The way we live today, in this crazy, busy world with crazy schedules it’s hard to find time for yourself.
Sometimes I just need some time. Time to relax and heal. Time to process. Time to think and breathe. Time to rest and really rest. With my schedule I can’t always get that.
Today was an instance of overload. I went to my gyno and for news that I didn’t want to hear, it made me angry. Things aren’t happening how I want them to. I thought I would be pregnant by now. And yet there is still no progress there. There’s too many factors that he wants to consider first, things that he wants to work on first before we really start pushing hormones. I understand, logically – the logical side of me can see he’s being a good doctor. But the raw emotional side of me says that I hate him and he’s wasting my time.
I needed time to process.
Then I had an anxiety attack, different from a panic attack.
I needed time to get over that.
I called into work. They got mad. I felt bad. But I needed time. And then I needed time to get over then getting made at me.
I fell asleep and woke up in a panic attack. Shaking, heart racing, I felt like I was dying. I felt suicidal. The voices in my head saying I deserved to die.
Marcus talked me through everything. He was calming and helped me take my medicine to calm the voices in my head. We’ve been resting since then.
I just need time to rest and maybe I’ll be better tomorrow, if not, I just need more time.
Today we celebrated our second wedding anniversary.
It’s been a crazy two years of marriage. I didn’t think it would be like this.
We met in college. A little college, that is growing in students now, in Stephenville. It was 2010. And I liked him, but I was with someone else at the time. Had I known what waited for me there, I would have chosen him then and there. But life, life has other plans. We went our separate ways and lost touch for a long time.
It wasn’t until I started this blog and the Facebook page that we reconnected. He found my page and liked it. Eventually he messaged me and we started talking again.
Our first date was on July 18, 2014. We went to San Antonio to watch DCI at the alamodome. I remember asking “what are we?”
After that, we were together long distance. We made plans to move in together and it happened.
It was rough the first few months, I’ll admit. We were learning to live together, both of us independent and set in our ways.
He had never seen the ugly side of my disorder, very few people did. Sometimes it came out, and he was there, always there for me.
We decided that, if we could put up with each other and our differences and quirks we wanted to get married. We were in love. We were close to each other, there for each other.
We got married on September 19, 2015. It was a beautiful little ceremony. My veil got stuck in the door as I came in. He surprised me with wearing a tux! He was so handsome. I was so nervous! He talked to me the whole ceremony to make sure I didn’t freak out, because I was on the verge of a panic attack. He was sick with pneumonia, but he was able to enjoy our wedding. It was beautiful.
Since then, things have been chaotic. He’s been sick with something that doctors aren’t sure what it is. The neurologist just said “we’re going to call it Upper Motor Neuron Disease, but I don’t think that’s what it is.” We’ve been in and out of hospitals trying to treat it, seeing doctors from all over the place trying to get a proper diagnosis.
My mental health hasn’t always been that great. I will cycle from being ok and stable to being suicidal with a plan in just a few minutes time. And when I go that low it’s hard for me to come out, but he’s always there for me. I’m more stable now. I still cycle, but I feel better. And he’s still there for me.
I had the opportunity to be there for him recently. It got so bad that we had to go inpatient. But he’s better now.
The point is, two years ago, I has no idea life would throw so many challenges our way. But because of those challenges, we are closer than ever. I’ve never been this close to anyone in my life, other than my mom. I can tell him anything and everything. And when we get upset with each other we talk about it instead of letting it fester. He’s my best friend and my soul mate. I don’t want anyone else but him. If I had the chance to choose him again, I would do it in a heartbeat.
He’s my favorite person and the one I want to spend all my time with, and it hard to be apart (yes, I know my BPD is showing.)
Two years and we have 3 dogs and 1 cat, we have a home that we are restoring, we have a plan for what to do with that home. We have a lot going on but we’re together and stronger than ever.
I love you baby. Happy 2 years with many more to come!
When I visited the doctor the other day, I noticed on her billing page that she marked borderline personality disorder.
Not that it bothers me or anything, I’ve had the diagnosis for a while, but when we last spoke she took the BPD off. She said that I wasn’t showing signs of it anymore. She took it off.
People with BPD, or so I’ve read, can lose the diagnosis within two years of being diagnosed. They use therapy and medications for the symptoms, but you can get better. Again, at least that’s what I have read recently.
I think over time, my symptoms have gotten better. I no longer feel like people are abandoning me or that people are leaving me. I’m no longer trying to push people away. I feel better in that sense. And I’ve been so focused on my bipolar disorder and PTSD that I’ve forgotten about the borderline.
I meant to ask her if I’m still borderline or if she is rediagnosing me. But I forgot. I guess that’s a question for next time.
It’s been two months since I’ve seen my doctor. I didn’t think it was that bad until I got in there this morning and started talking, then I realized that a lot has happened in the last two months.
I’m on my second job since the hospital, I left due to my hours being unsteady, but I’m supposed to be prn. The first job I got after, was an hour away from my home, starting at 6 am. Meaning I had to leave before 5 to get there on time to work twelve hours to drive an hour home. So this new one that I started, I’m working the night shift. And I haven’t worked night shift in four years. To he honest, I like it. It’s just taking some time to adjust. Like today, I haven’t slept but an hour, maybe two. But I’m feeling ok.
I’m having intrusive thoughts about my legal mother and fears of people breaking into my home and raping me. Like this morning, I couldn’t differentiate the dogs scratching on the door, I thought someone was trying to break in. And then the cat scared me and sent me over the edge. All I could see were two men coming to take me away with me screaming and Marcus being asleep. So I woke him up and we talked, we played “real or not real” until I felt better. And then we left for the appointment.
We got there and she asked how I was doing. I told her that I was better than I had been. I’ve been up and down. I’ve been anxious. I’ve been spending a lot of money. Which, then she had to ask how much I spent, i said like $200. Marcus said it was more than that. And she asked if we were able to pay our bills, to which I had to say no.
We talked about Marcus going into the hospital and how traumatizing that was for me. And she said she wasn’t following me. “Didn’t you want him to get help?” Of course I did. I’m the one who took him to the er, but I wanted to take him to the facility. And I don’t like being alone, he’s part of my routine, he’s my rock. I need him. I told her that they took him away from me and it felt like he died. She didn’t understand why I was so upset.
We talked about donna and the nightmares that she’s in. The intrusive thoughts about her.
We talked about my anxiety which is at a higher level than it should be. Increasing panic attacks.
We’re testing my blood for my thyroid and prolactin, and my annual labs.
So we’re increasing my Zoloft. She wants me to see a counselor. Im not sure how I feel about seeing a counselor.
And that’s the latest.