Is There An Off Switch?

The mind, when it is sick, can be your worst enemy. Even during your recovery, the mind plays games with you. Unfortunately, there is no cure to mental illness and there will always be times you struggle, but it's how you handle the struggle that counts. I began a new battle with my mind and anxiety as soon as I found out I was going to have foot surgery. It started out with small concerns. Do I have vacation weeks to use? If not how, can we afford to have me out of work? Then the worries grew and became obsessive.

 

My mind went on an endless track of worry. What if I get sick and can't have surgery? What if I can't do the stairs at my home? I have a week's vacation and four days; what if we don't have enough money to pay bills? What if we can't make our mortgage? What if I can't pay for the pain medication? Who's going to help me while my husband is at work? What if I can't use the crutches? What if I fall and hurt myself more, then have to be hospitalized?

 

The worries grew bigger and bigger as the weeks narrowed until my surgery. My anxiety attacks increased, I struggled to sleep, and my muscles tensed. I found myself over the toilet several times.

 

Would I be able to handle the pain? Will I cause more physical problems by hopping around on crutches? Will I get sick, lose my vacation time, and wait longer for surgery? Will we go broke? Will we have enough money to eat?

 

I magnified my worries to the point that I made myself sick. They haunted me day and night. If I had a switch to turn them off, I would have used it, but instead I turned to my support system. My friend reminded me that I was making my surgery into a bigger deal then it was, and my husband had me think about the positive side to my surgery.

 

Once the surgery was over, I would no longer be suffering with the continuous pain I have dealt with for months. I could finally get rid of the air cast boot I've worn for almost four months. I could pay some bills ahead of time so when I got the four day vacation check we would be okay. By fighting my worries and reminding myself of the positive outcome of my surgery, I was able to relieve some of the worrying.

 

My surgery turned out not as bad as I first thought. I only had to use the crutches for a few days, the pain wasn't as bad, and I was able to pay some bills in advance so that we were fine financially. A friend came to town to help me out while my husband was at work and within a week I was able to start walking around home without a boot.

 

It's hard to see the positive when your worries take over, but by the help of my support system I was able to point them out and get through surgery without a major anxiety attack. In the end I now see all my worries were for nothing.

THE FIRE

After becoming a part of an abusive relationship with a man, I was hospitalized. During my hospitalization, I was diagnosed with another illness: Borderline Personality Disorder. Suddenly my life made sense. I was able to put a name to the intense feelings that ripped so destructively throughout me: Feelings of fear, anger, anxiety and hopelessness tore at me. I learned that my maddening rages were emotional episodes.

 

Borderline is a fire burning at the insides of my soul. It starts out small and grows as my emotions becomes like gasoline fueling it into an inferno. I tear apart the people I love, I scream, and I throw things and cry like a child having a temper-tantrum. Once the fire dies down, I look at the ashes of my life, and I apologize as guilt fills my body. I tear at my flesh to release my inner pain.

 

When the fire is blazing I put down the people I love the most, I misinterpret what people say and the only problems I can see are my own. The fire can last a few minutes or an entire day.

 

I develop an attachment to my friends and put them up on a pedestal. I begin to expect too much and overstep my boundaries. When a friend proves to be untrustworthy and untrue, I hold on to her fearing abandonment. This has led me to abusive relationships that ended badly. I sometimes push friends away, fearing I will be hurt.

 

My dear friend, Cheryl, named my illness “The Bad Bug Guy” and she is right. It is evil and bad in every sense of the word. One minute I can be fine, the next I'm irritable and cannot be touched. Then suddenly I'm in an emotional episode.

 

Giving my illness a name helped me separate my sickness from the person I am. I learned Borderline did not define me as a person. I am a person just like anyone else afflicted with a sickness just like cancer.

 

With the help of my therapist and medication, I have taken control of my Borderline Personality Disorder. I sometimes struggle with symptoms of my illness, but I am able to handle them with the help of my husband, friends, and therapist. Mental illness never completely goes away, but I can stand tall knowing it does not control me, but I am now in control. Recovery is hard to reach, and it is a struggle, but it is possible.

 

I may miss a week or two of blogs due to surgery.

SUPPORT SYSTEM

Often, during my illness, I felt alone. I thought if I told people what was happening within me, they would think I was crazy or they wouldn't understand. I felt as if my illness was a burden I had to carry on my own. I figured if I told my parents or friends, then they would turn away from me. So I put on a smile and acted as if nothing was wrong when I was dying inside.

 

It wasn't until I could no longer hold the pain within me I told my mother I was sick. Instead of turning away, she went out of her way to find me help. I realized internalizing my pain only caused me more pain. When I turned to my Mom, a big burden was lifted off my shoulders. I was no longer alone.

 

In later years, when I fell back into darkness, I found a good friend to lean on. When I sat alone at night contemplating taking my life, I called her up. She talked to me for hours until she had me laughing. I could call her any time, day or night. She had a way of talking me out of hurting myself or doing something I would regret. When I was really upset, she knew how to calm me down. She was the voice of reason when I could not think of any way out of my inner hell.

 

After she moved away, I turned to friends at work. Some did not understand, but I found a few who were willing to listen and give support and advice. These friends helped me through some trying times. Just knowing I had people who cared, gave me hope. Having others to support me gave me a reason to fight to reach recovery.

 

Building a support system can be difficult. I'm lucky to have understanding parents and friends. I know some people do not have these. Trusting a friend enough to tell her them about your illness is hard. It was hard for me. I thought people would reject me and a few friends did, but the true friends stood beside me.

 

I found my support system within my family, friends, and people I work with. Look around you. Who do you feel the closest to, who seems to always listen when you have a problem, and who do you trust the most? Support groups can also be supportive. I was in a support group for self-injury and became close friends with one of the members. Going to a support group gave me a chance to talk to others who are going through the same thing.

 

My support system was an essential part of my road to recovery and continues to be important to me as I fight to stay in the light.