Reality

This is my daily reality. My beautiful girl child has Borderline Personality Disorder. This is what it looks like.

Self harm and this was a mild one

It’s 2020. People dealing with mental health issues are not getting the proper help. I can’t help my own child. It is devastating. It is sad. It is scary.

deja vu

It’s here again, the cycle. My girls never ending cycle of ups and downs, love and hate, happy and sad, but never safe.

Last week, drippy dick had a court appearance of some kind for the charges that were filed against him. As a reminder, after drippy beat my daughter he decided to drive her home out of the kindness of his heart. On the way they continued to verbally fight with each other and he stopped at a Burger King and told her to get out of his car. She got her shit out of the car and went into the restaurant. He ends up threatening the manager and stated something to the effect that he had a gun and is going to come back and shoot the place up. Threats continue to the manager and my girl, and she gets back in his car to stop the scene. Drippy was charged with Terroristic Threats, a felony 3 and Harassment, a misdemeanor 2. COVID-19 slowed everything court related until last week.

Last Tuesday my girl sent me a message that she had to go to court on Wednesday. I was confused because she was not subpoenaed. She said she had to be there to support him. Right.

She didn’t come home until Thursday evening and was very quiet. I knew questioning her would set her off so I decided to text her….I am the green box and please excuse the mistakes, I was not in the best frame of mind.

So, basically she is going to go and support the person who beat her prior to this incident. Will she be called to testify? I have no clue. Will she lie if she is called? Yes.

She has now missed two therapy appointments in a row. For some reason the missed appointment calls come to my cell phone. The appointments (which are still being handled over the phone) are scheduled for every Wednesday. I asked her the last two weeks how the appointments went and she said fine. Here comes the cycle.

Today, just about an hour ago, I am at work and I get a Facebook message…..I am pink, my girl has her face…

I leave work, drive home not knowing what will be waiting for me. He has access to her facebook messenger, again. Is it for real? Is he being an asshole? I have no way of knowing. My mind is crazy with thoughts of what I will find when I get home, will she be willing to get help this time, so many thoughts. She is in her room, tear stained face. She tells me she is fine. I ask to see her arms, she won’t show me. I ask what’s going on. She answers nothing. I ask again about her arms. She won’t show me. This back and forth goes on for about 10 minutes. She tells me to go back to work. She just stares at her laptop screen and pretends she is watching Netflix. I eventually walk out.

I am constantly worried. I worry constantly. I stress constantly. I think I can handle it. I think I can handle everything. I think I can be Wonder Woman. I pacify myself with food. Food makes it better. Food fixes everything. Food takes the pain away. I harm myself with food, my girl harms herself with razors and scissors.

There will be another bomb exploding soon. The bombs are coming closer together. Her bombs create craters that I am constantly stuck in. She’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine.

Another jumbled mess – my apologies

Is it just me or does anyone else feel like the shower is the best place for thinking? Each morning when I am in standing in the beautifully hot water my mind becomes awakened. Thoughts and ideas are plentiful and I can’t wait to get to work to make notes and then write an amazing post that will draw in hundreds of readers and followers. In the shower I know it will epic and potent and raw and real. I KNOW IT!

Then I walk into work and the life force gets sucked out of me. I convince myself that my thoughts aren’t epic, my ideas aren’t potent and that the only raw and real part of my daily life is the feeling of – eh. I hate it. I despise it.

Someone asked me recently what is happening with the girl child. Well, nothing. She is working, which is good. She is doing phone therapy, which is bad. I know, after all the posts about needing therapy and I say it’s now bad. Let me explain. She was accepted into a DBT program – AWESOME! It includes individual and group therapies – AWESOME! She had two individual therapy sessions and was waiting for the group sessions to start; and then COVID-19 hit. Everything was cancelled, individual therapy became phone therapy. I ask how it’s going, she say’s fine. At one point she said she doesn’t know why she is bothering because the phone therapy is awful, she is getting nothing out of it, she needs the one on one. She is ready to give up on it completely. She knows if she does give up on it, there will be consequences.

Is she still seeing drippy dick? I don’t know. About a month ago she posted a picture of them with the caption “you and me against the world”. Wow, did that piss me off. Where has he been in the process of helping her get well? How is the person that beat you going to help you? Seriously, WTF? My girl is home more now than she had been in the last 5 months. Probably 3 times a week she leaves to stay over at a friends house. No, I’m not an idiot. Is she going to him? Probably, most likely, yes. Here is the part I hate to admit. When she is home, it is uncomfortable. She feels, we feel it. We are waiting for the next “thing” that sets her off and choose our words carefully – if we speak at all, and she is waiting for us to ask about drippy, which would cause the next episode. I don’t like being uncomfortable in my house. When she is in her room for hours on end, I feel guilty. Is she in her room because she wants to be or because she feels just as uncomfortable as we do? UGH. When she isn’t home, of course I worry, but it’s different some how. At the end of the day, it’s still emotionally draining and exhausting.

