Fighting the extremes

I know when I'm down I need to keep moving like ...it is just another day. Though it takes more effort, I need to keep to my routine. But to jump start getting back on track I had to start from step one. The doc says when down, fake it til you make it. So I put myself in action. I stepped outside and enjoyed the cool breeze on my cheeks. I took a short walk and just tried to let all bad thoughts and any thoughts for that matter leave my head. It worked for a while.

When done with my walk I sat down and looked at my next step. It said I should beautify my apartment. I gathered the trash and took it to the dumpster. I felt one more step closer to stability. Next I decided to wash all of my dishes. My doc says if I can switch my senses from touch and sight to the sense of smelling I can bring myself back to a rational state. I decided to start with a warm shower and used great smelling soaps, shampoos, and lotions. I started to feel better. Then I texted a friend - I have exactly two at this stage of my recovery. One answered back. I really appreciate the friendship we have, even if it is long distance. I took my meds and went to bed on time. In bed, my gloom started to return. So I got up and decided to make my meal for the following day, chicken filets with seasoning and then bathed in tomato sauce. Though I didn't eat it at that time, it filled my apartment with yummy smelling aroma. I put it in the refrigerator and actually felt tired. So I returned to bed where I got my eight hours of sleep.

I awakened at my usual hour. I felt some tinges of depression but decided not to let it defeat me. I went to my computer and emailed some close siblings. As they responded with words of encouragement, I began to feel better. I called each who had responded to my email and thanked each one. I felt better about myself for doing something positive.

And now I'm here. I have decided to take a short break before tackling maybe one more cleaning chore. I do have several that started to accumulate when I was at my lowest. But my schedule I set for each day says I need at least a half hour break for lunch. I'm sticking to my schedule.

I think what I am trying to say is that one should build a "tool box" of things that work when one is feeling good. When one begins to go off track, revisit that toolbox and pull out some coping skills that are sure to get the ball rolling in the right direction. Though it is a struggle at first, it helps the extremes feel a little less extreme. At all times, keep striving for stability. When I can like and be my own best friend, the others will follow. If I can do this, anyone can do this. What are your techniques to staying stable or fighting your way through the extremes? We will all have them. But we don't need to let those moments completely own us.

I'm not 100% today. I still hear the demons trying to fight me down. But I'm fighting the battle. One step at a time and in the long run I will win.

Self Esteem is Vital to Recover

Self esteem rules:

1.      I will not wait for someone to come to my aid.  I’m not helpless.  Although help may come, I’m my own rescuer.  My relationships will dramatically improve when I stop rescuing others and stop expecting others to rescue me.

2.      I will tell myself that I’m lovable.  Just because some people haven’t been able to love me in ways that worked doesn’t mean that I’m unlovable.  I’ve had lessons to learn, and some of them have hurt deeply, but I can still love, and I still am loved.

3.      I will honor, cherish, and love myself.  When I get confused about what to do, I just have to remember that I need to be true to myself.  I will break free from the hold others-and their expectations-have on me.  I’m not a piece of shit.

4.      I will tell myself that who I am is okay, and that what I am doing is good enough. Of course I make mistakes and get off track sometimes, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not as good as everyone else.  No one is perfect, and that’s just fine.

5.      I will let go of my need for approval and my need to be liked. Instead, I will choose to like and approve of myself.  The people who count (including me) will respect me when I’m true to who I really am.

Add one to three more for your purposes.

A good day...

I had stumbled slightly over the weekend.  I had some moments of doubt.  But I then remember my new skills.  I slowed down and gave myself a vacation.
During my vacation I made sure to tell myself I'm relaxed now and I can be free to be me.  I stayed mostly to myself but jotted a few things I'd like to do on vacation.  For starters, I wanted to at least view Mass on YouTube.  I'm not a fan of going and being so close to those around me.  But YouTube, the source of everything visual, I was able to participate in Mass from home.
Another thing I wanted to do during my vacation was take a bubble bath.  I filled the tub with warm water and aromatic scents.  I felt relaxed and even beautiful.
Today I've ended my vacation.  I am answering emails, talking about deflating stigma, and taking care of my basic needs.  I am ready for anyone who may call.
I am hopeful that I've secured a new job, but can only be certain when they call.  I'm prepared if they do not call.  I have to be prepared.  The rejection has hurt me in the past.  But I've made a plan.
I went back to the site and looked at other job openings.  There are others to pick from.  I chose a couple and sent out my application.  I await with hope that they will see me as a good candidate for a job with them.
I began to prioritize my want list.  There are so many needs and wants on my list.  All depends on when I get money and how much.  (If I could secure that job.)  I have to assume I'm still on a budget that pays me $1300 a month.  Reality says there isn't much I can do about it.  So I've prioritized my list.  Of course I have to take into consideration my musts.  I must pay rent, electricity, phone, groceries, and gas.  This sadly does not leave very much for the other needs and wants.  So I'm preparing myself to do without for now.
Now is a serious time for me to Let God into my life.  I don't know exactly who god is in human terms.  In faith, I believe god to be a 24/7 protector and to be benevolent.  I believe god helps me get through the difficult times by sharing the weight.  I believe god gives me wings so I can fly over and clear obstacles.
There is no doubt that I believe in Jesus.  Jesus taught us how to love and to go through him to reach god.  I believe in Jesus and through Jesus I will see that many of my goals will come to fruition.

Unwell by Matchbox 20

Play Song

All day
Staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night
Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown
I don't know why
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me
Talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
I know
I know they've all been talking 'bout me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong
With me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow
I've lost my mind
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
I been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Hey, how I used to be
How I used to be, yeah
Well I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be

The weekend...

