A Day in the Life

Image Source, Taisiia Shestopal, (Unsplash)

Something I am learning to come to terms with and speak out about is that I’ve been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I was first diagnosed in July all I could really find on the internet was the scary medical stuff and statistics - so welcome to a day in the life with BPD (a trigger day). Let me preface this my saying not all days are like this. Some days are worse but a lot of days are better. And “trigger” days definitely don’t always look the same. Some triggers last only moments. I won’t talk about what I call “episodes” in this because, thankfully, I didn’t have one - and I don’t think that’s something I have the capacity to discuss anyway because quite often I don’t remember the majority of the episode. 

7am

I wake up and I do not want to deal with the world; I wish I meant the typical “I want another half an hour in bed” mood. I wanted to call in to work sick. I want to stay in bed and go back to sleep so I don’t have to feel - and then the anxiety hit in because I thought about sleeping. Sleep wasn’t great last night, woke up from two vivid nightmares about a life event that I struggle to deal with in a conscious state. Don’t want to go back to sleep. Don’t want to be awake. Going to be late if I don’t get up.

Don’t care if I’m late, I don’t deserve my job, I don’t deserve my lifestyle.

Internal struggle with affirmations to tell myself I do deserve to be here and finally get up. Text my manager tell her I might be a few minutes late - had a bad morning.

Remember how lucky I am that I have a manager like her who looks out for me and everyone I work with is like family.

7.50am

The 10 minute walk to my bus has become a safe haven, the fresh air helps me regulate my emotions from this morning.

12.30pm

Locking the doors for lunch time in work sends a jolt of panic through me, it doesn’t usually. Maybe a combination of bulimic thoughts attacking me the last few days and the weather being so dull, heavy grey clouds and that measly drizzle that soaks you through somehow while misting your face. I don’t have lunch today, just a coffee and an energy drink. Unusual for me. Since lockdown I went into a state of binging to cope. Hasn’t been great for my weight, my health or my confidence (or wardrobe).

4pm

Starting to get extremely anxious. It’s a balancing day in work, I know I’ve been extremely hazy recently due to a change in meds (again). Combining that with how mentally flustered I was and remembering past mistakes I feel like I might have a panic attack. Can feel what group calls “the fizz” rising. Starting to get very angry at myself. Can’t hit anything. Can’t show the beginning of episode. Grab little make shift stress ball and squeeze it in replacement of hitting.

6pm

My arms don’t feel like they’re mine. They’re so heavy and don’t feel like they fit on my body. This feeling has been happening a lot recently. It’s so frustrating and I let a few tears fall before I decide dinner will be more complex tonight. Cooking is a safe haven - there’s so many things to focus on sometimes that it helps drown out thoughts and impulses. I try my first attempt at homemade pasta and pair it with a white wine sauce.

8pm

I’m exhausted. I try to read, I can’t concentrate. I end up scrolling endlessly through social media. I don’t even know what I’m looking at, I know there’s a screen and I’m moving it but I’m in my own head.

10pm 

The exhaustion is too much after a rough nights sleep, I get a hot shower. The burning on my skin reminds me that I’m here and I’m real. Anxiety starts creeping in in case I dream of the dream I fear again, it’s been 28 months as I write this and I still have nightmares.

by Caitlin Mussen (Staff Health & Wellbeing Writer)

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