I did have my first therapy session. I found a psychologist that I felt comfortable with and felt I could be me. I found the doc through a friend/co-worker and was able to chat with the doc prior to my first appointment. It was nice because at the first official appointment we didn’t have to spend the entire hour on the background of my girl and what was happening. At the beginning of the appointment I was asked what I’m hoping to gain from therapy. Good question. I said I needed help dealing, I needed ideas to help me help her. We went through what we have done to help her so far, how we deal with her episodes, blah, blah, blah. At the end the doc looked at me and said, “You are doing all you can do. I don’t know what else I can tell you to do or try.” The doc had one suggestion to try to get my girl into a group home for mentally unstable people. Ummmm, no. I know what goes on in those places, especially homes that are run by the local county or state. Nope, not happening. No way in hell. So, I guess we wait. We wait for therapy to begin again, we wait for group therapy to begin and help her learn the life skills she needs. I’m tired of waiting.

I wanted to write about music

I wanted to write about sex

I wanted to write about dreaming

Maybe next time.

blah (or this could be titled me #2)

Blah – pretty much explains how I am currently feeling with life itself. I imagine lots of people are feeling this way. Life as we know it has been changed. Will it be an indefinite change? We don’t know. I’m not sure if it’s the current “mood” of the virus situation or it’s just me being me, but I have definitely been doing quite a bit of thinking. Some days that is good, some days that is bad.

I have finally accepted that my daily work is doing nothing for my personal self. I am not being enhanced or enriched. I am not challenging myself, I am not learning new things. I am being paid too much to do what I do. I am not giving back, I am not making a difference. I will never move up the ladder because there is no ladder and if there was a ladder I would be trying desperately not to fall off the bottom rung into a big pile of shit. Technology changes and other upgrades have basically made my job obsolete. That’s a hard fact to swallow. It makes me sad and depressed to think I have wasted 30 years of my life. Things have happened in my work place over the last 30 years that have changed me, deeply changed me. I never truly admitted how much they affected me until recently. That pisses me off. I allowed these events to make me feel worthless and hopeless. I allowed them to change me and my view of myself. I still don’t know what I need to do to change that. I don’t know if I have the courage, strength and resolve to fight for myself and what is right. I do know that before I can move forward, I have to figure this out. I’m just not sure how to do that.

My husband, my love, my everything. I can’t explain the feeling watching him interact with our grand-baby. It is beautiful. He is so completely in love with our little bug. I can’t wait for October when our next grand-baby joins the family. Unfortunately, I feel like I am pushing my love away and I don’t want to do that. Without him I would be lost. He grounds me, he makes me whole. I have once again retreated into my shell. I know when this is happening, and I just can’t stop myself. I hate it. I think about him more than he can imagine. I miss him more than I can describe. I miss us. He knows when it’s happening, he sees it and feels it. He does all he can to pull me back to him.

I think I have to stop now. This has made my mind tired and sad.

me

My girl was released last Monday (2/17). She was happy to be “out” and said it felt like she hadn’t been in the real world for months. Appointments for follow-up care were made through the facility. Today is her first appointment with a facility that provides the DBT treatment recommended for BPD. She will have two weeks of one-on-one therapy/counseling to assess if she is serious about therapy and learning new skills. If it is deemed she is not serious, we are back to square one. If she decides she doesn’t want to be in treatment, she is back to square one. At this point I have no clue if she will go to this first appointment or not. If she doesn’t, I don’t know what is next.

Her first night home she came to me later in the evening and asked if she could go to a friends house for the night that lives in our town. She doesn’t have to ask my permission, she is 19 years old. I asked all the questions, who, why, where, etc. She told me she was worried about being alone all day the following day and having nothing to keep her mind busy. So, she left for the night.

What pissed me off the most was the following day, she never bothers to contact me until late in the afternoon. But, I get over it (again). She was home Tuesday by early evening. Wednesday, she left for a friend that lives in the same town that drippy lives in. Now, supposedly this friend despises drippy and is very against my girl being involved with him. I tell her all my concerns and apprehensions. But she goes. She returns home Friday early afternoon. I had limited contact with her Wednesday – Friday, but did ask about drippy and if she was going to be seeing him. I was told she did not yet know what she was going to do, but if she did decide to see him her friend would be there so she was safe (picture me modding my head with a very disgusted look on my face). At some point Friday I asked her if she saw/talked to drippy. She said she talked to him on the phone. Later that evening I notice a mark on my girls neck. How I remained calm I do not know. It was a hickey. I called her out on it, to which she replied she only saw him for a few minutes…………at that point I could actually feel the tiny amount of hope I was holding onto seep from my body. I was a pile of sludge on the floor, no bones, no feelings – just sludge. I sent my girl a text late Friday night when I was tossing and turning. I just realized I deleted it, but basically said something like – He is claiming you by marking you with a hickey. He is showing us he is back in control. Dad and I don’t want to control you, we want to help you on your path to recovery.” I got no response.

