it bluntly I can't see any way out at the moment. I'm sorry to say this (but when I started this blog way, way back back in 2013 I promised a 'warts n all' depection of living with a mental illness) but yes I have been carrying around thoughts of suicide the last few weeks. I'm not saying this for shock value, or to gain Twitter or Facebook comments (although thank you to those of you who are all so lovely) or to seek some kind of attention. I guess I just want to get across how bad things are at the moment in Jen-world. I can't sleep at night with scary thoughts invading my brain, I almost wish there was a 'safe' way to demonstrate it, to get myself put away for a few weeks to clear my head (I'm not even joking here) but there is no way on earth that I'm prepared to put my family through that, who have been nothing but supportive, far more than I deserve. So much so that this week Mum and Dad have cancelled going away for a few days because they're worried about me, I'm a 31 year old who can't be left alone.

I'm back in counselling each week now, but like any kind of treatment it takes a little bit to titrate. I'm seeing the lady I saw up until spring last year (when I foolishly thought I'd made progress) so at least we can pick-up where we left off.

One of the most irritating aspects of the situation is that I cannot for the life of me pinpoint what's caused this. Yes I've had job uncertainty and upheaval (cheers Med Sec Managers) which is the tip of the iceberg, but this has been building for some time now and I don't know why.

Even my normal go-to lifts aren't helping - listening to music just makes me sad, watching crap on YouTube is getting boring, I can't concentrate on a book or magazine and even my witchy pursuits aren't fulfilling me at the moment despite having really good results with it (see here https://muddlingwitch.blogspot.com/)

I almost wish some physical injury could befall me, that would take me out of action for a few weeks, just a little broken ankle or toe or some such so that I'd have a valid reason to not work or want to leave the house. And yes I know this is utterly stupid.

That's pretty much the shape of it at the moment, please don't be freaking out as I'm sure I'll waddle through it. However if anyone feels like forking out to send me to The Priory or some such all donations will be gratefully received!

Love Jen
XxxX

Working 9-5 (With A Mental Illness)

For this blog I want to specifically write about having a mental health problem in the workplace.

Often when people think about someone with a mental health problem they assume that it prevents them from working or leaving the house. Whilst there are incredibly unfortunate people for whom this is a case there are a lot of us who work whether it’s paid or voluntary.

I’ve written previously about the problems my mental illnesses have caused in my job/s so I won’t bore you by rehashing it and describing the discrimination I suffered.  I instead want to try and describe a day in the workplace life of working with a mental illness.

As is tradition I start the day by snoozing my alarm for up to an hour (it’s not that I have anything against 30STM’s ‘Walk On Water’ I just don’t want to wake up), initially my mood will be determined by any dreams I’ve had. At the moment I’m having a lot of dreams where I become very distressed and actually wake up crying or a myriad of anxiety dreams (the normal school, work, snakes etc) which will immediately put me into a low or anxious mood. Next is a trip down to the garden to feed and clean out Esme, this always causes some anxiety after losing Stelly last year – will Esme still be alive? Will she be ill?. I’m usually bumped back down to reality by her food bowl being lobbed at me …..

Sometimes I find that a shower (being very careful to avoid the bathroom mirror – I don’t need to feel nauseous by my appearance that early in the morning) and a cup of tea make me feel more human, if I am really struggling I tend to lie back down for 10 minutes just to try and settle my head. On a bad day the thought of evening leaving the room to go downstairs to leave makes me feel terrified and close to tears but the thought of having no job is almost as bad so I have to force myself to put a foot in front of the other.

Like most people work can be a roller-coaster. It’s made more difficult because even the tiniest bit of stress will send my anxiety rocketing and panic sets in convincing me that I can’t do the job, any mistakes that I’ve made (no matter how nicely they’re pointed out) send me spiralling into paranoid thoughts that I’ll lose my job and have to re-mortgage Esme’s hutch to afford her food and my gig habit! A lot of that stems from previous jobs where any mistake I made was scrutinised and I was made to feel like I was single-handedly bringing the NHS or Veritek company down (perhaps this is a special talent?).

