#my vents
Pros of weaning off some of my meds:
- Spending less money ✅
- Feeling Progress in Recovery ✅
Cons of weaning off some of my meds:
- It’s almost 5am I’ve been trying to sleep for 3 hours but one of my meds I’m no longer taking used to make me sleep in 30 minutes and it seems I’ll need to get used tl falling sleep without them ❌
I’ve been clean for almost two years but the fact that I hit 25 years of age and am still a virgin makes me feel an urge to cut myself again
So I haven’t counted the days I haven’t self-harmed because I don’t remember the last day I did it, but a couple weeks ago I found my blades rusted all over after several months without seeing them and now I’ve thrown them and my lighter away
Can anyone congratulate me pls
“These scars long have yearned for your tender caress”
My self-harmer ass:
I honestly just wish I could erase my existence from people’s minds
I hate remembering that people, like, have thoughts and opinions and judgements about me and/or my actions
Can they just
Like
Not
Tell me to “ask you” for your attention again. Tell me.
Offline “friends” are only disappointments after disappointments
So I’m reading a scientific paper about neurobiological developmental psychology of Borderline Personality Disorder and it talks about the Social Baseline Theory according to which we (as in every human, not just us with BPD) NEED other people for co-regulation of emotions and feelings because when someone must be completely self-reliant and can’t count on anyone else it overwhelms their brain regions related to emotional and interpersonal regulation and such depletion can be a risk factor for BPD, and the thing with non-BPD folk is that they know they can trust others and be safe with them and that by itself helps them regulate their emotions even when said others aren’t with them at the time
So honestly fuck each and every one who keeps preaching about how the only person we can trust is ourselves and how we’re supposed to be okay on our own and that wanting to be able to count on others is “needy”, “clingy”, “no one even has that”, as if pushing us into further interiorization and isolation is actually going to help instead of making things worse
This issue of Ms. Marvel fuck me up so much. It’s not just about me not being straight and having been afraid of being outed. It’s so much deeper than that. So much deeper than I could ever express. So much deeper that I only feel free to talk about it on a side-blog mental illness blog instead of on my main/fandom one.
This kind of support would’ve mattered so much to me when I was in the hellhole called middle school. If I hadn’t been so utterly alone in school as secrets of mine were outed and openly mocked by people I swear I could maybe not have ended up like I did. I swear I could maybe not having started cutting and burning myself. I swear I could maybe not have attempted suicide twice. I swear I could maybe have not developed a mood and personality disorder. Of course, everything was multi-determined, there were countless factors, but that doesn’t change the fact that I went through in school may have been by far the start of my downfall. Or maybe a major early accelerator of a slower downfall that was already happening, but not as completely vertical instead of diagonal as it then became. Whatever, it was a watershed in my life if a bad, bad, BAD way.
I wish so much I had had a Nakia in middle school. Or a Kamala Khan in middle school. Not because Kamala Khan is a badass superhero with powers, but because she could’ve given me a support I so surely and direly needed back then.
I wish compassion were normal.
Aleksander caressing Regina’s scars before saying with a smile that he loved her fucked me up
Can my friends *start* conversations with me
What do I have to do to be loved
What do I have to do to make my friends like me as more than “the amusing little childish kid” they like to hang out with sometimes
What do I have to do to make my ex-abuser hear me, to make anyone hear me
What do I have to do to make it acceptable for me to randomly message someone at a friday night and say I’m sad and lonely
What do I have to do for people be emotionally connected to me, to write me sentimental stuff about how much I mean to them
What do I have to do to get some love
That moment when I feel lonely af and I want to talk to someone about anything at all but getting to them and going like “hey i’m lonely can i talk to you” but then everybody has a billion things to do and I have no right to take away any time from them so I’ll just continue feeling lonely yay
I love when I feel agitated and accelerated and highly distractable with no actual surplus of energy just some weird agitation that hinders any productivity and make me barely able to pay attention and focus and can’t be converted to anything at all amd oh it also gets in the way of my sleep
Not to be whiny but the fact that I’m 23 years old and a virgin and the only one in my group of friends who have never had a romantic relationship fucks and no amount of “single power!!!!!!!!” is going to reduce that
Michael Jackson: In our darkest hour, in my deepest despair, will you still care? Will you be there? In my trials and my tribulations; through our doubts and frustrations; in my violence, in my turbulence; through my fear and my confessions; in my anguish and my pain; through my joy and my sorrow; in the promise of another tomorrow. I’ll never let you part, for you’re always in my heart.
My BPD ass:
I suppose you’re all wondering how my surgery went? Welp, it didn’t. The tl;dr is that they needed a special part that didn’t arrive in time and they’ve rescheduled me for September 22.
