*Always Learning*

 Just wanted to scribble some things out here about what’s been up since my last post. Oh, hello ;)

So.

As you may now already from my random videos and posts on Facebook during one of my many irrational periods (sigh) that I was diagnosed last month with Borderline Personality Disorder. When my counselor said that to me, my only words were “Interesting”, and my thoughts said, “No, I don’t have multiple personalities.” Ok, obviously I had my own stigma built up, right? You find new things out about yourself all the time and they don't always make you feel great. Ugh.

I want to give you the official list of symptoms just for information sake. According to the Diagnostic Statistical Manual, to be diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), you must have at least 5 of these:

      Extreme reactions—including panic, depression, rage, or frantic actions—to abandonment, whether real or perceived

      A pattern of intense and stormy relationships with family, friends, and loved ones, often veering from extreme closeness and love (idealization) to extreme dislike or anger (devaluation)

      Distorted and unstable self-image or sense of self, which can result in sudden changes in feelings, opinions, values, or plans and goals for the future (such as school or career choices)

      Impulsive and often dangerous behaviors, such as spending sprees, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating

      Recurring suicidal behaviors or threats or self-harming behavior, such as cutting

      Intense and highly changeable moods, with each episode lasting from a few hours to a few days

      Chronic feelings of emptiness and/or boredom

      Inappropriate, intense anger or problems controlling anger

      Having stress-related paranoid thoughts or severe dissociative symptoms, such as feeling cut off from oneself, observing oneself from outside the body, or losing touch with reality.

The list makes me cringe because I realize, I don’t have like 4 or 5, no I meet all 9 of the criteria for BPD (not an exaggeration). Upon returning home and (of course) obsessively researching the disorder, I was finally able to put a face to my once unidentified enemy. Having a name for my struggle is comforting, but at the same time... I have at moments felt like I’ve now been labeled. Stamp me and toss me down the conveyer belt. I just keep singing to myself, “Every little thing is gonna be alright…”and I keep going. Ok, stumbling while walking… into walls. I didn’t say it was graceful!

Anyways. I’ve been trying to organize my emotions, thoughts, goals, and even letters to people (as my counselor suggested) into a journal. I started out with 1, now as of tonight I have 2. One is for the negative, the venting, the bad days, the rants. The other is my “recovering “journal for my positive thoughts, quotes, bible verses, accomplishments, etc. In it I have started a list of what really does make me feel better. What can I do when I’m having an “episode”?

Here are some things I have so far:

1.      Prayer! (and it literally says “DUH” beside it, of course it works!)

2.      Breathing exercises. Two ways:  

3.      Slow breathing-Rest tip of tongue of back of front teeth, breathe in 4 seconds, hold 7 seconds, and exhale.

4.      Fire breathing-(To be done in 15 second increments)  Quick spurts of breath in and out which flush the body with fresh oxygen.

5.      Bath or Shower- Completely submerged in water except face for bath, and the fine mist setting on my shower head.

6.      Write or Journal. Great for me, that’s what I love to do.

7.      Kid-like activities like coloring.

8.      Mirror time- positive affirmations in the mirror towards yourself. (Don’t like this one yet)

9.      Reach out and talk to someone. Don’t isolate.

10.  Emotion Regulation Worksheet-What emotion your experiencing, on what scale 1-10, what happened to make you feel that emotion, how did you react, what did you assume or believe, what your body felt like during this time, etc. Just to keep track.

These are things that I have tried over the years, and also learned of recently, to build up my coping skills and regulate my emotions. These things take time and consistency, and I’m hoping I stick it out and start seeing some results. If you are struggling, maybe you can take away from this so you can start to heal and comfort yourself.

Thursday I do go back for a counseling session. This time we talk medication, and I’m sorry this may sound so weak, but I can’t wait. I have been doing this for so long. My emotions have driven my life for TOO much time. I cannot wait for some relief. I’m actually excited and hopeful. Not to be doped up, don’t get me wrong, I DON’T want that. I just want to feel stable… if that’s possible! We shall see!

Last counseling session, I was assigned the draining task of writing letters to people (I’ll put it in a nice way) who have been contributors to my emotional state. I have 4 done. It is much more difficult than I anticipated that it would be as these words spill from the inside of me. I was surprised during writing one this evening that I became very angry and began to write very quickly, pressing hard. I wanted to scribble violently, and even thought of writing (HUGE) curse words across the page. Jeez. Wow. I obviously uncovered some deep tarred over bubble. I felt like it was released. Maybe it even popped! I felt great afterwards, even a little body buzz from adrenaline. It really does work. Not that I want vengeance, I’m not going to send them to anyone. Lord knows no one wants to see that, but it’s for my own healing.

Ok. I think I’ve said what I wanted to. I appreciate that you took the time to visit my crazy writings!

BeBlessed!

