Trapped Between the Devil's Tail and Horns

  Today is a day like any other... or at least a day like any other in the last 7 weeks. I wish I could say I knew the reason for this awful and drastic change, but I haven't the slightest clue.

  Starting around the beginning of April, I had developed a less depressive mood, I was feeling better every day. One day, I woke up and felt different. After 3 days of being edgy and overly dramatic, I finally realized what on earth was happening. I was slipping into a manic episode. It lasted around 2 weeks and was gone just as quickly as it came, overnight. Over the last few weeks I have been on a slow decline... Falling lower and lower daily. I have stopped showering daily, I have stopped eating as much, I am unable to sleep at night and my hallucinations are worse than I can ever remember. To make matters worse, I cut myself. Badly. And I don't even recall doing it. That hasn't happened since after Christmas, and now its happening every 2-4 days... I couldn't recall spending hours at a friends' house, or going to the store. I can't recall getting home or how I got there.

 That's all for now. I'm sorry its disorganized, there's just so much going on.

Eternally stuck,
Maggie

The Life and Times of a Suicidal Maniac

   Time is one of the best and worst things about life. Time spent living in a moment, enjoying it, can be truly wonderful. Time spent in a worry-some state can be hell. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I come to you from this evening. Here I sit, alone in the dark, forcing myself not to do anything stupid. For those who may ask, yes, my boyfriend is home. He is asleep and I'll be damned if I wake him up for anything less than an emergency. No, I don't consider myself, nor my current state, an emergency.

   A few hours ago I started feeling very anxious, like my skin was too tight, like all the heat was trapped inside my body and I was suffocating. I went for a walk in the cold, 2 laps down, couldn't breathe for lack of an inhaler to control my asthma, I decided to call it quits. I soaked in the tub to relax the muscles around my ribs (per doctor's orders) and attempted to explain a little about my disorder and the way I feel to my significant other. He went to sleep and here I sit. Typing this blog post to keep my idle hands busy. 

   Before I started this post, I was contemplating how easy it would be to cut myself right now. He'd never really have to know I'd done anything, but alas I know I'd end up regretting the decision to self-harm in a few days, once I felt better. I also, for the second time today, considered chopping all my hair off. Drastic change might help shock me into realizing this is my body, and not me experiencing someone else's life. And lastly and most concerning, I have considered suicide again. I read a blog post, which I will not be linking, that was based upon someone's recovery process and how they are now better coping with BPD. Sadly, all I seemed to focus on was that the symptoms never go away, and I don't want to live like that. My immediate reaction? "Well fuck this shit, it's not worth it. Why should I continuously burden all these innocent people in my life?" Now, hearing what I sounded like, I wonder how many other people with debilitating physical, emotional or mental illnesses have thought those exact words... and then followed through with it. The empathetic side of me is overwhelmed. 

Also, I'd like to note for my own personal record, that I could also tell something was up by the way I've reverted to thinking my stuffed animals have feelings. Yay inner child.

   So I'd like to briefly touch on something I explained to my boyfriend earlier, involving the "evolution" of my high's and low's. 

When I was around 13, I slowly developed my eating disorder, and for the sake of time I won't be delving into the birth of my self destructive habits, and I'll be only focusing on the timeline itself.

So, where was I? Oh yes. Thirteen. Previously I'd been pretty steady, I don't recall any periods of extreme high's or low's before the age of 13, but I know that I was doing well. For the sake of this I'm going to use a scale to better explain the ups and downs. So prior to 13 I would say my life was at a pretty constant 9. Not perfect, but I was maintaining my stress and life in general fairly well. At age 13, at the onset of my anorexic tendencies, my life dropped to a 6. Not terribly low, but not great either. It was a steady drop from age 13-16 and at 16 I dropped to a 4. It may not seem like much, but back then I thought I had hit rock bottom. So the cutting and carving commenced. I stayed here until late in the year that I turned 17. I came up a notch, to an 7,  I was doing a little better. I still had bad tendencies, I was still developing other bad habits; cue hair pulling, scratching, burning and ridiculous interpersonal relationships. I was stable until shortly after graduation. I'd been in my job a few months before I started being "counciled" for bad behaviors I had no memory of. I was having what I now refer to as "shut down black outs", where I have allowed the emotions to bottle for too long without any form of release and I shut down, lose all train of thought and sensibility and run my mouth like a previously prostituted nun in the convent. Then, I black out all memory of it ever happening. Lovely isn't it? No. It cost me my first real job, and hindered the most recent one severely. This isn't mentioning the toll its taken on my relationships with my family members, my friends and those I've been in relationships with. And now we come to the most recent "drop", I have dropped from 7 to a 3. My all time low. Though I'm not actively suicidal or actively self-harming, I'm still afraid for my life, every single day. I worry I'll give up, I worry I'll never get help, I worry I'll keep losing jobs and failing in life, I'm most worried that I'll lose my current boyfriend and be alone again because I've trusted him above everyone else I've ever allowed in my life, friends and family included.