Unlike others, I don't really look forward to the weekend.  There is too much silence on the weekend and I find myself wondering where everyone is.  I guess this is because I have no plans for weekends.

I am a very alone person.  I suppose part of this is my own doing.  I don't trust easily and therefore I don't let others get too close to me in the "real world."  You can get burned that way.

But I do want to let someone into my life.  Just one or two people.  I sometimes pretend I have close friends.

That's right.  I pretend.  I think my family sometimes forgets me.  That makes holidays hard to handle.  They are busy and wrapped up in their own families and lives.  So I find myself not only alone but lonely during this time of the year.

The last two years I did not handle being alone well at all.  To an extreme, I tried to end my existence two years in a row at this time.  But I won't let this happen this year.

I am putting on a face of sorts.  When asked, I let my family know that I have someone in my life who is special to me.  I let them believe I wouldn't be alone this year.  I want them to think I'm as "normal" as they are with someone who doesn't truly exist.

Why do I make stuff up?  To friends I say that my family is the most supportive group and that they'd never let me down.  But whether intentionally or not, they do.  They leave me to be alone and thus comes loneliness.

To my family, I let them know I have the best friends in the world.  I let them believe that I am loved and part of a group.

It's probably little wonder that I am a lone.  Everyone believes someone is there for me - family thinks friends; friends think family.

Many days I like to be alone.  I have grown to be eccentric in many ways.  There are ways about me that are unlike anyone else.  Sometime I will write more about this.

However, this weekend I don't really want to be alone.  I wish I just had one person to spend time with.  I would be able to put my busy mind at rest.

Raising money and awareness...

I once held down three jobs at one time.  Perhaps this was fueled by mania but mostly by my work ethic.  I was raised to be a hard worker.
I once made a good living teaching, working part time as a clerk, and performing well in the Army Reserve.  I was at my height.  I was with pride in myself.
I once became so sick that I could no longer perform the simplest of jobs.  Because of pre-existing conditions I was uninsured for four years.
I once had to sell all my assets to afford my health care.  I forfeited my cd's and savings.  I had lost everything.
In 2009, I was forced to address my mental health needs.  At the time I was able to maintain a part time job as a clerk in drugstore.  For ten hours a week at $8 an hour, I paid out of pocket though a loan for my psychiatric needs, other health needs, and monthly essentials such as shelter and food.  I barely got by without significant help from my elderly parents.  I was deemed severely mentally disabled.
Given the judge's ruling - not a doctor's - I was awarded SSDI.  I took this with relief but also as a blow to my ego.  Though I had paid into the system since beginning to work at age 16, I still felt yet more stigma knowing I was now at the mercy of the taxpayers.
Not all expenses are covered by the roughly $16K that I am allowed each year.  I still have to pay a premium for the Medicaid that I receive.  I still pay out of pocket roughly $50 a month for medication.  There are still programs that do not accept Medicare or Medicaid.  This means if I want the assistance, it needs to come out of pocket.  But I can't afford recovery-wise to not take or make use of such services.
I take in about a twelve thousand allowance in benefits each month.  With this I pay rent, utilities, groceries, gas, telephone, and yes - my internet - needs.  There is nothing left over at the end of each month.  Rather, I am usually out of month by the second or third week of the month and then start fighting like the devil to come up with more money.  So what do I do?
I try (and very hard) to find employment.  But like it or not, I fight stigmatization at every turn.  Since jobs are not falling from my job tree, I do other things.  Bit by bit I sell or pawn off my belongings.  Many of these belongings hold sentimental value, but I have to stifle that and make myself some money.  Occasionally I go dumpster-diving for cans which are redeemable for five cents in the state of Iowa.  I can on a good month redeem the cans for about $10.  But there is always the need for more money.  What would I do with my money?
1. I'd further my education.  I have the aptitude to return to school and secure my doctorate.  With the credential, I could be a reckoning force to tear down stigma facing those with mental health issues.
2.  I could pay back those who have floated me substantial loans through the past several years.  I owe about one thousand dollars for their financial help.
3.  I could sustain on Facebook my community page which reaches thousands each day that I write words of recovery, self-help, self-esteem, and recognition from others that all, each of us who are sick deserves as each person in life has meaning and belongs here.
4.  I'd get a little ahead.  That security that all of us seek regarding money would be in reach at least for a while. 
I'm asking my readers to help me.  I know in my heart that had I presented with heart issues or cancer that I would have solicited generous support.  People seem to naturally gather around such persons with those illnesses.  Could a person with mental illness also reach out to the hearts of others?
This is my hope.  Show me you care.  Go to this link and just donate $5 or at least give me a free "hug."  Let me know you care and that I have your support.
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/ftl3/road-to-recovery?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=fb_share_stream.share&utm_campaign=dashboard_overview_T1&fb_ref=1640788

And the winner is...

