Nights Like Tonight (A Poem)

Nights like tonight were
When I needed you the most:
Listening to me cry,
Telling me I'd make it,
Showing me you cared.

I always knew you'd be there
In the back of my mind.
But I let the thoughts take over,
The darkness that consumes.
It told me that you'd leave...
And then you really did.

Maybe nights like tonight were
The reason you left:
Too many questions,
Too many fights,
Too many dances with death.

I thought you'd always be there,
Isn't that what you said?
But I let my fear consume me,
I let the turmoil push you away.
I thought you'd never leave me...
Until you were really gone.

Nights like tonight are the hardest
Without you by my side:
Too many feelings,
So much pain,
Not even the knife will do.

You always thought I'd be here,
You always saw right through...
But now you're gone,
You don't even care,
No matter what I'll love you,
Even when I'm dead and gone.

What My In-Laws Don't Seem to Understand About My Borderline Personality Disorder

My husband came home from work yesterday looking completely defeated. The dinner I made in the crock pot was a complete flop, so as we ate jalapeno poppers at the table while our kids played in another room I asked about his lunch date with his mother. "There's no such thing as a free lunch..."

Turns out my mother-in-law had two motives for lunch: the first was to try to convince my husband to take some steps towards being "better prepared" to dealing with the kids and also to suggest things about my instability, the second was to give him a list of family addresses and birthdays because he needs to stop being petty and actually care about his family apparently. He was obviously not happy about it and said he "shut Mom down" a few times in regards to me. This isn't the first time this has happened lately with my husband's family and it's really starting to cause me to think that everyone would be better off if my husband and I were not together. I know, though, that thought isn't really the case...but that also means that there's some hurt that I need to express regarding how I feel my in-laws see me now. Here's a list of how I feel my in-laws see me as a woman with Borderline Personality Disorder and why these are not fair or correct to assume:

1) I am not a threat to my children or an unfit parent because I'm Borderline.
     There have been comments made about how maybe we need to consider having the girls stay with grandparents or my husband and the girls go stay with his mom while I "work through shit." There have also been comments about how the instability and how my behaviors may put the kids in unsafe situations. Here's the thing, though: most of my hatred is on myself, not my kids. I don't often give myself compliments, but I am a damn good parent. I make sure my children feel loved, safe, and happy. When they have meltdowns or get angry, we try to talk and work through them. I've actually started doing some mindfulness and grounding techniques with my oldest child who also has strong emotions. I work, I take care of the house, I give as much as I can to my kids. Being Borderline doesn't mean I'm evil or going to hurt; I actually think that being Borderline makes me a more passionate and compassionate parent.

2) My diagnosis doesn't mean I'm going to spend the rest of my life in and out of psychiatric hospitals.
     I've had three inpatient stays since September for suicide plans/extreme self harm. Most of this has been because of medication as we try to find the right cocktail and battle insurance to pay for them. My husband mentioned that his mother implied that this would probably be a lifelong issue, which he said he defended me and said it's just temporary until I get into Dialectical Behavior Therapy (I started two weeks ago). I am not saying I will never need to go back to the hospital, but I don't think I will need to continue to go so frequently with urgency for my safety.

3) I don't avoid you because I hate you, I do it because I hate being hurt.
     I'm the worst at calling people or even sending email updates. I have a few select people I talk to on a regular basis and that's it. I fail, I know this...but it's not that I intentionally avoid people because I want to be alone. In fact, I had always hoped to have a better relationship with my husband's two sisters because I've always wanted a sister.
      I got hurt several times pretty early on in my relationship with my husband about things his sisters said or did, so I stopped trying. He's not close with them either, so I felt it was the norm for his family to perhaps be standoffish and judgemental. Then, my husband's parents, who I always felt were kind to me and liked me, have started acting very strange since my miscarriage. I find myself constantly worrying about what his family will say or do now, so to try to avoid hating myself even more, I just don't try to talk to them...which means also not putting the effort into things like mailing birthday cards. My husband was told he needs to try harder to be involved in his family, but I don't think they realize that it's mostly been me trying to put that effort. Now that I feel like they think I'm a monster, I don't want to put the effort in...it's too hurtful to care about people and have them not care back.