This is now the me part. This may contain little bits of information about my past and my emotional hang-ups.

I haven’t slept an entire night for a long time. Since seeing the hickey on Friday, I feel more defeated than I have in a very long time. I tend to be a natural born caregiver. Growing up (and no I’m not complaining, just stating facts) I had to be the adult at times. At times I take on more than I should, but I want to be able to do it all for the people I love and care about. But, I also wish during times like these that the people around me understood how incredibly hard and draining this situation with my girl is. There are nights where I want to go to bed at 6PM and honestly I need to. I’m not good at raising my white flag and admitting I feel defeated. Right now I feel so completely selfish and I HATE THAT. I hate that I feel like I am sabotaging my health and other personal relationships to keep my girl safe. I don’t want to resent my girl and her mental health issues. I guess I wish more of the people around me understood that. I wish they could see me silently screaming from the inside. But I try to smile and keep up a fake front, so it’s really my flaw and issue to deal with.

I have a bay window in my dining room FILLED with glass balls, all different sizes, shapes and colors. I love that window. It makes me happy. I keep having a dream where all the balls start falling and breaking. It starts slowly and as I am running to the window to try and save them, they start falling faster and faster. I have no control or power to stop them from falling and breaking and I can never replace them. Of course I know what this means, I’m not a complete idiot.

As a society, there is so much information shoved down our throats about practicing self-care, putting yourself first. But is that really possible? To truly and honestly take care of myself, right now, the first thing I would need to do is quit my job. Why? Because five days a week, for nine hours a day I am surrounded by what my life is like at home with my girl. I may or may not have mentioned at one point that I work in a police department office. I’m currently in my 31st year. My hours at work are filled with reminders. The domestic calls. The little spats that after a few months turn into violent assaults. The mental health calls, people threatening suicide, attempting suicide, committing suicide. Every day it surrounds me – at home, and at work – all the time “it” is in my face and in my head. It’s too much and it’s overwhelming. What happens when I quit my job of 31 years and the salary and benefits that come with it stop? I create another stress. Money isn’t everything, but living in this world isn’t free. I need the health benefits. I don’t have a huge pension waiting for me when I can’t continue to work. I need to work or find a way to become independently wealthy. I don’t take tropical vacations, hell I don’t take vacations period. The leave time I have benefits not only me, but my family as well. I am permitted to use my time for family related issues. My girl currently being a family related issue that takes up quite a bit of my leave time. And of course the health benefits that help pay for all the various treatments, doctor appointments, and medications for my girl are invaluable at this time. So, what do I do?

I have not participated in any physical activity that is for my health in over a year. That is all on me and it makes me so fucking mad at myself. In December of 2011, I had gastric bypass surgery. At the time I was just a bit over the 300 pound mark. It was something that I did for me and it was a decision I have not regretted. It was hard, but I did it. At my lowest I was down to almost 140. But that was just not maintainable and I honestly did not like the way I looked. Yes, I could fit into a size I never was in before, but there is more to me than a size – right? I felt very comfortable with myself and my body around 170. I have exceeded that weight over the last 8 months.

One thing I found out about myself going through the gastric bypass journey, food is a comfort to me. It started as a kid. I’m not blaming anyone, that is just the way it was growing up. All emotions and feelings are wrapped around food, happiness, sadness, loss, pain – eat and it will be OK. I also grew up with a sister who always thin and beautiful. That is not her fault and I’m in no way blaming her for my issues, but my family had a way to constantly compare me to her – as far as our physical shape. Anyway, food has again become a comfort. I eat when I’m not hungry. I eat things I know I shouldn’t. I am the only one who can control what goes into my body and I’m failing myself.

As I fail myself in controlling my weight, I find myself revisiting the old feelings of body image issues. I already talked about one of my issues, that of constantly comparing myself to my sister. However, I know it goes deeper than that. Here is one of my dark little secrets.

I know it was a Saturday night in 1984, I was 14. I know it was a Saturday night because I was up late watching Saturday Night Live. If I close my eyes I can picture the living room. I can describe in detail where the sofa, TV, chairs, and plants were. I can see the pattern of the sofa and the color of the carpet. Anyway, a family friend stopped at the house. I was the only one awake, my mom was upstairs asleep and my sister was probably out with friends. I’m not sure exactly how the person became a family friend, but he was around quite a bit. He was 21 or 22 at the time. That would be 7 or 8 years older than me. I assume the door to the house was unlocked because my sister wasn’t home yet. At the time I don’t remember it seeming odd that he stopped by the house that late. Now, I find it very odd. This was someone I always felt very comfortable with. Never got a creepy vibe. Probably considered him like an older brother or uncle type person. I knew at that time that he had a thing for my sister, but she was in no way interested in him. Back to the story. I was laying down on the sofa watching SNL. He came in and sat down on the sofa, closest to my head (I was laying on my stomach). For a little while we just watched TV. At some point his arm/hand end up on my back area. And then he decided to show me his penis and what a penis does. While he is jerking off right in front of my face, his hand works down my back to my ass and under my PJ’s and he starts touching me in places he should never have touched. When he was “finished” he left. Why didn’t I jump up and scream, why did I let it happen, why didn’t I tell my mom? I was scared, I was confused, I was hurt.

