Sunday was a bad day. From one comment in a morning conversation, a million hurts took flight. As time passed, instead of passing they grew to block out the sky, like sinister black crows in a Hitchcock film. A few hours later it felt like the whole world was having a joke at my expense. Black flowers blossomed in the hothouse of my mind, staining my brain with their blooms like cryptic Rorschach blots. Hello BPD my old friend.
Today my eyes are like pissholes in the snow (I’ve been waiting a long time to put that description somewhere, maybe things are looking up). I couldn’t sleep last night, I was still coming down. It takes a while for that kind of emotional cliff-edge to recede. I lay there and remembered how I tell people I’m making the most of S’s last year before she starts school and thought “Who the hell are you fooling?” I could be doing so much more.
So this morning, after dropping J & T at school, S and I headed over to Tim Hortons for a coffee and a box of Timbits then set out for the beach. I needed to heal and the lake is my linctus. It’s grey and gusty here today. Any leaves that still clung to branches last week are gone now. I don’t know about you but nothing makes me feel alive like the wind tugging at clothes and hair, whipping them this way and that in the same way men slap hysterical women in the movies to bring them back to their senses. See? Even the wind’s in on it.
Down by the water there were foamy breakers rolling in, their roar helped to drown out the murmurs in my mind. Away in the distance rays of sunlight tore through the clouds. That was why I came – to see Hope breaking through.
Together S and I pretended to catch fish, drew pictures in the sand then, seeing as we had a near empty carrier bag and time to spare, we wandered the length of the beach collecting rubbish. WIth chilled hands but warmed hearts we put it in the bin on our way back. Walking home I felt like I’d had a transfusion of my old self, I feel the BPD draining from my veins. I’m tired. I could sleep for a million years.
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If you want to know more about Borderline Personality Disorder, here are a few other posts I’ve written:
Author’s note, June 2014: Since the time of writing I’ve been re-diagnosed with Aspergers and Bipolar II. I no longer meet the criteria for BPD and given the existing cases of Aspergers and bipolar in my direct family I have to admit this re-diagnosis seems a more accurate explanation for my symptoms. Oh, the beauty of hindsight…