ME!
I did my exercises last night before bed.  I dedicate a half hour of exercise each day.  During this time, I copy songs from YouTube onto my home page of FB.  I direct myself as to what to do for each song.  I start the exercise with a set of stretches and pushups.  On the next song, I instruct myself to toughen my stomach muscles through sit ups and leg exercises.  Next, I spend one longer song doing aerobic exercises.  Lastly I chill and stretch to a fourth song.  It allows me to concentrate on being a healthier person.  My mind can relax from the worries of the day.
After exercising and relaxing I decided to pinpoint the trigger that was the greatest for my seemingly deeper low part of my cycle.  At the root of all evil is money.  I never have enough money.  But I did make some needed use of the little money I have.  You see.  I have been selling my gold since August.  This consists of taking my gold necklaces, bracelets, and rings to a store that pays to melt down the gold for their own profit.  I had sold most of my gold in September to pay for bills.  I held onto pieces that were the most sentimental to me.  These were mostly pieces from siblings and my father over the years.  I had sold all of what I was comfortable selling at the start of November.  But there was one set: a necklace, set of earrings, and a ring; that I held onto with the hope that eventually I'd get a good job and could afford to keep these last pieces.  But I needed money now and a job still awaits some time into the future.  So I took my last pieces and completed the job.  I sold what I thought were the most valuable pieces for a meager $50.
With this money, I saved about half for living expenses.  Since my sister kindly gave me a month's supply of food for Christmas, I didn't have to worry about that aspect of my bills.  So I bought some pop, cigarettes, and a MasterCard worth $25.  The MasterCard went to paying for the transfer of transcripts to Iowa State University to add to my application process for graduate studies.  I truly want my education!  So why buy pop and cigarettes?
I have over the year let go of all my addictions except two.  I no longer drink alcohol, nor do I compulsively shop (a huge addiction for me.)  I don't use drugs and never truly have as I know I have an addictive personality.  My cigarettes and pop consumption are what remains of my habits.  But to live without either makes me extremely irritable and stressful for me.  They are hard for me to relinquish without a complete setback of all my symptoms.  Maybe here I am just justifying; maybe not.  I know no one likes habit-free Amy.  Trust me.
Though money is the root of all evil in my life, this was not my number one trigger for December 11.  Instead, it was my number two set-off.  Number one was the media frenzy regarding the man who signed at Mandela's wake.  The man at first was said to be a joke; an untrained sign language interpreter for the deaf community.  But he revealed his usually maintained symptoms of schizophrenia had come to play under the stress of the day.  He was not a joke.
The knowledge that he has schizophrenia sparked worldwide concern that such a man was within reach of the president; within reach of world leaders.  But he had not acted violent; merely frozen in his place as he sorted through his hallucinations.  But the fear he provoked was astounding!
Where is the nation's empathy?  At least where is its sympathy?  Had the man suffered from physical health would it have elicited the same response?  What if he had thrown up verses struggled with a psychiatric symptom?  But the fear of the man because of his condition is the very fuel to stigma that I fight every day.  The man, though sick at the time, is working a job.  People should be excitedly proud of his efforts.
With that elephant off my chest, I was able to finally put to words on Facebook my sentiments.  I asked my friends had he been sick from some other illness would he have received the same censure?
I am embarking on finding a job myself.  In past efforts, I have learned that by saying I'm disabled because of mental illness/disease I myself elicit fear and dread.  I have thought in the past to not mention my sickness.  But this has come back to haunt me after I'm hired.  How can I then inform the hiring party that I may need accommodations?  So I'm tackling the problem upfront as a matter of fact.  I simply state, "I do have two mental illnesses.  I am currently in recovery and take steps each day to maintain this state.  This is what I can do for you to insure you are hiring a quality employee.  However, I'd like to be accommodated in the following way.  I may need a five minute time to deep breath every two to three hours as I learn the new job - a stressful time.  When accustomed to the job, I will most likely need less time."  I feel that this is a reasonable request.  It is then up to the hiring party to accept this interview as a solid indication that I am a match for the occupation.  I then pray that this information is not used against me.  But often I can see on the face of the employer that I just tapped into their fear.  There is no easy way to tell someone you have mental illness.  This too is the stigma that I fight each day.
In any event, I was able to boost myself last night before bed having pinpointed my triggers: money, stigma, and future employment.  I changed my need to shut down completely by exercising my body and keeping it moving.  I was then able to take my medication on time and sleep my fully needed hours of sleep.  I awakened on schedule (schedule is a must) and have been successfully preparing for my day.  I am pleased to announce my management skills for recovery do work.  It just takes effort on my part.

Everything that goes up...