4) Just because I'm Borderline doesn't mean my husband is the victim or flawless.
     There have been several messages and emails that have gone around among my in-laws (often with me included) that talk about "what he's going through" and "how hard this must be for you." It may not be the intent to make me feel like the problem here, but it definitely comes across that way. He gets pampered and cared for while I get passive agressive cards and texts about how I need to "suck it up" or "put on your big girl panties." My husband is a wonderful man, but he's also got his own share of mental illness (he's Bipolar 2), so I don't feel that's fair to put all the blame on me. It takes two to tango and our marriage counselor reminds us constantly that we are one unit, in this together.

5) Empathy is not listing all of your issues and saying that you "understand" me because of them.
     One of my husband's sisters always has this way of making every situation turn into how horrible her life is. I mention being tired, she points out she has diagnosed insomnia. I share my diagnosis of Borderline and that I'm starting DBT and she suddenly shares that she had an eating disorder and a history of sexual abuse and she's done more than one type of behavior therapy.
      I've always been bothered by this and always felt incredibly horrible for complaining after the fact when she shoves how lucky I am in my face. I recently started reading "I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't)" by Brené Brown and my feelings are starting to make lots of sense. Trying to be sympathetic and actually feeling empathy are two completely different things; one-upping people actually makes their shame increase and does the opposite than the intent. Real empathy involves much more, including being willing to admit you don't know exactly how the person feels and just taking time to listen.

6) I didn't just wake up one day suddenly Borderline: you've just been spared from my extreme emotions and impulsive word vomit because I was too afraid to open up to you.
     
Sometimes I get so angry, so hurt that I want to throw things, break myself, and scream. Last night was one of those nights, but it's over and I'm trying to let go. There's no point in staying miserable when I can do so many other things. Writing is one way I process and understand myself better. Maybe with time I can patch things up with my in-laws, but for now my husband has agreed to be a hermit with me and we will just focus our attention on better things, like our daughters. Being Borderline doesn't make me a monster, it makes me exactly who I am and how I am meant to be. I'm doing the best I can, and will continue to try to do better.

Why Adolescent Psychiatric Treatment Wasn't Beneficial to Me

I recently started seeing a new therapist. Our first session was mostly just a "get to know each other" deal, but at one point while I was talking about previous treatments, she stopped me and said, "What was that like? Receiving treatment as a high school student...that must have been an experience. Do you think it was beneficial?" It's funny, I'd never been asked such a question before, so I had to stop and really dig deep to think about it.

I started being treated for "clinical adolescent depression" in early high school. My parents had spent over a year writing off my moods and behaviors as "hormones" and I had already mastered the art of seeming normal and okay even when I wasn't. I didn't have many friends, but I did have at least one plus I made straight A's and was involved in band, student council, and liked to volunteer...I wasn't a "depressed kid." Finally, though, I snapped and ended up being suspended from school for "making a threat" and had fresh cuts on my arms, so into treatment I went.

Truth be told, I don't think I really benefitted from any of my treatment while in high school. There were formalities to deal with because of the reasoning why my parents finally took me for treatment. There was heavy resistance on my part. There was the lack of knowledge on my parents' end both regarding what outpatient psychiatric treatment should look like and also why I even needed treatment. Then, and probably most importantly, there was the issue that I really didn't understand the extent of my issues and the real capabilities of providers.

Even though I am only 30, it's hard for me to even remember a lot about my treatment during my youth. I remember my mom screaming at me as we cycled through yet another therapist because I was "stubborn, defiant, and uncooperative." (We went through 4 before finally finding one I agreed to talk through things...) I remember driving almost an hour to see the psychiatrist someone had strongly recommended to my mom for "cases like mine." I remember hating how his office smelled, how formal it was, and how all he ever did was say, "Hello again, Meeegan. Your medicine still working? Okay, we keep things all the same.

