One of the first items you learn when you enter dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) is, "There are only 4 possible solutions to any problem." You can change the situation, change your attitude, radically accept the situation for what it is, or do nothing and continue to suffer. It's simple, so clear cut and honest.
Here's the honesty: today was brutal for SO many reasons (that, fortunately for you, I'm not going into at the moment). I walked in the door late this afternoon with two kids screaming at each other while my mind and my body were also screaming at me. The emotional intensity and the quantity of thoughts racing created that storm inside me, that horrible storm that usually sends me into distress. Maybe the distress would have come and consumed me if it would have been given time, but instead a message came to help with the storm in my mind.
"Here's how you can wash away the storm. Once you've calmed down your daughters, lie down. Don't move, don't do anything strenuous. Just rest."
Though not completly, I did listen to the advice. I sat in the recliner for a solid 20 minutes, focusing on my breathing, not giving attention to my thoughts and just letting them come and go, picturing waves on the shore. It wasn't an instant cure, but it did allow the storm to settle and become just clouds looming over.
In that time, I remembered the simple fact that there are only 4 solutions to every problem. The causes of the storm today cannot be changed, nor can I continue to suffer. I may eventually come to control my attitude towards it and find the positive, but right now there's still just too much to be able to simply do that. So, we come to radical acceptance...
Radical acceptance is choosing to accept life on life's terms without resisting. It's saying yes to life just as it is, embracing the good and the bad, simply allowing it to be. Sometimes radical acceptance isn't a one-shot deal: sometimes it's something we must do repeatedly, choosing to embrace life as it is over and over again.
I didn't choose what is happening, and though I desperately want to blame myself, it really isn't my fault (or anyone else's). I just have to accept the situation, the future, the new reality of what life will look like for me and my family. I may have to accept this situation over and over for years, through more situations that are possibly coming for us down the road, for obstacles that will continue to present themselves forever more.
So, tonight, as my youngest daughter falls asleep in my lap while I type away, I choose to love, I choose to embrace, I choose to accept.
Monday, June 18, 2018
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Safe
"Are you safe?"
It's a question I have answered countless times over the years, especially in the last 12 months. Tonight, however, I was the one who turned and asked another this small query. I asked someone else in my DBT Skills Group.
When you suffer from a mental illness, you often become very aware of signs that show one is not "well." You notice changes in appearance, mannerisms, posture. You become aware of "clue words" people may speak, or even the words they don't speak but express with their face. You may even just have an intuitiveness or emotional connection, a strong sense of empathy towards others.
I knew tonight it was my turn to ask the question, my turn to be that hand outstretched, my turn to be the life guard. I knew my question would need no explaination, and I knew that the person would answer honestly if asked. After all, most people with mental illness don't try to hide their suicidal thoughts if you call them out on it: nobody really wants to die, they just want help to end the pain.
"Are you safe?"
"Right now, I think so."
"Here, let me give you my number. I'll remind you to use your skills."
Without hesitation, I offered my number. I glanced at our DBT coach, making sure she approved, and she smiled. I knew in that moment I'd done something right, maybe for the first time in a long time, I'd done something to be proud of myself for doing.
"I think it's a great idea that you guys keep each other accountable, bring each other up, remind each other to do your homework."
So, tonight, for the first time since starting DBT, I felt connected to the group as we all excitedly exchanged numbers. There's been so much flux, so many members coming and going, that I had started to feel I was the only one committed to working towards "a life worth living." But this time, the group seems different, and I'm so glad. The best part? I was the one who reached out to initiate this, I was the one to ask instead of answer the question.
"Are you safe?"
It's a question I have answered countless times over the years, especially in the last 12 months. Tonight, however, I was the one who turned and asked another this small query. I asked someone else in my DBT Skills Group.
When you suffer from a mental illness, you often become very aware of signs that show one is not "well." You notice changes in appearance, mannerisms, posture. You become aware of "clue words" people may speak, or even the words they don't speak but express with their face. You may even just have an intuitiveness or emotional connection, a strong sense of empathy towards others.
I knew tonight it was my turn to ask the question, my turn to be that hand outstretched, my turn to be the life guard. I knew my question would need no explaination, and I knew that the person would answer honestly if asked. After all, most people with mental illness don't try to hide their suicidal thoughts if you call them out on it: nobody really wants to die, they just want help to end the pain.
"Are you safe?"
"Right now, I think so."
"Here, let me give you my number. I'll remind you to use your skills."
Without hesitation, I offered my number. I glanced at our DBT coach, making sure she approved, and she smiled. I knew in that moment I'd done something right, maybe for the first time in a long time, I'd done something to be proud of myself for doing.