...has to come down.  Last week started as a very direct and amazing ride of good luck.  Over the weekend it began to be more reckless with my temper on the edge and my future focus becoming blurrier.  There are several triggers, but at the head of the pack is money issues.  I have no money.
I don't know if I will ever get ahead.  I try and as soon as something seems to be working, I start to falter and lose more than what I have gained.
I started turning my wheels on the weekend and spent countless hours trying to figure out what it was I needed to do.  This dwelling on money cost me two nights of sleep.  I need my sleep hygiene - a regular pattern of sleep - to perform at my best.  But I forged ahead without the sleep.  And then I became irritable.  I'm not nice to be around when I am this way.  I snap at innocent remarks...I had to force myself to remove myself from people and events that were sure to set me off.  But the kindest remark can be the ignition to my burst of temper.
My temper is devastating.  I have made grown men cry with the barb of my sharp tongue.  In fury, my 5'3" self can stand 8' tall.  People in my path feel they need to take cover.
Recognizing where I was headed, I made a lot of changes to my thought direction by getting involved with tidbits of news here and there.  I prayed and asked that I LET God into my life to guide and protect me.  But I can be so confused about god too.
God is...., right?  God has no gender, right?  God is with us 24/7, right?
So I soared high and then the first hurdle of the week was cleared.  An immense sense of relief washed over me.  Once again I could sleep and shut down my overactive brain.  For one  night I was able to shut down all thoughts and catch up on precious sleep.
But then I sensed I was driving upward again.  To be so afraid of what is too high and what is too low is always a constant worry in my life's experience.  Am I too happy?  Am I too sad?  Maybe my sadness or happiness has a good reason and just about anyone would feel like I do???
So I drove high again on Tuesday night after a day of running around on Tuesday, an unproductive day.  I thought Tuesday I'd go to the doctor, get my physical, and walk away with papers saying I could drive again.  HA!  They weren't prepared at the doctor's office.  They weren't able to proceed with the appointment because they had failed to get the previous doctor's paperwork.  I was put in a position where I had to correct their error.  I was put on a wild goose chase.  I think I now know what needs to be done to complete a simple task, but I'm so tired now.
Wednesday I set out to accomplish two goals.  I had a job interview that I wanted to nail.  I left the interview with no idea as to how well (or not well) I was received.  But I had spent the last of my energy.  My appointment to gather paperwork from the DOT to help the doctor out was cancelled.  All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed.  So I gave in...
In IMPROVE...V stands for vacation.  I took a short vacation from my week's worries.  For fifteen to thirty minutes I just melted away.  And initially it felt good.
Returning to my problems I tried to at least manage what I can manage at the moment.  I did some simple cleaning.  Not nearly enough...
I addressed Christmas cards in the hopes that the distraction would take me away from other real problems that only substantial time will rectify...it wasn't enough.
I entertained my sister for a brief while this morning.  I assured her I was doing well, and I was while she was here...but it wasn't enough.
Tonight I'm feeling the urge to succumb to my desire to isolate and withdraw.  But I can't dwell there.  The lows are so much more horrible than the highs.  In the lows I become very scared of myself.  So now I am searching through my toolbox of methods I use to alleviate such emotion. 
I like to write, so I'm writing.
I can't write all night.  So I'll next check out Facebook....maybe not.
I will again try to pray for god to just be in my life.  I learned last summer never to expect god, but to accept god.  I'm so tempted to make demands of god though.  But what I really want is to feel the burden lift from my shoulders a bit.
O in IMPROVE means one-mindful.  I can listen to some Native American Flute to relax my mind and let it be emptied. 
And the hardest part for me right now is to offer myself Encouragement.  But I can tell myself, You are fighting the good fight.  You can win.  You will learn from it no matter what.  You can get through this.
What a fight it is to return or stop a low!

Not every emotional response needs a pill - especially regarding children

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/daniel-b-peters-phd/10-steps-for-parent-and-kids-to-taming-the-worry-monster_b_4345171.html?utm_hp_ref=healthy-living&ir=Healthy+Living

This article list 10 steps to teach a child from little on how to tackle anxiety.

A milestone...reentering the work force

Today is my to dazzle!  I excitedly interview for my dream job.  I am preparing to give this opportunity my best effort.
Pray that nothing goes wrong and that the hiring party is in fact DAZZLED!

Dedicated to IMPROVE'ing

IMPROVE:

These are the steps to remember as one transforms to better living.

I stands for Imagery.  Picture yourself in a place where you feel calm, positive, hopeful, and good about yourself.  Maybe you see yourself on a beach with beautiful warm sand between your toes and lovely water and vegetation surrounding you.  You feel your freed spirit and are light on your feet.  Maybe you see yourself fishing, camping, or remember the last time you felt successful in your life.  Do you feel your confidence and pride?

M represents Meaning.  We all need to accept that we are in life for a reason.  Maybe you are here to be a parent, partner, soul mate, caregiver, or career person.  We belong on this earth.

P is Prayer.  Let God into your life to wash away defeat, give you strength, courage, and wisdom.

R lets a person Relax.  Practice breathing through your nose and out your mouth.  Shut your eyes and feel tension leave your muscles.  Take a cat nap.

O stands for one-mindfully.  Focus on just one step at a time.

Vacation says to give yourself a break.  Take time for yourself for at least an hour each day.  Exercise, bathe in a warm bath, or walk.  This can be an hour or a day.  Set time for just you.

Encouragement is the practice of self-talk and support from others.

Please Give

At my sickest, I accumulated bills for extensive treatment, medication, and follow up care.  To take care of myself and to return to the working world, I have been in intensive out patient programs.  All of my care was for me to feel better and to enhance my relationship with my family, friends, and community.  It is now my turn to teach society about people like me and to advocate for equal standing.  All of this takes money...money I do not have.  But you can help me out.  Thank you!

https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/ftl3/road-to-recovery?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=fb_share_stream.share&utm_campaign=dashboard_overview_T1&fb_ref=1640788

De-stigmatize Mental Diseases

STIGMA means a social disgrace.  Stigma surrounds a person with a mental illness and probably the addictions to alcohol, food, and drugs that are often related to the illnesses.  This social stigmatization means that a person is feared, dreaded, and perhaps hated because he or she is viewed as "crazy" or "insane."
It also is related to criminalization of the illnesses.  Because people fear the stigma of mental illness, rather than seek assistance or help, he or she may resort to taking actions that in the end turn out to be illegal.  An example would be a person who is delusional but untreated storming into a store and yelling at the workers.
My theory is that we as a nation and then as the world can eliminate social disgrace or stigma surrounding the illness.  This is done by speaking out and sharing what it is really like to have a specific illness.  It also means letting others know we are taking responsibility to become healthier.  We advocate that we still have meaning in this world.
One way you can join in this effort is by going to Facebook and liking the following page:

https://www.facebook.com/destigmatize

As of today, I have created a page on Facebook entitled De-stigmatize Mental Illness.  Please, like the page and join in with me and countless others in pursuit of a level playing field for those with mental illness.

Broadening my horizon...