Another minefield is interpersonal relationships, any employee is expected to be professional and polite to everyone they encounter (unless they’re a consultant obviously). This is a bit of a challenge for me, particularly where my BPD is concerned, on a day where the depressive side rules the last thing I want to do is chat, grit my teeth whilst talking to rude callers or be helpful to people coming to the office with stupid questions. I really have to check myself to make sure I don’t snap/shout/burst into tears or hide under the desk. This in itself feeds my anxiety meaning that a lot of the time I’m also struggling with a tight chest and squirming stomach. Sometimes a depressive fog descends that I can barely see through, much less work through, this is when I’m in danger of making the aforementioned mistakes. Sometimes I’m slow at understanding what I need to do (thanks meds!) and work at a snail’s pace and other days I’m more manic and scatty as hell picking up random tasks & half doing them when the next distraction appears.

I work 4 days a week and people often comment on “how lucky” I am to have Wednesdays off, the reality is that these days are spent asleep for their entirety. This sounds lazy and probably is but the effort of working with my mental illnesses is such that I am completely wiped. The best thing I can compare it to is a marathon in the blistering sunshine – not only are you mentally wiped but you can barely drag yourself along, that’s the level of exhaustion I have to deal with on a daily basis.

I’m really lucky that for the most part I work with really understanding people who know to let me be if I’m quiet and keep me topped up with tea but who are great listeners when I do need to talk. They make me smile and cheer me up on bad days and make me feel like it was worthwhile coming into work and that’s all I can ask for.

Love JenX

xxX

B is for Borderline Personality Disorder

Next up in my Mental Health Week blogs is Borderline Personality Disorder.

BPD is probably the trickiest of my 'conditions' because half the psychiatric world don't believe it exists so explaining something that half the world doesn't accept is a little challenging...

BPD is also known as Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder, a label that I absolutely detest. I find it almost insulting that a complex disorder is described as being 'emotionally unstable' when there is so much more to it than that.

BPD can take a long time to diagnose, it's commonly misdiagnosed as Bipolar or depression and whilst it comes with depressive elements they are part of a big mix of symptoms.

People often generalise BPD as being the result of abuse or traumatic experiences, and whilst being sexually assaulted and bullied both in school and the workplace certainly didn't help, I realise that I've always had certain traits of it. Things that wouldn't phase a 'normal' kid such as a supply teacher for the day would completely freak me out, being put in different groups to work was hell. As an 8 year old you just figure that everyone feels like that, the same suprise that I had as an adult when I discovered that not everyone's mood can go from sky-high or rock bottom in under a second. I'm still having to work hard to 'forgive' myself for the things that I did and felt in my teen years that I can now attribute to BPD but at the time were excruciatingly embrassing oddities.

Living with BPD can be exhausting. It has control of both my anxiety (see Monday's blog) and OCD (coming later this week), it's the reason that my attempts at CBT to combat my OCD failed as it worked its way around my attempts to 'challenge' my thought processes. Waking up each day and having no idea which direction your thoughts and moods will take throughout the course is pretty unsettling. Without exaggeration I can go from pretty chill to manic to terrified to suicidal all in the space of a morning when I'm going through a bad patch.

It makes interactions with others, in the workplace especially, tricky. You want people to see you as a rational, professional person and you can understand their confusion when the bubbly brightly dressed person they met the day before drags herself into work in her baggy black dress surrounded by a moody silence. I feel bad for putting people through this, more so my family and friends. I have a lot of anger that I carry with me, anger at the people who bullied me and assaulted me, anger at those who screamed at me across the office, worst of all the anger at those who stood by and let it happen when they could have stepped in and finally anger at myself for not 'dealing' and allowing the disorder to inform my life this way.

One of the hardest things I have to ask myself is the catchy "is it me or BPD?". It is hard to see where the BPD ends and Jen begins (and vice versa), your personality is unique and saying that it is 'disordered' raises the question do I think/feel this way/do this because it's me or because of my BPD? Is it Jen that cares lots about her family and panics if she doesn't hear from them or is it the clingy element of the BPD?

I could go on into far more depth about my BPD but I did promise mini-blogs!

In the next blog I'll be delving into the mystical world of my OCD.

Love Jen
XxxxX

A Guide To One Of Those Days

A simple guide to one of those days.

This day got itself in gear bright and early with a series of panic attacks from 4am, the early attack gets the worm don’t you know?

Who needs breakfast when you’re choking so hard on anxiety it’s hard to even get a cup of tea down.

What better way to spend mid-morning than hiding in a consultant’s office ‘to scan’ because the slightest word or look will send you into a meltdown of ugly crying.