Guess what the one thing my 14 year old brain took from that incident? I didn’t need to be skinny or beautiful to get attention. I found out I had other “things” that boys wanted and it didn’t matter if my “things” were covered in a layer or two of fat. This made the 14 year old feel wanted, needed and comforted. Fortunately, my soul mate came into my life a few years later and showed me he could love me for me and not my “things”. There are times I still struggle with body image. I think I felt more comfortable being naked at 300 pounds with my husband than I do now. But he knows that and loves me anyway.

I feel like I am now totally off topic! Sorry about that. I think the purpose of this post is just to give whoever is reading this a little background on me and how all that happens in our lives effects us forever and shapes us mentally, emotionally and physically. So while I face my everyday stresses and struggles, I tend to revert back to old practices of comfort. I am trying change. I will continue to try for all the people I love and care about. I need to be the best me I can be. I owe myself that.

Tough Love Sucks

December 30th was our worst tough love day. We have been struggling with when we needed to make some changes regarding the relationship with our girl and setting boundaries. There was a letter written to send to her. It would be impossible to talk to her in person because of her quick fire responses. It touched on the car and the fact it needed to be returned to us, unless she was able to put it in her name and pay insurance. She needs to find a home for, or take her cat. She needs to respect our home and clean the trash out of her room and the bathroom. And the last thing, our home would not be used as her dumping point. She needed to decide where she was going to be living. The letter reassured her that we love her, want and need her in our lives and when she is ready to get help we will be behind her.

The letter never was sent. We were going to send it the week after Thanksgiving. The day we were going to send it she had a huge breakdown. It wasn’t a good day for her or us. Later that week she had another huge fight with drippy dick and called in crisis mode. We decided to wait until after Christmas, probably because we were terrified what would happen after we gave it to her.

Christmas was……………awkward. Her being in the house is awkward at this point. I don’t know what to talk to her about. What do I ask her? I don’t know what her day to day life consists of. I don’t know where she is or what she does. Christmas Eve she was with us and hung out us th some special friends. Christmas morning she woke up early and left to spend time with drippy dick and his family before our family came to our house. I was actually surprised she came home in time and was in a good mood. The day wasn’t awful, but we (my husband and I) could sense the un-comfortableness that happened at times.

The day after Christmas, towards evening, we could tell she was getting ready to leave. As we were talking she said “we will be back tomorrow.” I asked what she meant. She told me that he (drippy dick) had presents for us. I’m fairly certain my head spun in circles and my response was to say “no, that’s not happening.” She got defensive and nasty saying he did it because he isn’t a dick and left the house saying she would tell him to return everything. As she was driving she was messaging me via Facebook Messenger. More about drippy and the presents. I tried to explain I didn’t understand the present thing. She kept insisting that he was trying to be nice and fix things. I responded that it’s a conversation we need to have in person. Within probably five minutes after the messenger exchange with my girl, I get a Facebook message from drippy dick. This is what I received…

“At this point I couldn’t give 2 hoots that you don’t like me, and you have all this resentment towards me. You have expressed nothing but dislike and hatred towards me when all I’ve sought from you was expectance. I’m no angel I’m fully aware of that, but I am trying to mend a broken relationship between you both and myself especially heather and I. I purchased you gifts even though you both didn’t deserve it and I didn’t have to. Why because that’s the type of person I really am I don’t seek conflict I don’t want to have issues with the smith family. I wanted to show you that I want to take a step closer to you not apart, by looking for things you would like spending not only my money but precious time. I know you have a fondness for Star Wars and hot wheels Mr. Smith. I know you like The Wizard Of Oz and Woppers candy Mrs. Smith so I purchased you both something. I didn’t just spend time and money though I swallowed my pride and humbled myself to bring a ray of light into what we have going on as best as possible and it was denied? How can we ever learn to atleast agree to disagree when your acting like a child? Your daughter isn’t going anywhere, one day she will be my wife and bare my children. Your actions will be greatly considered when you are asking to see YOUR GRANDCHILD. I will NOT have a child around such nonsense barbaric negativity it’s a shame and pathetic! Merry Christmas to you both and a happy new year if you will even accept my verbal salutation of peace…”

Yes, drippy thinks of himself as quite the eloquent gentleman. For some reason this just cut through me. It really hit me hard. Not what he thinks of me, but what is my girl doing with someone like this. How doesn’t she see the pathetic person he is? I did not respond to his message. I wanted to, but he isn’t worth it.