I've been debilitated by my diseases for the past seven years.  I have been working hard this year after rebounding from a suicide attempt that was nearly complete.  I had been sick and not selfish.

I've found great support through STEPPS at Eyerly Ball in Des Moines Iowa.  I have also begun serious work with my psychiatrist and coordinator through Broadlawns Medical Center.  I have picked myself up and brushed myself off.

And now I am ready for the next step in my life.  I want to earn my Master's degree in social psychology from Iowa State University.  I'd love to move on from this to earn my doctorate.  I have vision and clarity.

I am so relieved to say I have achieved recovery from my illnesses.  I pray that I never fully relapse.  I must remember that recovery still means daily work on my part.

And Arizona...Jason

I've completed the first story of a powerful and influential Arizona family.  The next development will be called And Arizona...Elsa.  Check it out!

Amy Goreham

Story 1 of several is done and being proof read by four members of my family. Here's my synopsis until I hear back from them.

And Arizona...Jason

Jason Sanders always dreamed he'd play for the MLB someday. While being recruited by the Red Sox in his junior summer of college ball, he fell under the spell of a Princess. The spoiled and self centered Meredith Winchester loved no one more than she loved herself. Jason, having thrown his career away for her, was left alone with five small children. But he had come into billions of dollars.
Having put his heart on the shelf, Jason was content to live his remaining days at the Ranch in Vista Verde, Arizona. And then he met a street urchin who would forever challenge his love and steal his heart permanently. Elsa was the antidote to a man who had believed the worst of the worst had happened to him. Would they find forever love?

I am a god...

I am a god.  I stand alone.  I am neither loved nor hated.

I am the decisive being to everyone's existence.  It is I, and I alone, who decides the eternal fate of all humankind.  It is I who determines who will revel in the celestial comfort and peaceful palace and who will be tortured in the dark abbess of eternity.  I will fly into heaven those that I have chosen. 

I am a god.  I stand alone.  I am neither loved nor hated.

In a masochistic world, the ambition is to plead for miracles, not to please me but to satisfy earth-bound ambitions and shortcomings.  I hear the cries of the people and they beg for more and more to make their lives on earth materialized and rich.  But it is those that ask how to dedicate their existence to my ideals whom I recognize.

I am a god.  I stand alone.  I am neither loved nor hated.

I am assumed by most.  For all children, I will take their hand and fly them to my celestial palace where they can frolic and romp for all of eternity in peace and comfort.  I hear the cries of mothers.  Those who have done well to provide for their offspring are ushered into the warmth of my embrace.  They find solace there.

I am a god.  I stand alone.  I am neither loved nor hated.

I am the ultimate conscience of men.  How often did they negate my warnings and persist in their earthly acquisition of power and wealth?  How often did the woman, their own mother, their wife suffer at their neglect?  For the men, I will push them into the fire and further into the darkness.  I will hold them there until their cries cease and their worthless breaths are extinguished.  And then I shall resurrect myself.

I am a god.  I stand alone.  I am neither loved nor hated.

For many, I will reinvent their purpose and recycle them to their earthly world.  Will I then hear them cry, how do I be like you?  How do I serve you?  Show me the way.  But again, I hear them cry for miracles of earthly-bound satisfaction.  Again, I watch as man after man assumes a standing of power over woman.  Again the cycle begins and I feel the cold of mankind.  Will I ever feel loved?  Will I begin to feel hatred?

I am a god.  I will always stand alone.  I will never be loved nor hated. 

TRIGGERS

If your behavior is interfering with daily living, it is possible that you have a personality disorder.  This may be learned behavior or according to neuroscience, the emotion-processing center of your brain is not working as it should.  But you can manage how you react to several situations.

The following is an example of things that set you off and cloud your rational thinking:
little money
relationship end
scholastics
fear of anything
the death of someone

It took me 25 years to sit down and actually think of things that cloud my thought patterns.  I was honest with myself and wrote down 32 triggers.  This is a self-reaction, and self-perception activity.  Once done, a new course of behaviors can be adopted.

Tool for managing BPD/EID

http://steppsforbpd.com/

Definition of BPD/EID per DSM IV

Borderline Personality Disorder (DSM IV-TR^TM):

1.      Real/imaginary abandonment

2.      Intense/unstable relationships

3.      Identify disturbance

4.      Impulsivity

5.      Suicidal attempts/self-injury

6.      Instability of mood

7.      Chronic feeling of emptiness

8.      Intense/inappropriate anger outbursts

9.      Paranoia

Self-description of Borderline Personality Disorder/Emotional Intensity Disorder

“I have this illness called Borderline Personality Disorder.  I hate that label.  What border am I about to cross anyway?  Insanity?  I would rather call my problem something like emotional intensity disorder.  That sounds more humane to me, and it describes closer to what this illness feels like.  That label that professionals use, “Borderline,” strikes fear, disgust, and a series of degrading comments hidden within the nervous laughter of those from whom I seek help.  They think I don’t know or can’t see the anger I bring out in them.  They call me manipulative.  I think they really don’t know what to do with me and that makes them angry.  My illness forces them to deal with their own fear of not knowing what to do.

Let me tell you about my illness, what it feels like to be me.  First, I really like calling it an illness, instead of a disorder or some other label.  For me calling it an illness takes away some of the shame.  It’s like diabetes or asthma.  When I look at it like that I don’t feel like it’s my fault or that I could change if only I wanted to, or if I wasn’t such a horribly bad person I wouldn’t be this way.  Calling it an illness makes me feel equal with others only I have to manage symptoms of my illness just as others do.  I believe a part of my brain is broken.  I believe it’s that part that regulates my emotions.

