I hate you. I hate this. I want to die, I'm going to kill myself and I hope you're the one to find my body. - I said these very words once, not that long ago.
I grew up with the mantra, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.' but as I've gotten older, and thrown many words around myself... I realise just how untrue that saying is, especially when it comes to those around me that I love.
So it's true, once I was diagnosed, things got normal in my life for a while. My husband and I began to attend marriage counselling in the midst of all of this and life went on as though nothing had happened.
And through it all, I have treated people - specifically my husband like crap. Until I received the second diagnosis in November of Borderline Personality Disorder, nothing made sense. I never understood how I could love my husband with every ounce of my being, and yet treat him so horribly. Now, after decades together it's all alot more clear. I'm not perfect yet, but with the correct diagnosis and a ton of actual treatment - the right meds combined with therapy - I'm learning. He's learning. We are both doing far better and understanding far more about why I am the way that I am. It isn't easy, change never is. But we're slowly coming along. I still get angry and feel myself getting out of control - becoming emotionally charged and feeling like at any moment, emotional me might take over, become a monster. And it might happen again. But I also now have tools to use, weapons to combat myself and become more self aware when it's happening.
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I grew up with the mantra, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.' but as I've gotten older, and thrown many words around myself... I realise just how untrue that saying is, especially when it comes to those around me that I love.
My husband - we met when we were only fifteen and began dating. When he was seventeen and I was sixteen, we had our first child, a baby boy. Less than two years later we had our second son, and soon after that we were getting married. Having two more children in the years that followed led our family into a chaotic period.
Growing up, I had always been the more emotionally sensitive child. I cried easier than anyone else in my family, got angry - with my parents, my sister and my friends which was often released in outbursts. As a teenager I began to self harm - first by banging my head against the wall, hitting or pinching myself and eventually leading into cutting. But it wasn't all the time and I was able to hide it well, not letting anyone find out about it, especially since a lot of the time, I was perfectly normal.
Once my husband and I settled into the daily rush of our lives, things started to show through. My husband and I fought. I can't really say whether it was more or less than other couples, but it was quite a bit. At the time I had almost no knowledge of mental health whatsoever, and didn't know that I would one day in the future be diagnosed myself. As a result, triggers were common and looking back now, I can identify many of the early warning signs that existed but neither of us could recognise at the time.
Over time, our fights became worse. Something would set me off and I would almost disappear completely, become a totally different person. Unfortunately this is common in someone with Borderline Personality Disorder - emotional dysfunction. Things become black or white. Yes or no. Good or bad. Love or hate.
And while, for the most part, I was fairly normal to the outside world, at home things only got worse. The smallest thing could trigger me and I would get mean. My husband, who isn't perfect but pretty darn close most of the time, put up with a lot from me. If it was a bad day, I would become borderline verbally abusive, slinging hatred and insults faster than I could think them. And then, eventually when I calmed down, oftentimes I didn't even remember the horrible, vicious things I would say or my brain would justify them, make my words seem perfectly logical.
As a result, I damaged a lot of relationships - many friendships were completely destroyed by my black and white thinking, my fear and anger and silent frustrations at things that I could see in the relationship but they couldn't. It wasn't only friendships that I damaged though, it was also family relationships - my mother, my father, my sister, my grandparents - there were throughout my life times when I simply swore that they hated me, or were wronging me, and I pushed them away, refusing to let them be close to me for fear of being rejected.
Most of all though, I damaged my marriage. Neither my husband or I could understand what was going on, why I would get so angry and lash out at him. We kept fighting. I would get simply vicious.
And then one day, my husband told me he had had enough. He left. It wasn't amid a fight, but following a blowout that I had thought at the time we were recovered from. He moved out that day, went to stay with a friend, and I was angry. As far as I was concerned, I had done nothing wrong.