Try not to wince every time sexual assault/abuse is mentioned on the radio (on the hour every hour!), triggers do feel free to play up with no consideration to how I’m feeling.

Always keep a tight bite on your tongue when you’re quizzed as to what you’re having for lunch as the thought of food turns your already plummeting stomach.

Grumble to yourself that for the last month the radio station has decided to play a Jennifer Lopez song at approximately 11am each day, ponder to yourself how she is still relevant.

Prepare to repeat the above until bedtime when you’ll struggle to get off to or stay asleep without the obligatory OCD, anxiety or remembering upsetting things.

And repeat.

You have a nice day now! 

Love Jen

XxxX

Off Down The Mine!

In a more positive blog, today I want to share a website I came across about living with BPD. I initially was trawling the internet to see if I could find any advice about working when you have BPD since my job is seriously on the line at the moment. This website flashed up, it’s an American site but the advice is applicable to anyone - https://www.verywell.com/borderline-personality-disorder-4014754 .

It covers every kind of subtopic you can think of such as coping with stress, avoiding triggers and to more ‘out there’ topics such as “what is splitting?” (something I seem to suffer from – basically ‘all or nothing thinking’ ) https://www.verywell.com/what-is-splitting-425210 and debating whether Mindfullness is a useful tool (didn’t work for me as my brain doesn’t do calm!).

 I was especially interested in what they had to say about the kind of work/jobs that suited people with BPD and they had a theoretical case study which sounded quite familiar to my experiences.

 The New Job—From a Happy Start to an Angry End

Bruce is always very excited when he begins a new job. He tells everyone he sees how fulfilling the work is, and for the first few weeks, he cannot say enough about how much he likes his boss and co-workers. He talks up the company and shares his dreams about moving into more and more responsible roles.

However, after only a short time, Bruce begins to feel that his boss is "out to get him." He perceives every work request or direction as an unfair criticism. He also becomes increasingly frustrated about working with his co-workers. He complains about what he sees as their lacklustre efforts that no one else seems to notice or care about.

By this time, it's clear to Bruce that his supervisors and co-workers don't like him and are picking on him.

Eventually, Bruce comes to believe that the people at the office are trying to find reasons to fire him, and he reacts in a rage. He yells and swears at his boss while complaining about how unfair the situation is and "always has been." His angry outburst and disrespect toward his boss can only end one way: Bruce is let go to search for another new job. There is further detail here https://www.verywell.com/example-of-bpd-at-work-425151

This is scarily similar to my workplace experiences and does lead me to wonder if I’m actually the problem or at fault for a lot of the bad experiences I’ve had? My difficulty concentrating caused loads of problems at my last job and I’m now unsure if I really was being bullied at CMS/Veritek (although I’m still hedging towards it ).

 I’m really glad I found the site though as it seems that it’ll be a mine of useful information and I intend to dig deep!

 

Love Jen

XxxX

"Oh my ears and whiskers"

It's been 2 weeks now since Stelly's accident. I'm sure anyone who's friends with me on Facebook is sick of hearing about it. I've been advised to "move past it" but it's not happening.

The girls are my children, they are my absolute world. I can't have kids because of my BPD (it can be dangerous for Mum and kid with all the hormones) and having Endometriosis would make conceiving very difficult. I've trained myself to look on small humans (aside from a select view) with dislike and be relieved that I don't have them. If your child had made that horrendous screaming noise you'dve had nightmares every night since, I can guarantee that.

I can't look at her without wanting to cry, I worry about the effect it's having on poor Esme too. They went on the grass on Monday for the first time since the accident, Esme was jumping for joy and binkying all over the place at finally being out. All was well until she started chasing Stelly (she's always done that even though they've been 'done' since 2010) which upset Stell meaning I had to put them away.

The vet said that Stell is likely to always be incontinent so I've been wiping her every morning, which I'm more than happy to do to keep her comfortable. Every teeny thing she does has me paranoid. This morning for example I heard a squeak when I went to catch her to give her the wipes. I initially thought it was a bird and went on with washing her without further incident. Then I heard the noise again shortly after when she and Esme were doing their excited spin. I looked it up on the Internet and a lot of websites and forums classed it in with screaming (trust me it wasn't that). That or it being some kind of happy noise. This description kept popping up - 

"If you hear a rabbit make a shrill squeaking sound, there's a good chance that he's feeling happy about something. ... When rabbits squeak and the sound is a little bit deeper, it often signifies that they feel trapped. Perhaps you're petting your bunny and he wants you to stop so he can get back to playing independently."