So like, basically they needed a special part for me because I’m a complicated case - it’s a replacement of a 1997 replacement and I have a femur rod in from breaking my femur years back and my original replacement was locked in there with cement, so it’s a complicated situation - & they had to order the special part, but like because of the holiday weekend, it didn’t arrive in time. But they thought it would, so I did the whole no food & drink thing, no pain pills, anxious mess, little sleep, showed up in my pajamas, waited curled up on 2 little chairs that were pushed together because I hurt too much to sit up, in a very cold waiting room, that’s like literally in a hallway, like their pre op waiting room is just a bunch of chairs in the main hallway, three hours before they called me back, where I then changed into a gown, started answering all their questions, had to use a Hoyer lift to get onto the bed because for some reason Ortho Surgery doesn’t have stretchers that drop low enough for wheelchair transfers even though they have all *Ortho* patients, which then the Hoyer lift caught my bad leg and the nurse had to twist it loose and it hurt so much and then another nurse came a minute later, and not having seen what had just happened, also grabbed my leg and started wrenching me around while the first nurse was like, “no, don’t do that!” but too late, and then the dr came and was like, “bad news” but the last time he said those words to me minutes before I was to be wheeled back to surgery it was to cancel so I was like, “WHAT WHY” and then I was like, “ok just go away then, I can’t even right now, I’m so hungry, tired, in pain,” and the nurse ran a off and came back with a big ol plastic bag filled with crackers, chips, pudding, applesauce, sodas like I had just robbed a vending machine. And I came home and ate and slept and cried and slept some more. And drank water, oh god so much delicious water. It’s the worst part about being NPO is the no water part. I’ve been rescheduled for September 22.
So I get to spend 2 more weeks in severe pain. And that’s like, Chronic Pain Sufferer’s *severe pain*, not just any ol pansy level of pain either, cuz my tolerance is high and I’m still over here whining like a pussy. I know they had me come in and everything because they thought it would arrive in the mail that day, but like, if they knew they had to order a special part, on a holiday weekend, like I don’t care how bad off my hip is that they felt they had to rush my surgery, they shoulda never tried to fit me in when they knew they had to special order a part on a holiday weekend. I can’t believe I have to go through all that pre op shit and the psychological prep in my head like all over again. If this is how the U of M - one of the top hospitals in the whole country, that people come from all over, from like other countries even, to have surgeries there - if this is how completely non-professional they act, what the fuck are other hospitals like?
Spoonie Problems: I feel like an ungrateful bitch when I complain about my caregivers, who are generally wonderful & family/friends doing it for free or for spit-pay from the government. My counselor always said I can be grateful & annoyed, that they aren’t mutually exclusive feelings…but I know if main caregiver heard me vent, they’d feel like it’s because they can’t do anything right, & they’d be hesitant about helping at all in the future with anything I don’t lay out specifically in detail for them bc ‘you get upset with me for trying to help sometimes’, & it would further their belief that I’m ‘always mad’ at them, which they told me once is how they feel. Like, I know they’re projecting their own issues, but when it’s a friend/family member, you have to maintain your familial relationship at the same time and Iike, that can be hard. Sometimes I think a professional caregiver would be better because then I could be firmer — not rude, but firmer — and not have to worry that’ll bring up issues because, like, oh their mom made them feel they were useless and me correcting them will trigger that. Because with a professional from an agency, I wouldn’t know about their mom or their triggers. But then I remember all the horror stories I’ve heard about caregivers and abuse, neglect, infantilism & ableism and like, I’m so grateful my caregivers all love & care about me. But still, sometimes I need to vent without being empathetic to their psychological upbringing. You know?
This post is brought to you by someone trying to help me with something I didn’t even ask for help with & then refusing to listen to what I’m saying the issue is & legit (non-violently) slapping my hand away multiple times when I point out the thing that’ll help them.
Watching this documentary short (taken from a longer documentary) about poor kids in Ohio during lockdown. This woman, with three kids, has been told by her doctors that she can’t work due to kidney disease. The state agrees enough to give her *some* benefits, but…she has to volunteer 80 hours a month to receive said benefits. If she’s too sick to work, then she’s too sick to volunteer 20 hours a week. I remember at the end of my “working life”, I finally realized it was time to turn in my papers when I couldn’t manage 18 hours a week. Ohio, wtf is this nonsense?! And in this documentary, it’s during the pandemic. The 13 year old subject of the film says how worried he is about his mom having to be out there volunteering because she’s so likely to catch Covid. I have to imagine a strong case of Covid could do damage to her already vulnerable kidneys. What utter bullshit our whole system is!
Here is the full documentary, an hour long, which I guess I’m gonna watch now so I can get even angrier at our system!