During his time away, a lot happened. But eventually, through a series of events we came home. We decided to keep trying to work things out. Looking back, although I had always shown signs, it was through all of this that I really see my illness taking a dive, things would be up and I would be fine; happy, alive, energetic. And then I would get down, depressed and angry. I became unpredictable and several months later I hit a low... or rather a high. My husband and I were still fighting quite regularly, and during this particular time, I stopped sleeping. I was on a high and for the first little while I was okay. But then the lack of sleep hit. I became angry and cold, and vicious again. I left home, several times in the night. I would walk the streets of our small town and return home where I would be up and down from bed, sleeping an hour here or an hour there. This went on for days, which turned into weeks. Occasionally I would crash, sleep for 3 or 4 hours and then I would be up again.
One night, my husband and I fought hard. I was exhausted and running on empty and I was flinging every insult and bad decison he had made into his face. I hated him and everything about my life. I left the house and began walking. I walked through our subdivision in pajama pants, tank top, a jacket and boots. No socks, no warm shirt - in the middle of January. My husband called our friend who also happened to be the Pastor at our church. Not only was I angry, I was threatening suicide and had even written him a letter. When the Pastor arrived, I was just returning home and I turned on him. I don't recall what exactly I said but I know that I was nasty towards him before I ran off again. That night ended up with me in the hospital overnight for my first Psych evaluation. By the time I was able to see the crisis worker the next morning, I was perfectly calm and able to talk my way out of the hospital.
A few months later, the same thing happened again. Only this time I was desperate for sleep and began using sleeping pills, while at the same time I regularly threatened to hurt myself. This time I was completely out of control. One day I parked my car in our church parking lot and laid the chair back to try and sleep. 35 sleeping pills later, and being found wandering around by the police and I was once again taken to the hospital. This time it was a 3 day stay and anti-depressants.
But unfortunately it took visits with my family doctor, and follups with the Psychiatrist before I was finally given my first accurate diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. Pills. Medications. Follow up with my family doctor every few months and that was all. They expected me to be fine, to stay on the pills and continue on with my life with almost no information and no follow up care from Psychiatry once I was diagnosed.
The problem with that is that I have level times. I have periods where I feel perfectly normal and am highly functional in my life.
So it's true, once I was diagnosed, things got normal in my life for a while. My husband and I began to attend marriage counselling in the midst of all of this and life went on as though nothing had happened.
And then I noticed that I still raged despite the meds and eventually the side effects became unbearable in comparison to what I felt the meds were doing. So I went off the meds, I kept busy. I became physically active, worked alot and mostly kept things at bay. But the angry rages kept coming. Not as severe, but always there, just bubbling under the surface. And then our lives changed.
It was a simple move, but it was the event that catapulted me back into the thoughts, the rages which led to the waterfall.
And through it all, I have treated people - specifically my husband like crap. Until I received the second diagnosis in November of Borderline Personality Disorder, nothing made sense. I never understood how I could love my husband with every ounce of my being, and yet treat him so horribly. Now, after decades together it's all alot more clear. I'm not perfect yet, but with the correct diagnosis and a ton of actual treatment - the right meds combined with therapy - I'm learning. He's learning. We are both doing far better and understanding far more about why I am the way that I am. It isn't easy, change never is. But we're slowly coming along. I still get angry and feel myself getting out of control - becoming emotionally charged and feeling like at any moment, emotional me might take over, become a monster. And it might happen again. But I also now have tools to use, weapons to combat myself and become more self aware when it's happening.
We've identified many of my triggers and several early warning signs that something isn't quite right, and strategies to keep me level. Right now it's working. But I owe my husband a heck of alot. He has loved me through it all. Despite his frustration with me, despite the vicious person I can become, he has been my rock. And he's not the only one. I still have family and friends who have stuck through me despite the way I have treated them and I will never be able to express my gratitude and how lucky I am to have them all in my life.
For years I thought I was simply just a bitch, incapable of maintaining friendships or any relationships. Now I know that it isn't all true and I am fighting to change my behaviour, to not let my mental health conditions dictate my life any longer. I don't just want to be a better person... I want to be a better daughter, sister, friend... and most of all wife.