I received texts from her shortly after getting the message from drippy asking me what it would take for her and I to get back to where we once were, should she leave him, etc. My responses were that I can’t make that decision for her, we love her and she has to decide what she wants out of life, etc. Now, remember, she started contacting me in messenger and then switched to texting me. Drippy messaged me probably 15 minutes into her drive. No one will convince me drippy doesn’t have access to her facebook and can see every message between us. However, he doesn’t yet have access to her text messages. She doesn’t want him to see her asking me about leaving him and wanting to repair our relationship.

Fast-forward to December 30th. My husband and I are at the store and I get a message from my girl that she will be home soon. While at the store our cameras alerted to motion in the driveway. I checked what was happening and see our girl is home. Oddly enough she is backed up our driveway. She never backs up the driveway. I immediately tell my husband and my prediction that something is wrong with her car and she parked that way hoping we wouldn’t see it. We got home, and sure enough the driver side front fender had a nice dent in it. As well as the passenger side having two nice scuffs. It looks like someone kicked the car. I would have to assume during one of the fights drippy kicked her car.

We walked in the house and she was in her room. I yelled up the steps and asked what happened to her car. Her response was a very assy “what are you talking about?”. This went back and forth a few times. She claimed she had no idea and why wouldn’t she tell us, etc…. However, she never went out and looked at her car….. Through the conversation she was told the car would be staying parked in our driveway. She walked away mumbling “fucking fantastic”.

The day continued, I had no idea she was going to be home and made arrangements for my middle son and his wife to eat dinner with us. We also had our granddaughter. I had no idea how my girl would be or even if she would come out of her room to eat and see her brother and niece. She did come out of her room and eat with us. After dinner she said she was going to take a shower. Our son and daughter-in-law left, and we were getting our granddaughter ready to take home. I get a message from my girl (yes, she was only upstairs) asking if she is allowed to go. I asked her to come downstairs and talk to us. She came down and I asked her what happened to the car, she still claimed she didn’t know. I told her the car stays here. She starts slamming around the house saying she’ll have drippy come and get her and just being mean in general. She decides she has to get out of the house and tells us she is going for a walk, along with some smart-ass comments about the car. I decide I will take the baby home and my husband stayed at our house as a just in case.

As I’m driving my baby home my middle son texts saying that my girl is messaging and calling them and she wants them to pick her up, etc. Mind you, both our sons live within about 2-3 minutes of our home. I drop baby off at her house and when I get home my son’s car is parked out front. Walk in and she my husband but no one else, and then I hear the yelling from upstairs. I walk up and my girl is wild, scary wild. She has garbage bags and is cleaning up the trash from the bathroom and her bedroom. Her brother is trying to talk to her, but at this point there is no talking to her. I have seen the rage and wildness before, but never to this extent. Her brother has never seen it. My girl was talking about killing herself and doing it right this time. I said if that is where she is at she needs to go to the hospital. She freaked and said if I ever do that to her again I will never see her. She continues in her rage. Making all sorts of comments about having to get out of the house and leaving. I asked her if there is anything in her car she needs and she tells me to fucking burn it all, she doesn’t care, etc. I said okay, then give me the keys. Now she completely exploded in rage. She threw the keys at my face, I ducked and the keys took a chunk of wood out of the door trim. My son pushed me out of the way and got in her face telling her not to touch me. She punched him in the chest and stormed out telling everyone to get the fuck away from her. My husband tried to stop her and she told him to fuck off and get the fuck away from her. She stormed out saying she would find someone to pick her up.

We all stood in the kitchen in amazement and disbelief, but knowing we did what we had to do. My girl came back in about five minutes later, all while talking to drippy on speaker phone, went to her room and came right back down and went back outside. We moved to the family room and she came back in and said she needs things from her car and needs her keys. My husband had taken them to the basement to hide them. When she saw him going to the she told us how pathetic we were by hiding her keys and some other nasty things, again all while drippy is on speaker phone. She got the keys, took stuff out of her car and threw them back in the door and told us to have a nice life. Someone picked her up and that was that.

She did TEXT me later that night.

It just saddens my how her brain works and how her thought process works or doesn’t work. I have to remind myself and others that her brain is messed up. It is not an excuse for her, it’s the truth. She is the only one that can decide she wants the help and then accept the help.

I don’t know when I will see her again or how she is doing. I haven’t gotten many messages from her at this point. I am worried and I am scared.

Monday morning and I’m still confused…

(SIGH) – It was a long weekend. I can’t believe I am saying that. Typically, the weekends fly by at lightning speed. As a bit of an update, my mom ended up back in the hospital in FL having emergency surgery, I believe that was Tuesday. When she was admitted for this time her intestines were close to bursting and she had to be cut open the old fashioned way. Laparoscopic surgery wasn’t an option. Scary shit. She still has the NG tube, which is still pumping out grossness. The epidural that was placed for surgery caused her right foot to become completely numb, making any type of walking an extreme hazard. No clue when she will be released from the hospital and then how long it will take her to feel strong enough for a flight to PA.