*Megan*

((-((Wandering, Wondering))-))

I have always been the type of person who will tell you anything about me if you just ask. I’m open and unrestrained, honest to fault about my life, past and present. Until recently, I didn’t know that was strange. In fact, I have spent a lot of my short life wondering why people are not more open about their fears, shortcomings, pasts, and so on. In attempts to pry people open, I have spilled the contents of my soul for many to see, only to receive nothing in return. Even through pain I have caused myself by being open like this, I don’t have plans to cease any time soon. The old saying “your secrets will keep you sick” will always ring true with me. So here’s to painful honesty, and to getting well. It is no secret that I have struggled with what I have dubbed depression for over half of my life. Even before the onset of these dark times at the age of 14, I could tell you of countless times as a child I would weep because of terrifying and intrusive thoughts that kept me awake at night. My earliest memory of these awful and anxious moments dates back to a tender age of 7. I vividly remember obsessing about my parents dying, feeling what I know now as adrenaline flowing through my veins, as if I was having a fight or flight response. It would mark the first of many anxiety attacks I’ve had in my life. I have attempted being open before, only to lose my inspiration to fear and misconceptions. Why am I trying again? I wonder that myself. Truthfully, I must admit that I find my mental health declining as of late. The depression and anxiety, titles that only scratch the surface, has become unbearable and a hindrance to a life I was once able to just deal with. Though it always has in some capacity, my mental shortcomings are now splintering any drive I once had to push forward. Admittedly, I’ve been under a lot of stress. Anyone who knows me is not surprised, what with my being a mother of 5 and all. Some like to use this reasoning as a dismissal as to why I feel crazy. I beg to differ. I attempt to reason, “No, I’ve always been like this.” Instead of attempting any understanding, they simply blame my children instead. Once again in life, I feel pushed aside, my “HELP” sign ripped from my hands and torn to pieces. I watch those shards fall to the ground and wonder why no one will listen. Why do they keep echoing clichés off my eardrums like “God is a healer” “We all go through things” “You’re going to be fine” “You’re tired” “Of course you feel like that, you have all those kids”…? I want to scream and run away. No really. I literally have visions of myself fleeing, my screams of frustration and sadness following behind me, never to return again. Honestly, I do fear what people will think of me upon learning of my life and struggles through these writings, but the fear it is not enough to stunt me from my desire for some kind of understanding. I have felt misunderstood, shut up, and pushed aside my entire life. There’s something in me now that refuses to be quiet anymore. I’m on the journey for healing now. For this reason, I’ve decided to pursue counseling. January 2nd led me to this decision and is a day that won’t fade from memory for a time. That day, I felt something inside myself change and I have not been the same since. I awoke feeling strange. I knew from the start that it was going to be one of “those” days. I attempted to swallow my grumblings and rise, beginning the day with getting breakfast started for the kids, like usual. I noted that I felt heavy, downtrodden, and irritated. A few hours passed and my mood only grew darker. I could not pull myself up out of the hole I felt I was in. In an attempt to shield my children from the crying episode I knew was inevitable, I fled to my bathroom and locked the door. The tears came. I didn’t recognize my own voice as I sobbed. I wanted to scream. I found myself throwing punches and kicks at the bathroom wall beside me, as if it were the enemy. I felt control slipping away from me. I woke my husband soon after so he could help me with the kids, as I feared my children witnessing the state I was in. Things grew worse after he rose, and being frustrated with myself I flew into a free state of rage. I broke my favorite vase with my hand, in one sweep shattering it. The urge to press the broken glass into my hand was uncontrollable. I had not felt that urge for many years. I will spare you any further details and myself anymore embarrassment. I attempted to call my doctor that day with no avail, and to be honest, I should have went to the hospital for help. I wanted to. I am relieved that I didn’t put myself in that position now, but at the time that’s all I wanted to do. Get help. It is for this reason, as I said, I returned to the care of a worldly counselor. Friday, January 18th was my first appointment. As I sat with my husband, both of us taking turns explaining symptoms I have felt and exhibited, my counselor told us she believes I have what is called Borderline Personality Disorder. My exact first word after hearing this was, “Interesting.” I knew nothing of this disorder. In fact, being a student of Psychology for the past 4 years of my life, I had myself convinced I have Bipolar Disorder. All the symptoms fit me. As I listened to her read symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder, or BPD, from her travel sized DSM, I felt my heart begin to beat faster. She was talking about me and everything I have ever felt without even knowing one thing about me. The hope that I left with from that office that day was undeniable and I felt relief for the first time in a long time because finally, maybe, possibly someone understood me. Did I really get a name for the blank face of a battle I’ve fought my entire life? I believe without a shadow of a doubt I have. This doesn’t mean there are only fields of daisies and bowls of cherries in my future. What do I fear most now? Being rejected. Being labeled. Being part of a stigma or a stereotype. Feeling as though I am not a person, but just a disorder or a disease of the mind. I am afraid of all those things. What scares me more than all that? Being questioned as a Christian. I know there will be some who will not believe my diagnosis, who believe it’s of Satan and such things. Please don’t insult me. I have prayed to God every day since I learned the truth of His existence nearly 9 years ago that He would heal me of the sufferings I have been plagued with in this flesh. I have pleaded and begged and I have waited. I have believed and anointed my own body, praying deliverance and healing over myself. DO NOT TWIST MY WORDS. I BELIEVE GOD IS A HEALER AND A DELIEVER. If He was not, I would not be here today. I would have taken my own life if it were not for the strength He has given me, and the hope He has poured into my soul that I can have life now because of Him alone. He died so I can be whole. I believe every word He says and it is written that in Eternity I will not struggle anymore in this flesh. Unfortunately, it’s not Eternity yet. The battle has become too much for me now to do alone in the temporal, and I’m not willing that my children or my husband suffer because of the pieces of the fight that they do witness. I am seeking wellness now, not only for me but for them, so we can be the family I desire us to be, so we can successfully minister to others for the sake of the Kingdom of God. I feel I must get my flesh under submission, my anger and emotions regulated, my pain dealt with, to achieve this. I must get this flesh out of my way so I can live fully in Christ, who has already died for this very reason. Thank you for listening. I appreciate and need your support at this time in my life. Stay tuned for future posts as my treatment and diagnosis develops. I’m ready and willing to share this journey with you in hope that I will help someone and shatter the stigmas surrounding mental illness. May peace be with you always! <3 Megan