"I think it's a great idea that you guys keep each other accountable, bring each other up, remind each other to do your homework."
So, tonight, for the first time since starting DBT, I felt connected to the group as we all excitedly exchanged numbers. There's been so much flux, so many members coming and going, that I had started to feel I was the only one committed to working towards "a life worth living." But this time, the group seems different, and I'm so glad. The best part? I was the one who reached out to initiate this, I was the one to ask instead of answer the question.
"Are you safe?"
Sunday, June 3, 2018
When My Borderline Personality Disorder Makes Me Feel Like The Boy Who Cried Wolf
It is funny how stories from our childhood can be suddenly triggered to re-enter our memories as an adult. Lately I've been reminded of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf." As a child, I couldn't understand why the boy would tell such an obvious lie, especially more than one time. As an adult with borderline personality disorder, though, the story now looks completely different, something entirely new.
My illness often impacts my perception of reality, and admittedly, I never refuse attention. I've never approved of my attention-seeking actions, though, I've never thought they were okay. I simply just can't help myself in those moments that I feel that I'm in crisis: The pain and desire to be comforted outweighs any logic that would tell me what I'm doing is wrong.
I've been told that I'm incapable of real and sustainable relationships because of this manipulative behavior, a behavior that often happens on its own. I've also been told by my therapist that it is impossible for people to handle anyone who is constantly in crisis, it is simply unmanageable and emotionally draining (not to mention unfair). So why do I keep sabotaging myself, why cut off my nose to spite my face?
The reality is that I cannot comprehend how to be loved otherwise, I don't believe people will love me and stick around if I'm genuinely fine. I also do not trust myself: I fear thst if I try to make it through a crisis moment on my own that I will fail, that I might actually die. Lastly, I don't always see that I'm attempting manipulation or seeking attention in the heat of the moment. Sometimes it is well after the fact before I realize, before I apologize...but often then it's definitely too late.
I've recently made some amazing new friends: beautiful women who seem to see past every last one of my flaws, loving ladies who accept me completely as I am even knowing that I'm damaged goods. I feeling myself pulling them when I begin to panic, though; I tug at them when I'm in crisis, desperately craving a savior to stop me from my own demise. Just like the villagers who grow tired of the boy's false cries of the wild, though, I know that these people will become immune to my outcries for help before long (and honestly I'm afraid one already has).
All I want is to actually have people who love and care about me, borderline personality disorder and all. I want to be more than another statistic, another borderline who dies by suicide, another person who dies alone. I am committed to entering recovery, I am committed to bettering myself through dialectical behavior therapy. I can only hope that I can do these things, that I can save myself, before these amazing friends give up and leave, because "nobody believes a list, even when he tells the truth."
My illness often impacts my perception of reality, and admittedly, I never refuse attention. I've never approved of my attention-seeking actions, though, I've never thought they were okay. I simply just can't help myself in those moments that I feel that I'm in crisis: The pain and desire to be comforted outweighs any logic that would tell me what I'm doing is wrong.
I've been told that I'm incapable of real and sustainable relationships because of this manipulative behavior, a behavior that often happens on its own. I've also been told by my therapist that it is impossible for people to handle anyone who is constantly in crisis, it is simply unmanageable and emotionally draining (not to mention unfair). So why do I keep sabotaging myself, why cut off my nose to spite my face?
The reality is that I cannot comprehend how to be loved otherwise, I don't believe people will love me and stick around if I'm genuinely fine. I also do not trust myself: I fear thst if I try to make it through a crisis moment on my own that I will fail, that I might actually die. Lastly, I don't always see that I'm attempting manipulation or seeking attention in the heat of the moment. Sometimes it is well after the fact before I realize, before I apologize...but often then it's definitely too late.
I've recently made some amazing new friends: beautiful women who seem to see past every last one of my flaws, loving ladies who accept me completely as I am even knowing that I'm damaged goods. I feeling myself pulling them when I begin to panic, though; I tug at them when I'm in crisis, desperately craving a savior to stop me from my own demise. Just like the villagers who grow tired of the boy's false cries of the wild, though, I know that these people will become immune to my outcries for help before long (and honestly I'm afraid one already has).
All I want is to actually have people who love and care about me, borderline personality disorder and all. I want to be more than another statistic, another borderline who dies by suicide, another person who dies alone. I am committed to entering recovery, I am committed to bettering myself through dialectical behavior therapy. I can only hope that I can do these things, that I can save myself, before these amazing friends give up and leave, because "nobody believes a list, even when he tells the truth."
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