Visited my grandmother on Friday. She is hanging in there. I honestly can’t say enough about hospice and the care they provide. She is, of course, worried about my mom (her daughter). I have this awful feeling of guilt after visiting with her. She kept asking what the family is doing for Thanksgiving. I am the one who has been having the holidays at my house. I would be the one to have Thanksgiving. At this point I highly doubt my mom and step-dad will be home. My sister and brother-in-law are in FL for the winter. I still haven’t talked to my kids about what is happening with their in-laws. Oh, girl child did tell me a few weeks ago she has to work on Thanksgiving. My grandmother now gets morphine every 4 hours around the clock, is on oxygen (at a very high rate) 24/7, has to use a wheelchair to travel further than 4-5 feet or she is so out of breath it takes a very long time for her to recover. She feels I would be able to handle all of that and her wheelchair will fit through my standard household doors (head drops into my hands). I think she feels it will be the last time out of the nursing home. I get that, BUT………………..

Received a message from girl child early Friday asking what we were doing for dinner and would we be around Friday night. I replied I wasn’t sure yet, but we always get food. Friday is typically our eat out day. She said she would be home to eat and sleep and asked if I would help her dye her hair. I was looking forward to seeing her and pretending for just a little that things were “normal.” Sent her a message around 4:30PM asking when she would be home and got the response, “NVM, I’m sorry.” Followed by a message letting me know she might be home around 7PM to shower and I could save her food….my response to her was “will you ever be allowed to be here”. Her answer “I’ll be home for the night like 5:30 6ish for the night, probably.” I have been on the receiving side of many messages ending with “probably” from my girl. That means whatever she is talking about isn’t going to happen. So, we ordered from a local Italian shop. We had a few sandwiches and pizza. She walks in and asks what I got for her. Told her nothing since I had no idea if she was actually going to be home, but we ordered more than enough. Of course the attitude came out. No, no she wasn’t going to eat our food. OMFG. Whatever. She takes a shower, comes back downstairs and does eat our food. She starts doing some wash while we are just hanging out watching TV. I was honestly beat from the day and headed to bed to read. I fell asleep reading. Wake up the next morning and check the cameras. I love to see the cats that set the camera off every night. I was shocked to see my girl leaving the house around 9:30 PM. WOW. It just cut me to my core. Sent her a message saying I don’t think I will ever understand what is happening with her. No response.

I feel horrible for saying this, but at this point I wish she would just stay away or officially move out. Not this back and forth bullshit. It just tears me apart every time. I get to a point where I think I’m handling shit and then BOOM – she’s back and I’m hopeful. I think she is completely controlled by drippy dick. I think it is now a game. He wants us to tell her she has to go. He wants us to be the bad guys. He wants to be her savior. I’m closer to letting her go than I was a few months ago, but I’m just not there yet.

On a side note. The cat that she had to have a few years ago and we allowed her to have, pissed on my sofa. The cat isn’t getting the attention she deserves and she is not happy. This cat was her emotional support animal. She was attached to this cat in a way I can’t explain. When she left I told her she needs to make arrangements for the cat or take her. I have more than enough to take care of. I was told she was trying to find someone to take her. So, I found someone to take her. A very good home, someone I know would love and take care of her the way she deserves. Well holy hell, you would have thought I took the cat outback and shot it. I got such a guilt trip about how I’m not giving my girl time to get her stuff together, that cat means the world to her, if it wasn’t for the cat she would be dead, that cat is like a child to her. Well then, girl child, you abandoned your child to live with drippy dick and work for a shipping company. The cat is still in my house, but now has to stay in her room. Won’t be long until the room is destroyed. (SIGH)

Oh, I did something yesterday that I can’t believe I did! I have tattoos. Like a decent amount. Most visible tattoos are very small, two small wrist ones, small ankle ones, one on the back of my neck I hate and want to get removed. Anyway, point being I have never gotten anything sizable on an area that is highly visible. I did yesterday. Left inner forearm for my grandbaby. I love it. I am hoping I have the balls to continue as I would love to have a full sleeve on my left arm…….time will tell!

Some days I amaze myself

Today I am amazed at how fucking stupid I am. I feel like my world has been stuck in a tornado for the last year. Occasionally, I get to experience the eye of the storm and feel a bit of calm; mostly it’s just the wind spinning me in circles.

When I woke up this morning I made a promise to myself to be stronger, put the girl child out of my mind and get some shit accomplished. I made a list. Not a long list, but still a list. There were five items on my list, I have crossed out three. I’m feeling accomplished. And then I amazed myself…

I had this fabulous idea to make a family calendar for Christmas presents. I would put everyone’s birthdays, anniversaries, special family moments, etc on the calendar. Each month would have family pictures of the person(s) who have birthdays that month to remind us of special times we have shared. I typically have to remind my “adult” kids of relatives birthdays, etc. So a calendar would be perfect – right? I decided to start saving pictures for the calendar. I told myself that I would get an early start, feel really great about what I accomplished and try to relieve some of that pre-Christmas stress.