What I learned through these 3 years of treatment was this: you can only get success from treatment if you are actively trying to do so...and I am not sure that I was. I didn't know if my medicine was working because I didn't ask what that would feel like, I just sat in the psychiatrist's office frozen with my skin screaming at me to get the hell out ASAP. I was very careful to avoid any landmines in my psychotherapy by planning my steps in advance. I learned how to feed people like mobile crisis the answers they wanted to hear to let you walk free feeling that you were okay. Most of all, I took all the realities of my illnesses and hid them deep inside myself, hoping if they were hidden well enough then I could be free and nobody would really know the difference.

I'm now 30, and due to a very traumatic 2017, I find myself back in very intense treatments. This time, though, I think I'm going to play my cards a lot differently. My adolescent treatment didn't work, it wasn't beneficial to me because I fought against it tooth and nail. This time, though, I'm willing and cooperative. I'm asking more questions, doing my own research, writing and tracking lots. I'm accepting my diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder and instead of looking at it was a death sentence, I'm embracing it as a way to really understand myself. I'm starting DBT, I'm taking medications, I've even willingly admitted myself for inpatient psychiatric care when needed. The best advice I can give now that I'm getting this second chance is this: you really do get out what you put in when it comes to treatment. Don't be scared, don't fight the system because you don't like what you are being told. Let the process help you, trust the journey...it's all for you.

Watching S14, Ep9 of Grey's Anatomy

The most recent episode of "Grey's Anatomy," titled "1-800-799-7233," focused on the return of Jo's estranged husband. There have been hints and brief discussions on previous episodes that this man was abusive, but never had the show brought the extent of why Jo ran and changed her name to light...never had the show focused on domestic violence with such intensity. As a die hard Grey's fan, survivor of an abusive relationship, and someone who struggles with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder, the episode was both amazing and incredibly difficult to watch all at the same time. Here's a list of what made the episode both amazing but also still has me shaking:

1) The very convincing acting and writing for Dr. Paul Stadler (Matthew Morrison):

          You could feel the intelligent, convincing, manipulative man that Dr. Paul Stadler was just by looking at him. Everytime he spoke to Jo, and even when he talked to others at the hospital, I found myself reliving moments of a past that I've tried so hard to burn from my memory. I found myself questioning his motives with every move he made during the episode. There was so much insight you could gain if you knew how to read his body language, his expressive face, his eyes. I found myself wanting to both scream at him and hide from him all at the same time. I could see so much of my ex in everything Stadler said or did, and even though my ex has been removed from my life for over 10 years, I'm scared to go out today for fear that somehow he will be there, just like Stadler was suddenly there in front of Jo.

2) The emotions and reactions of Jo Wilson (Camilla Luddington):

          Much like you could read so much from the wonderful acting that Morrison did as Dr. Stadler, Luddington really played the role of an abuse victim to the max. The dissociation when he first started talking to her, the panic attack shortly after, the way she seemed frozen with fear...it was so completely accurate to my experience. I had a flashback to those mornings on the school bus where I'd hold my breath as we pulled up to my ex's house and desperately hope that he wasn't riding the bus that day...then the way I just froze when he walked up the stairs and his eyes met mine and he shined that sinister grin at me. I also noticed all of the reactions and body language of Jo when they were signing the divorce papers: she had her hands on the table then suddenly moved them when he came to the table, she hesitated to take the pen from Stadler, she quickly signed then turned her face away from him. The fear was so thick you could just feel it, see it, smell it.

3) The protection, love, and emotional support from Meredith Grey (Ellen Pompeo):

          The only thing that makes an abusive relationship even worse than the abuse itself is not having anyone who believes you or supports you. My ex was so good at manipulation and acting that he was able to convince everyone I was lying and crazy, even my closest friends at the time, leaving me alone with only him. It's such a scary place to be alone in something so harmful, so toxic. In this episode, though, it was so amazing to see Meredith step up and vow to protect Jo. She held her while she cried, she stayed with her while the divorce papers were signed and took charge of the papers to ensure they would be executed, and she even called (though it was fake because the phones were still off) security when Stadler came back to get his last dig in regarding Jo's attempt to save the new victim. It's these types of friends and support people that help victims become survivors. I'm so thankful they showed that in the episode and felt it really helped keep Jo strong.