Well I suppose that's all folks. I feel slightly less desperate now, and hopefully the boyfriend won't be asleep for too long. I'm kind of afraid to be alone.

Forever Fearful~

Maggie

Also, I forgot to add my current biggest fear. My boyfriend has noticed my mild cardiac arrhythmia and now I'm terrified. YAY STUPID FEARS!!!!

It's been one of those days. Chiropractor says my ribs, which I separated over 3 weeks ago now, will take awhile to heal. So twice a week adjustments are a must until further notice.
Today I put in an application at a local animal hospital, so everyone cross your fingers.

I'm going to keep this post short, because my brain is working too slowly for me to really feel much of anything today. But my anger is right on the surface, and my wishes to self harm are high.
Lizard comes home in a few days. Now I'm off to clean the room.

Love and Best Wishes-
Mags

Year 2014 

Day 8 

Mood: Hopeful? 

   Another day, another dollar. Thank God for babysitting. In two short hours with two great kids I've got some gas money to put in The Grimm Jeeper (see below) and slightly more lifted spirits. I've considered just waiting out the 3 months before re-applying at my old job, while taking side jobs to keep money in the bank. The jury is still out on whether or not this is even feasible.

  So despite all the dark and dreary, I have some suuuuuper exciting news to share with you all today!
By the first of next week I will be the proud owner of a Bearded Dragon. He is approximately 4 years old, sweet as can be and very soon will be in my apartment for me to love on all the time. He was in need of a new home and I was in need of a companion for when my boyfriend is at work, practically a match made in heaven. I feel like this will help me get out of the slump I'm in, or at least give me a reason to smile every day. Having something to care for has always been an "anti-depressant' of sorts for me. Saturday I'm suppose to go to Repticon with some friends, to pick up supplies for the new baby. I'll most likely do a post about everything I buy.

   I feel good today. I put on my favorite Harley Quinn shirt, my new black pants, my pink fuzzy socks and did my makeup before going to babysit. I ate a half order of spicy chicken caesar salad and have maintained a pretty decent mood all day. Now of course, Avenged Sevenfold and Breaking Benjamin, writing this update and playing my favorite online game: HorseIsle.


Well my dears, that's all for now. I'll try to come up with something slightly less boring for the next post.
Forever a slave to my own mind,
Maggie








*The Grimm Jeeper is a registered trademark of NitroPowered Horsemanship, Obsidian Sky and No BS Welding. All rights reserved.*

So I just got called into work, at the job that supposedly had laid me off not 48 hours ago and immediately the front went up. No pain, no sadness, no wallowing in self-pity. Not exactly feeling anything either. Sigh. I hate my ability to just suck everything up and deal with my surrounding life.

Truly Trapped~
The Prisoner
Maggie

Escaping the Prison

Jan.  5, 2014

      It's been about a week since I became aware that I had hurt my back at work. Unfortunately, the pain has settled in quite severely and as it is not self-inflicted, it is not a very welcome feeling of discomfort. But that is not the reason I've begun this blog, nor the driving force behind this first post. It's been almost 2 hours since my significant other left for work and I came to the realization that I am stuck. I have not left the bed today but two times, I have only drank one-fourth of a carbonated soda, I have not eaten much in the past 3 days.

      I have just finished willing myself to get up and microwave a bowl of soup, pour a cup of water and use the restroom for the first time in 48 hours. It was not easy, the entire time I felt like I was going to pass out, or at least vomit. I've forced myself to take a few sips of water and am still trying to will myself to take a bite of the chicken noodle soup, so far, no progress has been made. I keep telling myself I've done good today, by taking a bath a few hours ago, while my significant other washed the sheets and cleaned the room.