The sadness hit like a fucking train. Pictures. My girl is in the pictures, so many of the pictures. Will I have more pictures to cherish with her or has that come to an end? Will I get to celebrate the holiday’s with her, her birthday, Mother’s Day? And again, I am caught up in the tornado. My emotions are everywhere. I am hurt, sad, angry, confused…….How fucking dumb am I not to realize before I started that my girl would be in the pictures?

I experienced my two sons leaving home and I did okay. Of course I was sad and missed them. But I was also very happy for them. They found the person that makes them happy and are starting their own families. It’s wonderful to sit back and watch them grow and feel proud about what they are accomplishing. I want to experience that with my girl. I want to be happy she left home and is finding her way, but the circumstances are so insanely different. How can I be happy she is living in a shit-hole city with a hood rat? I want to respect and accept her decision; I can’t. I am terrified for her life. I guess I’m just not there yet. Will I ever get there? I don’t know.

People suggest as parents we should go and talk to a professional about the situation. Okay, I totally agree with that. Tell me how to find one? The professionals that deal with BPD are few and far between, that I know for a fact. They don’t provide therapy for only relatives of BPD patients; they provide therapy for families, which would includes the BPD patient. Our BPD patient has refused therapy. I have talked to other therapists/psychologists for recommendations. No one feels comfortable giving me recommendations because BPD is so……………what word can I use….intricate? Each person BPD patient has some similarities, but also has their own way of thinking/dealing. That is why therapy for families is suggested, but the BPD patient is a crucial element in that therapy.

I HATE FEELING THIS WAY.

I am lost

My rock

It has now been a little over two weeks since my girl has been home. She stopped home this weekend, after we were in bed. She took a shower, got more clothing and left. Our security cameras caught her coming and going. I am trying so hard to make each day a normal day. But I can’t. As I am planning my days, whether it is what to make for dinner, a trip to the store or dinner out with friends. My first thought is her. Will she like what I’m planning for dinner, does she need her lactose free milk, would she want to go along to eat or maybe we will bring something home for her. But she isn’t home anymore and I have not been able to wrap my brain around that. My thoughts are consumed with her.

I had some communication with her this weekend. She told me she got a job through an employment agency with a shipping company. She will work four, 10 hour days. She hasn’t worked longer than two weeks at a stretch as a part-time employee. She told me that she is very safe and doing really well. Her anxiety is basically gone and she is dealing with her anger issues. How did I interpret this? “Living at home with you and dad was my problem. I am fine now that I am away from you. I don’t need help with my BPD. I am normal now.” My fear is the time will come and the bubble will burst on her new wonderful life. The chaos that comes with BPD will rear it’s ugly head. I am scared when that starts to happen.

As we move through our daily lives pretending the world is a wonderful place, I would be lost without my rock. He is a man of few words. Where I am an extrovert, he is an introvert. We balance each other fairly well. Through this hell I have sobbed and slobbered on his shoulders, arms and pillow. He stood by my side when I needed a drink or 12 to help me forget. He loves his family fiercely and would stop at nothing to protect us. I would be lost without him. He is my husband, my lover, my very best friend and the love of my life. I would be a wreck without him. I hope that we can soon learn to live without constant fear and worry.

Diagnosis

Feels like an eternity since I actually sat down and put my thoughts and feelings into words. That’s not to say that I haven’t had some amazing ideas that I know my followers would love…….however, this is about my baby girl.

At some point over the last few months, seeing my girl continuing to struggle it was decided she should undergo testing to determine what is going on. We were fortunate that she agreed to the testing and fortunate to have a very experienced psychologist administer the tests. The tests were conducted over three days. They were a combination of IQ and cognitive tests, as well as anxiety, depression, ADHD, and personality tests.

On 9/30/19, we met with the doctor to find out what the testing showed. I’m honestly not sure what I expected, but I didn’t expect to be told my girl has Borderline Personality Disorder. As the doctor began to explain what BPD is and what the key factors in this disorder are; it was like she was explaining the lat 10 years of my daughters life. It’s not that only one or two factors sounded “right” – they all sounded “right”. As the doctor continued to explain the disorder, I could feel my girl silently sobbing beside me. I keep trying to imagine what she felt hearing the results.

The doctor recommended a very specific type of therapy called Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). And explained the reason all the other therapy and medications my girl has tried over the lat 10 years hasn’t worked is because the therapies were not specific to the disorder. The medications did nothing at all. This is a biological disorder.