I can understand the threatened explanation for when I was about to pick her up to be washed, I'd use some choice language if someone tried to do it to me! But she also made it with Esme, that's what worries me. She can't surely feel threatened by Esme all of a sudden? They're always together.

I know I should chill out and stop obsessing about every teeny thing that she does. I still feel responsible for her hurting herself. I can't have been holding her properly. Normally she's the far more docile rabbit when being held or carried rather than The Right Hon Miss Esme Wigglebum. But she managed to leap out and damage herself.

And no I can't just 'get over' this.

Love Jen
XxxX

Err so now what?

I recently finished my course of free counselling at Brightview in Eastbourne, unfortunately due to huge demand (as they say in Top Gun “the list is long and distinguished”) they can only offer 8 sessions per person as Brightview is a charity and receives no NHS funds. I’ve also recently discharged myself from my Psychiatrist as all he seemed to be able to tell me was keep taking the meds and lose some weight because apparently the lighter you are, the happier you are (what a great message to be sending out!), the plan was to discharge me at my next appointment anyway so I felt the appointment could have been given to someone in genuine need of urgent help.

When I first saw him I was really impressed, he spent ages listening to my symptoms before giving me a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder with OCD. But in the later sessions he hadn’t been as interested, telling me to drink coffee and try not to fall asleep when I complained of my exhaustion (despite the fact that coffee ramps up my anxiety and leaves me headachey and nauseous) and ignored my accounts of the hallucinations I experience at night that disturb my sleep.

The counselling helped to uncover some things that I’d forgotten, or subdued that may have all been small triggers for the state I’m in today or for other problems that I have. For example being groped intimately by one of my classmates in the first couple of weeks of secondary school has probably contributed to my fear of intimacy with people (hence 6 years of singledom!); actually I just realised that today is the 6^th anniversary of me and Adi breaking up – there’s an irony! Losing Nat and blaming myself for not keeping a closer eye on her has led to my constant anxiety about bad things happening to friends and family members. So now that the counselling and psychiatrist input has finished I am once again adrift.

Because Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is quite a difficult condition (well done me for being awkward) to live with and treat it means that treatment options are few and far between. The counselling I was having at Brightview was what’s known as ‘Person Centred Counselling” which basically means letting me rant and rave with the counsellor asking questions to help identify underlying themes and events that might have caused you to feel the way you do.

The recommended treatment for BPD is what’s known as Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT), the NHS Choices website has this to say 

–Dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT)

Dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT) is a type of therapy specifically designed to treat people with BPD.

DBT is based on the idea that two important factors contribute towards BPD:

you are particularly emotionally vulnerable – for example, low levels of stress make you feel extremely anxious

you grew up in an environment where your emotions were dismissed by those around you – for example, a parent may have told you that you had no right to feel sad or you were just "being silly" if you complained of feelings of anxiety or stress

These two factors may cause you to fall into a vicious cycle – you experience intense and upsetting emotions, yet feel guilty and worthless for having these emotions. Because of your upbringing, you think having these emotions makes you a bad person. These thoughts then lead to further upsetting emotions. 

The goal of DBT is to break this cycle by introducing two important concepts:

validation: accepting your emotions are valid, real and acceptable

dialectics: a school of philosophy that says most things in life are rarely "black or white" and that it's important to be open to ideas and opinions that contradict your own

The DBT therapist will use both concepts to try to bring about positive changes in your behaviour.

For example, the therapist could accept (validate) that feelings of intense sadness cause you toself-harm, and that behaving in such a way does not make you a terrible and worthless person.

However, the therapist would then attempt to challenge the assumption that self-harming is the only way to cope with feelings of sadness.

The ultimate goal of DBT is to help you "break free" of seeing the world, your relationships and your life in a very narrow, rigid way that leads you to engage in harmful and self-destructive behaviour.

DBT usually involves weekly individual and group sessions, and you'll be given an out-of-hours contact number to call if your symptoms get worse.

DBT is based on teamwork. You'll be expected to work with your therapist and the other people in your group sessions. In turn, the therapists work together as a team.

DBT has proved particularly effective in treating women with BPD who have a history of self-harming and suicidal behaviour. It's been recommended by the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) as the first treatment for these women to try.