~Endless~

There's still a little girl in me,
She never got what she did need,
A comforting hand, a soothing voice,
What was recieved wasn't by choice.

Gritted teeth, pain and tears,
Not forgotten, just repressed over years,
Many sleepless nights and darkened days,
That little girl never learned how to play.

That pain has now seeped into her life,
A woman with many steep mountains to climb,
Broken friendships and unfinished dreams,
The past floods back more often it seems.

When will it let loose? When will she be free?
To be everything her Creator made her to be,
The endless battle in her mind rages on,
Who will love me? Where do I belong?

Clouded mind and infected thoughts,
Peace in reach waiting to be caught,
Each battle won, two more ensue,
Gaining wisdom and strength along the way through.

Still the echos of the past haunt her nights,
Regret and shame blocking the light,
Unable to understand the truth of love,
Failing to grasp meaning of grace from above.


Merciless life and hardened hearts,
Reaching for love, recieving darts,
Never knowing unconditional love,
Feeling worthless, tainted, never enough.

Now she watches herself destroy everything,
Her hate never leaving even from her dreams,
Cold eyes and an ungiving life,
Fruit rotting in a basket it seems.

Hope beyond hope there's still a chance,
That her life someday will bring romance,
A fire for living, a passion inside,
A song on her lips and a graceful dance.


There's still a little girl in me,
She never got what she did need,
But her Father calls from up above,
Beckoning with arms full of Love.

Everything she'll ever need,
What she'll be He will teach,
He will cradle the dark places within,
Never far, willing to forgive.

See there's still a little girl in me,
Scared, shaking, untrusting,
Jesus reaches out to me,
When He's here darkness just can't be.


Megan Adams
September 6th, 2011
1:04 a.m.
 

Trouble sleeping...*))

The silence of night can be deafening when you can't sleep.

Here I am once again, laying here, mind wondering away with baskets full of my peaceful slumber. Why can't I get to sleep lately? I'm beating my head against the wall (not literally) with this question. Too much on my mind, my friend. I watch the hours tick away...10...11...12...1...2. For weeks now.

Every morning I have to come face to face with the sun and the stark realization that yes, once again, I achieved maybe 4-5 hours decent rest. I can tell you in over-emphasis that that is just not enough. No, not for a mother of 4 who needs to move non-stop all day to keep up with all the fiery pins she's juggling. (I've been watching too much America's Got Talent.)

I'm tired! Half way through each day I feel as though someone has given me an IV with a black hole on the other end. I'm sick of the grump in the mirror every morning, fighting for a shred of joy so I don't rip someones head off...just being honest.

Maybe I'm spreading myself entirely too thin and it's making my brain tweak out. I long for some sort of balance. It all looks like peaches and cream on the outside but the inside is melted! When I lay down at night it is as if the shift sets gears in motion in my head... What do I need to do tomorrow? Do I need to go anywhere? Do I have homework? What am I going to feed the kids for lunch? We're almost out of laundry soap. If they don't start keeping their stuff picked up, I swear I'll go on strike! (LOL, it would never work!) 

Stop brain, enough is enough. For. Real.    

Insomniacs~ I feel your pain! How do people do this?