We left the office with the name of a very well respected psychologist who is skilled in DBT. The psychologist isn’t taking new patients, but gave the name of another psychologist who also does DBT, who also isn’t taking new patients. But from that psychologist we received the name of two other psychologists, neither of which treat BPD. Within a few days I had a list of doctors/groups that I called with no luck. Either new patients were not being accepted or they did not treat BPD patients. I reached out to the psychologist who did the testing. How can we have a 30 minute meeting advising our daughter of this diagnosis and be sent away with nothing to really help her? The testing doctor then provided the name of a group that treats BPD patients. It has to be to good to be true, right? Right. The group is a two hour drive, one way. I still called, explained the situation to the intake person. She took all the information and called me back with an appointment time the following week.

I drove my daughter to the appointment. Yes, she is 19. Yes, she is considered to be an adult. But I really don’t give a shit because the last 10 years has sucked and she will always know that I will be supportive of her. She met with the psychologist alone first and then toward the end of the appointment I was called in so I could hear the recommended treatment. I could tell as soon as I entered the room that my girl was comfortable with this therapist. She was asking questions, talking and seemed more at ease. Th treatment would be two days a week. One day is a two hour session that is basically like a classroom setting to learn new skills and coping mechanisms. The other day is a one hour private therapy session. Included with the treatment is phone check-ins with the therapist. The therapist was concerned because of the distance between our home and the facility. It is also a huge concern of mine. Yes, my daughter can drive. But after a two hour drive to get to the facility, a two hour session, and another two hour drive home – I just don’t feel good about it. She will be mentally exhausted after the therapy and I don’t think driving on highways and expressways would be a smart situation to put her in. I am still exploring a drive service and trying to figure out how that would be paid for……………

I asked the therapist if there were any other facilities closer to our home that have a similar type program for DBT. Nope. They are the only one in the state and actually have patients from nearby states due to the success of their treatment plan.

Seemed like things were finally falling into place. One little hurdle, my daughter has to agree to the treatment. She has to agree to go and commit to a year of intensive treatment. She hasn’t agreed to it. She is in denial. She is tired. She doesn’t know if she has anymore fight left in her. She doesn’t think her life is worth it. She doesn’t want to have to fight her brain every single day to try and live a normal life.

Borderline Personality Disorder is very hard to understand. I have been reading only things recommended by the therapists we have been dealing with. I feel the following is an extremely accurate explanation. I am probably going to be sued for using this – but you can’t get blood from a stone.

“Beneath the clinical nomenclature lies the anguish experienced by borderlines and their families and friends. For the borderline, much of life is a relentless emotional roller coaster with no apparent destination. For those living with, loving, or treating the borderline, the trip can seem just as wild, hopeless, and frustrating. Jennifer and millions of other borderlines are provoked to rage uncontrollably against the people they love most. They feel helpless and empty, with an identity splintered by severe emotional contradictions. Mood changes come swiftly, explosively, carrying the borderline from the heights of joy to the depths of depression. Filled with anger one hour, calm the next, he often has little inkling about why he was driven to such wrath. Afterward, the inability to understand the origins of the episode brings on more self-hate and depression. A borderline suffers a kind of “emotional hemophilia”; she lacks the clotting mechanism needed to moderate her spurts of feeling. Prick the delicate “skin” of a borderline and she will emotionally bleed to death. Sustained periods of contentment are foreign to the borderline. Chronic emptiness depletes him until he is forced to do anything to escape. In the grip of these lows, the borderline is prone to a myriad of impulsive, self-destructive acts—drug and alcohol binges, eating marathons, anorexic fasts, bulimic purges, gambling forays, shopping sprees, sexual promiscuity, and self-mutilation. He may attempt suicide, often not with the intent to die but to feel something, to confirm he is alive. “I hate the way I feel,” confesses one borderline. “When I think about suicide, it seems so tempting, so inviting. Sometimes it’s the only thing I relate to. It is difficult not to want to hurt myself. It’s like, if I hurt myself, the fear and pain will go away.” Central to the borderline syndrome is the lack of a core sense of identity. When describing themselves, borderlines typically paint a confused or contradictory self-portrait, in contrast to other patients who generally have a much clearer sense of who they are. To overcome their indistinct and mostly negative self-image, borderlines, like actors, are constantly searching for “good roles,” complete “characters” they can use to fill their identity void. So they often adapt like chameleons to the environment, situation, or companions of the moment, much like the title character in Woody Allen’s film Zelig, who literally assumes the personality, identity, and appearance of people around him. The lure of ecstatic experiences, whether attained through sex, drugs, or other means, is sometimes overwhelming for the borderline. In ecstasy, he can return to a primal world where the self and the external world merge—a form of second infancy. During periods of intense loneliness and emptiness, the borderline will go on drug binges, bouts with alcohol, or sexual escapades (with one or several partners), sometimes lasting days at a time. It is as if when the struggle to find identity becomes intolerable, the solution is either to lose identity altogether or to achieve a semblance of self through pain or numbness.”

Kreisman MD, Jerold J.. I Hate You–Don’t Leave Me (pp. 11-13). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.