Accessing DBT is another challenge altogether. DBT is a very specific treatment so practitioners under the NHS are very few and far between. The only real place to find it is through private therapists and unfortunately I don’t think the rabbits would appreciate having their hutch remortgaged! A quick search for general counselling and therapy in the Eastbourne area throws up a massive blank. All the therapists that we have are private and charge £40 for 50 minutes! There is a free counselling service in Hastings but again that only offers 5 sessions, I believe I need ongoing support as it’s day to day things that cause me problems rather than just things in my past.

Case in point being a nasty incident with Estelle on Sunday where she jumped out of my arms as I was putting her in the hutch and hurt her leg, screaming in pain (the most awful sound I have ever heard). I had a full on meltdown which I’m still suffering with 3 days later. Thankfully Stelly only seems to have bruised herself and is starting to move around again, my only real concern now is her dirty bottom from where she has had an upset stomach and been peeing where she sits (a stress reaction I’m guessing).

So at the moment treatment-wise I’ve pretty much been cast adrift to fend for myself with my ups and downs, crazy ideas and brain flips. Here’s hoping that by some miracle the NHS suddenly decides to fund some help in the local area and I can get on the list.

Love Jen

XxxX

Ps Only I could shoehorn in a Top Gun quote to a blog about my mental health!

Interrogated By A Cartoon Caterpillar

When I first started this blog just under three years ago I wanted to show that you can still live a life with a mental illness. I wanted to write about my achievements, personal and creative, basically sticking two fingers up at the notion that my head could stop me having fun.

 

Times and diagnoses have changed, I've gone from being told I have mild depression and anxiety, to OCD, to Bipolar to Borderline Personality Disorder. I'm playing diagnosis bingo, next stop must surely be psycopath? I'm still trying my best to poke fun at my situation but it's getting harder and harder to laugh. The blog, when I feel inspired enough to write or actually have something new to say, has completely changed to what I never intended it to be, a long drawn-out woe is me about being mentally ill. I wanted to write about living when actually all I'm really doing is existing with a mental illness.

 

To be honest I really don't know if this blog is worth keeping, sorry to the 1 or 2 readers I have, it's pretty fraudulant now. Who wants to read about me slowly losing my grip on sanity or using my old cutting crutch? Does anyone actually need to know that it takes all my energy to actually get out of bed each day, knowing that I really don't want to be around people? That my napping at every possible oppourtunity isn't laziness but one of my few chances at shutting off the world, even that doesn't shut off the constant grinding voice inside telling me that I'm a curse on the people I love. I try my hardest to focus on sorting things out for other people, I don't have a chance because every time I start to achieve something, be it in work or for myself it gets sabotaged by my brain. So I work my hardest to help other people achieve their goals ready to back off when I'm no longer needed, no-one needs an inconvenience.  Unless of course there is an opening somewhere for a professional village idiot? I am very gifted at falling over (whilst sober) and babbling incoherently. Answers on a postcard or in the comments below!

 

In a bizarre way being like this is just normal now, it's like a comfort but obviously not. It feels almost like part of my identity now, I don't know what's Jen and what's BPD. If it was 'cured' would there be anything of the original 'me' before I became ill left? Or have I actually always been skewed and we just didn't know, so am I actually just illness and not Jen at all? I feel like I'm going round and round like Alice talking to Absolom and he keeps asking "Whooo are yoooou?" - no wonder Alice In Wonderland is my favourite book!

 

I research everything I can about BPD from blogs to deeply detailed and boring medical reports trying to find a glimmer of hope that something can be done. I can tell you in detail about all the different therapies that can be given and where to find them, everywhere except this neck of the woods apparently - the nearest specialist place is in Burgess Hill (unless I have megabucks to check myself into The Priory who offer an intensive treatment programme - how rock n roll!). Knowing that this is basically it really doesn't raise the spirits much as you can imagine. No wonder I have such a chocolate addiction! And yes as people frequently tell me, I'm sure I would be so much happier if I excercised, cut out the crap food and lost weight. But what's the point? If I'm stuck with this prognosis just let me wallow in Areo and Twirl Bites wish a dash of KitKat Chunky! At least my taste buds will be cheerful!

 

I guess the last thing to research is whether my mental illness qualifies me for some kind of hat allowance ........

 

 

Love Jen

 

XxxX