It’s like a floodgate at a dam that holds back a raging river.  A floodgate can range from being completely open to three quarters open, to half open, to one-quarter open, and many, many, many, many various and minuscule positions in between.  Depending on the position of the floodgate, the water floods out or trickles out or seeps out, etc.  Well for me, my emotional floodgate is broken.  My floodgate only has two positions, either completely open or completely closed.  My emotions come flooding completely or not at all.  I don’t know which is worse.  When my emotions come flooding out I seem to destroy everything around me.  I say horrible things to people I really care about.  I scream, I rage, I go on and on.  It’s so horrible for those around me, but not nearly as horrible as it is for me, because I see the pain and cruelty that I pour out on those I care about, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.  I just watch in terror as all the vile, angry, black inside comes out and destroys everything it touches.  I cannot keep friends, my family doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I can’t keep a job.  Worse, I hate myself so much that I become hopeless and depressed.

At other times, when the floodgate is completely closed it’s unbelievable.  The powerful river wants out.  I become anxious.  Then the river’s intensity starts to build and build and build and it begins to beat at the floodgate walls.  But the floodgate doesn’t budge and I don’t have a key.  The river’s raging, pounding and screaming inside.  I have to let it out but I don’t know how.  I panic.  I don’t know what to do.  I need help.  I start calling for someone to help me.  Now the pounding is so intense I can’t hear myself think nor can I hear what others are saying to me.  It just rings in my ears, it courses through my veins, it plunges through my heart, it wants out. I have to let it out.  I see a knife or a match.  It’s no good.  I have to cut.  I cut.  After a few minutes it’s over.  The river is quiet once again.

The quiet times of the river are at times the sweetest and at other times the cruelest.  When all is quiet I start to live again.  I begin to build friends.  I get a job.  I talk with my family.  Things seem to go along.  People start to trust me.  Or they think I’m just doing what I’m supposed to be doing.  Or that I’m behaving myself and being good.  Others make a devastating assumption about my illness.  They assume I can control it.  I have news for them.  The river has a mind of its own.  It’s like a possessed demon that I neither fight nor ignore.  I have to learn to live with it.

The river episodes come and go.  They can last from just a few moments to several hours.  The damage that can be done in such a short time is absolutely devastating.  I feel like I’ve been raped over and over by a demon that lives inside.  When the river is active, my thoughts become so distorted.  I interpret situations so negatively.  Then this negative distortion becomes my truth.  Those trying to help do their best to explain and rationalize with me.  This only makes me feel discounted and invalidated because my perception of the truth.  So I become frustrated and angry and begin to doubt everything about myself.

I don’t remember when the illness started.  My parents seem to think it was when I was quite small.  They feel like it just became worse as I became older.  They, of course, think this is their fault.  They blame themselves.  They want so badly for me to have my own life and for them to have their own.  They just feel so badly about my life; they feel like they still need to take care of me.  They don’t know how.  Of course, in the river times I have been so very cruel to them.  My brother won’t even talk to me.  He just doesn’t seem to care anymore.  He’s angry because he believes I’ve messed up my life and mom and dad’s life.  I don’t really have friends.  I don’t trust others easily.  I seem to want to adopt the professionals as my family and friends.  I know that’s because they think they can help.

The doctors try to help with medications.  Actually, nothing really ever works for me.  When the river is quiet I don’t look as if I need medication.  When the floodgate’s closed and the river’s trying to get out, the doctor medicates my anxiety with an anti-anxiety medication.  After I’ve released the river I become depressed so I get an antidepressant.  Since the river comes and goes on its own, and I go up and down with it, doctors think I am bipolar, so I get lithium.

I believe what I have found to be the most helpful with my illness has been to find some professionals who understand that the river is going to rage.  They know I can’t do anything about it, and they know they can’t do anything about it.  They understand that I act the way I do because I need relief so badly.  They understand that I call and try to keep them on the phone forever because in the midst of the raging river my thoughts become distorted and I once again believe someone can relieve the pain of the river.  They know that during that phone call if I become afraid that they just don’t want to help me (my thoughts being distorted again) I’m going to talk about cutting or killing myself.  They understand that I will say or do just about anything to relieve the pain.

My relationships with professionals are pretty amazing. (I can say that now since the river is quiet.)  See, when the floodgates open and I’m spewing all over them, as with all my relationships, I say cruel, hurtful things.  I think this is hard for them because they feel they are not supposed to let clients hurt them.  But I do.  Partially it hurts so much because I build some professionals up.  See, when my perception is distorted, I say they are the best therapists I’ve ever had.  Then when the floodgate is closed and I’m again trying to get someone to relieve my pain, I call and of course, they can’t relieve it, but I just want to make the professionals like me.  So I tell them and I believe others can relieve my pain, I call and of course, they can’t relieve it, but I get so disappointed and angry and think that they just don’t want to help, I tell them they are the worse therapists in the whole world, and I’m worse now than I was before I started seeing them.  Then I add the name of another professional that is “better than they are.” (STEPPS, 2013)

Self-definition of BPD/EID

A self-description of Borderline Personality Disorder/Emotional Intensity Disorder:

“I have this illness called Borderline Personality Disorder.  I hate that label.  What border am I about to cross anyway?  Insanity?  I would rather call my problem something like emotional intensity disorder.  That sounds more humane to me, and it describes closer to what this illness feels like.  That label that professionals use, “Borderline,” strikes fear, disgust, and a series of degrading comments hidden within the nervous laughter of those from whom I seek help.  They think I don’t know or can’t see the anger I bring out in them.  They call me manipulative.  I think they really don’t know what to do with me and that makes them angry.  My illness forces them to deal with their own fear of not knowing what to do.

