I don't feel depressed, I still have goals and things I view as positive. I'm not manic, I haven't the energy. I'm not feeling reflective or stable; I just feel on edge, and I don't know how to explain it.
I'm not paranoid, because I'm not envisioning that this is some conspiracy or that someone's out to get me. However, I'd be dumb to not be a little wary of what this all means for me going forwards.
It's more than a little anxiety, it's like I've got a thousand Sneakoscopes (Harry Potter reference for anyone wondering) whistling and spinning in my head but I'm constantly hitting the override button because I can't find any known threat.
PTSD is hard to manage because you're battling a threat that's long gone. You're wired for a war that remains only in your memory, but still just as afraid as you were at the time. Flashbacks aren't cute things you post on Instagram on a Friday, they're not as simple as recalling a memory; your brain transports you there and not only can you see the event unfolding but you can taste, smell, hear and feel everything as though it is actually reoccurring at that moment in time. It's the closest thing you'll ever get to time travel I'd imagine; except you have no control of the destination or how it affects you.
BPD is hard to manage because one of the most unpleasant traits is how deeply you feel emotions. It's said to be like getting third degree burns due to the intensity. I've said this before in other posts I'm certain, but I just want to hammer this point home. Feelings HURT us. And they're confusing and overwhelming and many times you find yourself questioning if what you are feeling is rational or just amplified way out of proportion. 'Should I feel this way?' Is something I think about numerous times a day.
I have both PTSD and BPD; so when my flashbacks surface not only am I having to face the trauma again, but it's like having lava poured onto my flesh at the same time.
I've never really explained this to anybody, but I don't want to be touched when I'm emotional because I can't handle a single other sensation. It's not comforting to me in that moment, it's just another thing to try and process. I know it's probably hard for my family to have me reject their comfort, after all nobody wants to see somebody suffer, but it's torture for me to be cuddled when I feel like my insides are being liquefied. I have to self-soothe; maybe this also stems from my childhood and self-reliance but it really is just too much for me. Once the pain has reduced to a more manageable level then I can settle a little and may be willing to be comforted with more than words.
I do feel subsequently that, as when these traits are traumatising me hand-in-hand with one another my psychosis is at it's most controlling, when I ask for help from services designed for these difficulties I am not wrong for expecting at least a returned phone call. I am a huge believer and advocate of the 'reach out' campaign but recently have been left feeling abandoned and incredibly alone in all of this.
Of course I employ the coping techniques I've learned over the years, and I implement ways to keep myself safe but when you're told to ask for help (which goes against my very nature) and then get none for your effort, it's very damaging. There's still an unspoken issue in the system where you're either too well or too ill and it appears if you're somewhere dead centre to those points you can get some help and if not; better luck next time?
Why does it seem to take reaching crisis point for someone to take you seriously? Why is it when you're sat there crying about how frightened you are and how damn hard you're trying to stay sane and alive that you're seemingly left to fight it out alone?
I thought long and hard about posting this, because I'm not in any way suggesting people don't reach out, it's always the right thing to do. I'm going to keep doing so, no matter how devastating the outcome seems, because I know I deserve it.
For tonight at least, I'm going to get an early night after dinner and a bath and try not to think about the million things I'll end up thinking about anyway 😪
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