     Here is where I feel I should include a few details about myself. My name is Maggie, and normally, I would only allow myself to post such bare and awful self-truths under an assumed name, but I have decided against it as it will not help me at all in my attempts of re-discovering myself and escaping the curse that has ridden me of all that I was, am, and should currently be. I have just turned 19 years old not even 24 hours ago and I fear that I have finally lost control of my life. For the past 6 years I have struggled with Borderline Personality Disorder, most of which time I've spent in a state of disassociation. This time, however, its much more severe than normal. 

    You see, I am generally the girl with a go-getter attitude. I love to clean, I enjoy cooking, video games, and above all, spending time with my animals and loved ones. However, I have been reduced to the girl who is usually balled up under the covers, refusing to talk or interact at all. Lashing out at the one she loves most, not wanting affection or to be noticed at all. I have not left this bed except for work in over 2 weeks. That's supposedly why my case is not "extreme", because I still contain the drive to go to work, to get out of bed. That my friends, is entirely false. I get up and I go to work simply because I know that I have to. It is an entirely automatic and primitive response. There is no thought, no emotion, no drive behind my actions. I know somewhere deep in my subconscious that if I do not get out of bed, shower and go to work, my life will be much harder because I will lack the funds I need for rent, food, and most importantly my therapy appointments. Sadly, I was let go from my job on Friday, as it was only a seasonal position and there were many factors that added up to that final meeting and a "we hope you'll re-apply in April...". Now I am faced with the challenges of willing myself to find a new job, and my will is slowly fading.

   I've eaten a quarter of the soup and had half the glass of water. I decided I should see if I can tolerate it before going all out. That's the awful thing about back pain, the nausea is very deceiving. Sometimes its just messing with you and other times... it means business. 

    I wanted to discuss a few of my known triggers and bad coping mechanisms in this post, just to allow whoever may find this blog to get a little better acquainted with my situation. So here goes nothing.

   From a very early age I was emotionally, physically and mentally hurt. The abuse came in many forms; sexual and verbal being the two most common, but there were some bouts of physical as well, and to this day, my inner child has not been able to cope with the memories of those traumatic events. At age 8, I began looking for answers on how to fix the problems that seemed to be recurrent in my life. By age 13, I began looking for the way out. I stopped eating. It started innocently, missing a meal, not having my midnight snack, then it escalated to going days without eating or drinking. At age 16 I weighed 92 pounds and I had found the most rewarding release yet, cutting. It eventually was the gateway to burning, hair-pulling, scratching, word-carving and many other self destructive tendencies I have become accustom to. This was also when my idealization of suicide was beginning to reveal itself and I had decided I would never live to see 18. Of course, I obviously did and when I did, and surpassed it, I began seeking recovery. It's been a really rough year, lots of ups and downs, lots of relationships that have started too strong and ended in a terrible mess. Now here I sit, in my boyfriend's room in the apartment, and I find myself scared, not to mention waiting for the end, knowing damn good and well it will end because of my lack of output in the sex department. You see, I've had a lot of titles; toy, slut, slave, submissive, but the truth is, I hate sex. I know its only because I've never truly connected with someone during it, but it makes it really hard to believe that I ever will.

I'm sick of feeling so distant, so out of my own body and mind. I'm sick of feeling lightheaded and disoriented, driving off the road because I lose track of my own reality. I'm sick of not feeling like myself, not having the ability to think and use my psychological knowledge, not being able to connect to people and animals. I'm tired of being angry and fidgety and not wanting to be touched. I know he's tired of sitting on the other side of the room all day. I'm tired of being sad and scared and always reaching out to the people I know I can count on the least because they give me a pull to who I was in the past. And what do I wish, you ask? I wish to feel better. I wish to be happy. I wish for someone to hear my cries and find a way to help me recover. I am terribly tired of being alone, but I know whenever I reach out, everyone disappears. Not to mention, right now I could be surrounded by a million people and I'd still feel like the only person that hasn't left the Matrix.

   I've been struggling a lot, not only with my poor eating habits as an anorexic, but also with the urges to cut and the suicidal idealizations. The soul purpose is to feel something. Anything at this point. I feel too far gone. The most detatched I've ever been and that terrifies me.

I've got to muster up the will to call my chiropractor and get my back looked at, I just pray it isn't as bad as it feels. The good news is, I've eaten the whole bowl of soup and I'm feeling a tiny bit less awful, now its just the realization of how numb my senses are, thank God I've grown accustom to this feeling and it no longer causes me to panic.

Until Next Time~

The Prisoner

Maggie