Thankfully my ex has been out of my life for over a decade and I've managed to recently start speaking out more about that dark part of my past. It is hard with trauma because many of us just want to close the door to that part of our past and never relive the emotions since they are often intense, conflicting, and painful. I'm learning that my Borderline Personality Disorder makes processing those emotions even more difficult as they are incredibly intense and it also explains why my PTSD can be so debilitating at times. I've survived suicide attempts and have scars from phases of self-harm that I tried to use to cope with the pain of the abuse. I think that people often shy away from showing these more heavy, difficult topics, but I'm glad to see that "Grey's Anatomy" was not only willing to dive into domestic abuse, but they were able to do it beautifully and with amazing accuracy. I highly encourage people to watch Season 14, Episode 9, but I will warm my fellow survivors out there to make sure you are prepared and safe before you watch. The emotions will be intense.

Why I Write

I've always loved to write, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it stems from my love of reading. Maybe it's because I've always received praise from teachers over my essays and assorted writings. Maybe it's because I loved getting and sending mail as a child. Maybe it's because I struggle with confrontation. Maybe it's because my head is always full and my thoughts get overwhelming. Maybe it's all or none of these reasons.

I do know this, though: when I write, the thoughts slow down and stop racing for a brief time. Words flow and show the truth. Paper doesn't judge or throw back comments. I never worry how the paper or the text box will respond to me or how it will point out all the flaws in my logic. My writing is true, it's raw, it's sometimes the most real version of myself I can find or provide.

I can't stand silence, though...that's why my work is filled with sound and why I carry headphones in my bag. Just like I crave to hear sounds through the day to remind me I'm not alone, I crave responses to my writing. I want to feel the eyes of another carefully studying my words, dissecting my useless ramblings.

I was recently told that my words have power, and I laughed. I'm one of the most powerless people I know. My words aren't magical, they hold no authority. They often fall on deaf ears or are discarded as soon as they are discovered by the eyes of another. My words captivate no one and cause nothing but rifts in my relationships at best. I'm nearly certain the only power this blog holds is that it's cost me multiple friendships this year with women that I do consider powerful, ladies I see as amazing and highly admire.

The only dwelling where my colloquy seizes any glimpse of control is within my own mind. That's where the words begin and where they end, in the prison of my own making. There they sit, develop, and transform into something one can only imagine. That's why I must release them; writing is the only path to free myself from my thoughts.

My words are true, my words are real, my words are valid. You don't have to agree with what I say or how I write, but that doesn't make them lies. You can pass me in the hallway with a cold stare where a caring smile used to be or you can ignore my existence all together if you feel my thoughts are too much, I accept your rejection. My words aren't powerful and all they bring me is pain, but I'll keep writing them anyway. I'll just be filled with more thoughts and feelings of overwhelming regret and rejection that will need to be released.

When I write, I can see the words coming to life. I have the ability to shape them, to change them, to build them anyway I desire. I feel like an artist choosing tools and colors as I carefully process and select what to say next. When I write, everything is clear: there's no conflict between my head and my heart, my voice and my face. There are only the words. Words don't lie or try to cover up the truth, words are what you make them, words are exactly what they spell and say.  Words are like glass, like clear crystals, and you can see right through them. You can find the honest answer in my words, you can see into my soul.

A good friend of mine stated that I have important and valid things to say. I'm not sure that my words are ever really that important to anyone besides myself. Then again, maybe that is a portion of why I feel compelled to not simply scribble some nonsensical verbage into a leather-bound book but to make some of my thoughts digital and share them with the world.

I think the real trick of a gifted writer is using the powers of word manipulation for good. If words really do hold power, if they are valid and important, then we must consider these when we begin to write. Words are not to be thrown around loosely, although our President seems to think differently. Words can unravel someone to the point of no return, or raise another to the highest mountains on the Earth. Words can connect, words can destroy. Words can save us or murder us all in the same day.

Right now my thoughts are racing and they've been eating away at me nonstop for days. Writing helps me slow them down; writing seems to ground me, if even just for a brief moment. My words don't lie and my paper doesn't judge...but I cannot live in the silence of a journal always. Words are too powerful and important to always remain hidden. Words were made for reading; words are how we learn.

And for some, like me...words are how we go on living, words are how we silence the screams inside our minds.