Let me tell you about my illness, what it feels like to be me.  First, I really like calling it an illness, instead of a disorder or some other label.  For me calling it an illness takes away some of the shame.  It’s like diabetes or asthma.  When I look at it like that I don’t feel like it’s my fault or that I could change if only I wanted to, or if I wasn’t such a horribly bad person I wouldn’t be this way.  Calling it an illness makes me feel equal with others only I have to manage symptoms of my illness just as others do.  I believe a part of my brain is broken.  I believe it’s that part that regulates my emotions.

It’s like a floodgate at a dam that holds back a raging river.  A floodgate can range from being completely open to three quarters open, to half open, to one-quarter open, and many, many, many, many various and minuscule positions in between.  Depending on the position of the floodgate, the water floods out or trickles out or seeps out, etc.  Well for me, my emotional floodgate is broken.  My floodgate only has two positions, either completely open or completely closed.  My emotions come flooding completely or not at all.  I don’t know which is worse.  When my emotions come flooding out I seem to destroy everything around me.  I say horrible things to people I really care about.  I scream, I rage, I go on and on.  It’s so horrible for those around me, but not nearly as horrible as it is for me, because I see the pain and cruelty that I pour out on those I care about, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.  I just watch in terror as all the vile, angry, black inside comes out and destroys everything it touches.  I cannot keep friends, my family doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I can’t keep a job.  Worse, I hate myself so much that I become hopeless and depressed.

At other times, when the floodgate is completely closed it’s unbelievable.  The powerful river wants out.  I become anxious.  Then the river’s intensity starts to build and build and build and it begins to beat at the floodgate walls.  But the floodgate doesn’t budge and I don’t have a key.  The river’s raging, pounding and screaming inside.  I have to let it out but I don’t know how.  I panic.  I don’t know what to do.  I need help.  I start calling for someone to help me.  Now the pounding is so intense I can’t hear myself think nor can I hear what others are saying to me.  It just rings in my ears, it courses through my veins, it plunges through my heart, it wants out. I have to let it out.  I see a knife or a match.  It’s no good.  I have to cut.  I cut.  After a few minutes it’s over.  The river is quiet once again.

The quiet times of the river are at times the sweetest and at other times the cruelest.  When all is quiet I start to live again.  I begin to build friends.  I get a job.  I talk with my family.  Things seem to go along.  People start to trust me.  Or they think I’m just doing what I’m supposed to be doing.  Or that I’m behaving myself and being good.  Others make a devastating assumption about my illness.  They assume I can control it.  I have news for them.  The river has a mind of its own.  It’s like a possessed demon that I neither fight nor ignore.  I have to learn to live with it.

The river episodes come and go.  They can last from just a few moments to several hours.  The damage that can be done in such a short time is absolutely devastating.  I feel like I’ve been raped over and over by a demon that lives inside.  When the river is active, my thoughts become so distorted.  I interpret situations so negatively.  Then this negative distortion becomes my truth.  Those trying to help do their best to explain and rationalize with me.  This only makes me feel discounted and invalidated because my perception of the truth.  So I become frustrated and angry and begin to doubt everything about myself.

I don’t remember when the illness started.  My parents seem to think it was when I was quite small.  They feel like it just became worse as I became older.  They, of course, think this is their fault.  They blame themselves.  They want so badly for me to have my own life and for them to have their own.  They just feel so badly about my life; they feel like they still need to take care of me.  They don’t know how.  Of course, in the river times I have been so very cruel to them.  My brother won’t even talk to me.  He just doesn’t seem to care anymore.  He’s angry because he believes I’ve messed up my life and mom and dad’s life.  I don’t really have friends.  I don’t trust others easily.  I seem to want to adopt the professionals as my family and friends.  I know that’s because they think they can help.

The doctors try to help with medications.  Actually, nothing really ever works for me.  When the river is quiet I don’t look as if I need medication.  When the floodgate’s closed and the river’s trying to get out, the doctor medicates my anxiety with an anti-anxiety medication.  After I’ve released the river I become depressed so I get an antidepressant.  Since the river comes and goes on its own, and I go up and down with it, doctors think I am bipolar, so I get lithium.

I believe what I have found to be the most helpful with my illness has been to find some professionals who understand that the river is going to rage.  They know I can’t do anything about it, and they know they can’t do anything about it.  They understand that I act the way I do because I need relief so badly.  They understand that I call and try to keep them on the phone forever because in the midst of the raging river my thoughts become distorted and I once again believe someone can relieve the pain of the river.  They know that during that phone call if I become afraid that they just don’t want to help me (my thoughts being distorted again) I’m going to talk about cutting or killing myself.  They understand that I will say or do just about anything to relieve the pain.

