Monthly Archives: March 2015
One of the biggest and most challenging aspects of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is often ‘The Chameleon Effect’ – or ‘mirroring’. This is the constant, unconscious change in the person’s ‘self’, as they struggle to fit in with their environment, or the people around them. It is, essentially, a fluctuating identity. It is the manifestation of a basic inability or difficulty in establishing a stable sense of self.
The presence of The Chameleon is often one of the main obstacles to effective initial treatment and diagnosis of BPD, as it effects the interaction between patient and doctor, and can mask the disorder itself. It also effects and masks the way in which BPD intersects with other disorders that may have developed in connection with it – creating a complex web of behaviours that can be hard to untangle. The irony is that, without diagnosis and treatment, most are unaware of…
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My name is suicide. You all know me.
I’m a coward in many ways.
I am selfish. I take and take.
I hide behind smiles.
I hide behind tears.
But you all know me.
My name is suicide.
I don’t discriminate.
I’ll take your sister, your brother, your mom or dad.
I’ll take black or white, male or female, gay or straight.
I don’t care about religion or race, gender or sex.
I don’t care how much money you have, how many friends you have.
I don’t care if you have kids or if you live alone.
I tell you things will be better.
That no one will miss you.
I’ll be your friend. You can tell me your secrets.
My name is suicide.
I’ll embrace your differences.
I’ll tell you what you want to hear.
I’ll take you from this world with me.
Together forever we’ll always be.
My name is suicide.
I hide in your school.
I hide in your home.
I hide in your neighborhood or mall.
I take sisters from brothers, parents from children, and family from each other.
I take veterans and civilians.
I am selfish.
I take and take and don’t give back.
I’m always hungry, always hiding, and right there in the back of your mind.
My name is suicide.
And I am selfish.
Now, before you all start saying that this is not fair, I am not talking about victims of suicide. I’m talking as though suicide is a person who doesn’t care who you are, how much money you have, or what religion you are. Suicide is very prevalent. It’s out there. And suicide takes people from us before we even know what happened. Suicide needs to be talked about, the stigma needs to end. It should be a normal conversation to make sure that we all are safe. And if we aren’t safe, the conversation needs to turn to “how can I help?” People commit suicide everyday. And I think it’s time to talk about it.
I think I’ve talked about it before… But we’re going to talk about it again.
There is one thing that keeps the panic at bay, without having to take medication. It’s actually really nice.
When I’m with someone I trust, or someone that I know cares for me, and I feel the panic attack coming on, I have them touch me. It sounds funny. But, having someone hug me, deeply, or squeeze my hand — hard enough to feel my pulse, but not hard enough to hurt; it grounds me. It feels like it’s easing the building pressure in my chest.
When a person hugs you, the brain releases oxytocin. It’s produced in the hypothalamus and released by the pituitary gland. It’s often dubbed the “love hormone”. It promotes relaxation as well as other things.
Hugging actually has several health benefits. It lowers blood pressure. Hugging can also increase serotonin. Hugs can increase your immune system and relax your muscles.
It’s like a skittish dog in a storm. They make thunder jackets for dogs. It applies pressure all over and produces a calming effect. Well, the same can be applied to anxiety. When I feel an attack coming, a deep hug is calming. It slows my heart rate, relaxes the muscles that were tensing up, and reminds me to breathe.
Sometimes, when I feel like I’m slipping away, like the anxiety is flooding my mind and I feel…floaty? I get someone to squeeze my hand. The pressure on my hand reconnects me to me. It makes me focus on the hold on my hand. If you squeeze hard enough to feel your pulse in your hand, it gives you something to focus on. Feel the pulse and listen. Sometimes I even count the beats while I do some breathing exercises.
I know it’s a simple trick, but I’ve been trying to spread the word. A lady that I work with has been having panic attacks, and I simply took her hand and squeezed. Not too hard of course, but hard enough that she could feel that I was there with her. It helped her calm down.
Touch is powerful. Whether it’s a hug or someone simply holding your hand, it is amazing what a simple thing can do.
If you’ve ever taken the time, there’s a song by A Day To Remember called “End of Me”.
It’s a beautiful song, loud, like I like it. It has lyrics that I can relate to on so many levels. One of the lyrics that sticks with me:
“I get it, no, I get it. Can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.”
Why does that mean so much to me? Because I’ve been there. I live there.
There are people out there that I want nothing more than to help. I’ve been a helper for years. I grew up wanting to help others, it’s what I do, it’s what I live for. I grew up helping Donna with her demons, I became a CNA to help the elderly. I’ve been in customer service because I like helping people.
But the thing that always gets me, people, some people, they just don’t want to be helped. That’s so frustrating to me. I want nothing more than to help people and those people who don’t want me to help them irritate me. I want to help them. I want to be there for them.
Sometimes I think that I have a savior’s complex. Where when someone is going through hell I want to save them.