Falling Apart

I thought I was pulling myself out of that last black hole. Slowly and tentatively I really thought that I would improve my functioning and coping. I know with BPD that things can turn on a sixpence and here I am, standing in an emotional tornado, trying to think. 

Observe and describe they say in DBT. Yeah done that. Panic continued to rise. Then I start pacing and want to mutter to myself but my son is in the next room so must stay calm. Stay calm stay calm stay calm. Breathe. That helps a bit. Shit! Tears now? Can’t cry. Choke them back. What am I even crying about anyway? My skin feels extra sensitive. It’s crawling just from the sensation of my own clothes. In the kitchen I pretend to shout at an invisible force “I CAN’T CRY! I’M NOT ALLOWED AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE ANYONE AS GOOD AT HOLDING IT IN AS ME!” I only mouth the words, no sound owing to boy in next room. I imagine throwing a glass vase at whatever this entity is.

The panic builds and builds because I  in charge of one child, have a 2nd to pick up from nursery soon and a dinner to make. Need to stay with it. I’ve used DBT skills and grounding techniques all day but it’s doing diddly squat now. This is what happens. I try and tell them and they never take me seriously.

I’m wondering wtf to do and remember that I have lorazepam for emergency use. This counts. I take it and 2 propranolol too. I make my son a hot chocolate and do so mindfully…stay with it, stay with it.

I realise I need help and then I remember that there is none. Why is that the story of my life?! So I write this waiting for the meds to kick in, breathing and wishing that someone could remove me from this tornado. That’d be great.

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