My relationships with professionals are pretty amazing. (I can say that now since the river is quiet.)  See, when the floodgates open and I’m spewing all over them, as with all my relationships, I say cruel, hurtful things.  I think this is hard for them because they feel they are not supposed to let clients hurt them.  But I do.  Partially it hurts so much because I build some professionals up.  See, when my perception is distorted, I say they are the best therapists I’ve ever had.  Then when the floodgate is closed and I’m again trying to get someone to relieve my pain, I call and of course, they can’t relieve it, but I just want to make the professionals like me.  So I tell them and I believe others can relieve my pain, I call and of course, they can’t relieve it, but I get so disappointed and angry and think that they just don’t want to help, I tell them they are the worse therapists in the whole world, and I’m worse now than I was before I started seeing them.  Then I add the name of another professional that is “better than they are.” (STEPPS, 2013)

I don’t work well with professionals who set limits on themselves.  Who know what they can and cannot do for me and relentlessly remind me that it’s an illness.  What professionals can do for me is to teach me tools to handle my life during the quiet river times.  They can also teach me tools to prepare before the river rages and after the flood.  They can help me to prepare for the least amount of destruction possible.  The can help me find some balance in the everyday parts of my life.  They can show me how to develop a support system outside of the professionals; to meet others who have this illness.  They can give me hope.  Not hope that illness will ever go away, and not hope that they can make me feel better, but hope that with practice I can manage the symptoms of my illness.”

http://youtu.be/3jNlIGDRkvQ

When faced with an Emotional Storm:  A reaction is to freeze.  If no action is taken, you will get sucked up in the storm.  Brace yourself.  Do this by changing positions.  If you are sitting, stand up; if standing sit down.  Practice breathing deep breaths for 10 minutes.  Take a walk and empty your mind.  Pray.  Go to a safe place in your mind.  (S.T.E.P.P.S for BPD)  STEppsforbpd.com/

I AM REBORN! I felt dead inside and alone. I found precious HOPE.

 

Do you know what Hope is?

It’s magic and it’s free.

It’s not in a prescription.

It’s not in an IV.

It punctuates our laughter.

It sparkles in our tears.

It simmers under sorrows.

And dissipates our fears.

 

Do you know what Hope is?

It’s reaching past today.

It’s dreaming of tomorrow.

It’s trying a new way.

It’s pushing past impossible.

It’s pounding on the door.

It’s questioning the Answer.

It’s always seeking more.

It rumors of a break.

It whispers of a cure.

A roller coaster ride.

Of remedies, unsure.

 

 

Do you know what Hope is?

It’s candy for the soul.

It’s perfume of the spirit,

To share it,

Makes you Whole.

~Author Unknown

Chapter 1

It was a difficult time for me.  I never realized I was a perfectionist.  It was 1995 and I was at college, the University of Northern Iowa at that.  I had risen to success in my first professional position since graduating Iowa State University in 1991.  In four years I had believed I had managed to leap buildings in a single bound.  Before I fell, I needed in my opinion a new avenue.  I thought I needed a way to escape inevitable censure – or so I thought.   In my own mind I feared I’d make a mistake or maybe the first four years was just luck.  I began to create demons in my own mind.  I was feeling as a psychologist at a facility for adults with disabilities, I exceeded expectations and received a top level promotion after a month of entry level work.  But I was losing steam and ambition for the job.  I couldn’t explain the false sense of highs and lows.  Was there something wrong with me or others?  Was I being compared to others?  Was I good enough?

 I found an escape and ran with it.  In a short time and without real reason I was determined to start over. I was beginning a pattern of instability in jobs.  I was unaware of my streak until much older and new jobs every three years at most and sometimes after a single month.  But I always believed my future was right around the corner.  My success was outside of me.  I was plagued by feelings of inevitable doom.  I had to stay ahead of the punch.

In 1995, I started one semester of elementary education while working at the facility.  One semester of part time classes that encouraged my growing ambition.  I was getting straight A’s.  How could I go wrong?  I was not partying for the first time in my life.  There was no more alcohol for the time being.  I was ready for the new challenge.

It was working!  I was in a state of undeniable strength, wisdom, and determination!  I was the world; I was invincible!   I took on two jobs while going to school full time.  I was a commander in the Army Reserves and dedicated a lot of unpaid time to insure the training was right and perfect.  I worked at a quality restaurant as a hostess nearly every weekend and some week nights.  I worked part time hours at an adult facility. I was maintaining a full schedule - 22 credits - an A in every class. I was on top of the world with an abundance of energy.

The energy had begun to take a turn in my fall semester of 1996.  It was my last semester before starting student teaching.  I started to drink again.  I went from a directed immense high to a reckless high.  I was losing control of all performance in all areas of my life.  I wasn’t sleeping.  I was out of control and when threatened by my first B I crashed and fell into depression.  My anxiety was high.  I became my own worst enemy!  I had had it!  I sat on my bed with a gun trained to my heart.  My brother had successfully done the deed three years previously. Wasn’t it the solution to grief and misery?  I was distracted by the phone and began to weep.   My brother Lee called.  It was like he awakened me from my desperation.  I was honest with him and he told me to seek help.  I did!

I went to the campus psychiatrist.  He dared to tell me I had fallen in a puddle and didn’t know how to get out.  I needed to take steps and go a different direction and be okay with getting a B if need be.  I couldn’t accept this.  I went to the medical doctor.  He asked if I ever experienced highs and lows.  I admitted I had.  He said I was sick with bipolar disorder.  He gave me a script for lithium and Trazadone.  I nearly felt better immediately.  I continued school much calmer.  I earned my A.  I went on to my student teaching with a false sense of cure.  I stopped the medication but started a crazy high again.  My mentor noticed my erratic behavior and nearly flunked me.  I went back and asked him to reconsider.  He gave me a second try and a B for effort.  Though this destroyed my perfect grades, I was still hirable.  I accepted that I graduated Suma Cum Laude.  I now accept – a key concept – both doctors had accurately hinted at two diagnoses.  I had Bipolar 1 and Borderline Personality Disorder.  One is recognized as medical and is treated with medication; the other is behavioral and requires facing facts and changing a life time of bad habits.  But at 26 I saw both “labels” as debilitating and presuming I was broken.  Nothing could be wrong with my brain or my mind!