Wild Minds network
Maladaptive Daydreaming: where wild minds come to rest
Feeling Odd
Well, life kinda sucks after an episode like the one I had on Friday.
Still kind of shook up about it.
Wifey even told me that she had to wake me up in the middle of the night because I was "crying like a little kid" (not the first time it's happened).
I might "literally" be a "cult of personality".
Wish my therapist would crap or get off the pot on this one, its getting kind of creepy in here.
It may be that my boss will have to separate my work partner and I until she cools her heels or I miraculously get un-crazy.
I can't afford to pay a bunch of doctors to deal with someone else's problems.
I love her like a sister, but if she can't suck it up she's gotta go.
It seems like I'll have a day or two where there's significant anxiety spikes followed by 3-5 hours of depression after episodes like that.
I just woke up from a nap taken to avoid dealing with the latter.
Started the day by thinking I was going to strangle Wifey(not literally of course). I had just finished a 30 minute grudge match with our "basic" home budget and was feeling pretty good about having dealt an unsuspecting blow to the monster, when I heard our one and only vehicle start up and leave with all the gas I had for the week with it. I didn't exactly blow a gasket but it was close.
I am definitely going to have to use some of that MD "creativity" to get myself back and forth to work next week. *grumble,grumble*
I dug up "old bones" (my laptop) and trotted down to the Tacoma public library in slightly renewed spirits.
I should have seen the anxiety spike coming, but at the time I thought I was just having an irritable response to a recent reduction in caffeine intake (I have a love/hate relationship with coffee).
Once in the library I shifted the blame to a nicotine fit, but as I packed up and left the library I began to recognize that the anxiety had me by the marbles and was wrestling me, ungracefully, to the ground.
I got home and milled about while grumping and grumbling at Wifey and my sweet and snotty teenage daughter before raising the white flag and sulking off to bed.
The medication helps. I don't feel things as intensely....even the anxiety.
Cordellia posted about her recent outing and a link to a quiz about "highly sensitive people".
I found yet another grouping of words that accurately describes my life story.
Will definitely bring that to the attention of my head shrinker.
Anyway, the meds have allowed me to observe, and even observe objectively, my experiences and feelings rather than simply reacting to them and scrambling down the rabbit hole with a fistful of mushrooms.(been on my Alice in Wonderland kick lately- maybe C.S. Lewis was an MDr?)
The medication has also allowed me to chronicle these experiences and feelings and smear them across the screens of unsuspecting readers, which I think actually makes me feel better, despite the guilt felt for the effects on said readers. ;)
I am currently teaching myself to type so I can work a little quicker at writing down my experiences with MD. Its kind of uncomfortable for me and the logic of the typing is to whip the words out before I have anytime to analyze their meaning.
But equal to, or even greater than, the effect of that medication, has been the guided hypnoses I listen to on my iPod thingy.
These have been an absolute Buddha-send(I'm still angry at God) and I harbor not a shred of doubt as to their effectiveness.
I recommend them with all the sincerity of my being. I still find myself wondering how I ever got along without them.
I cannot discount the contributions to these hypnotics by the guided meditations that I discovered and practiced before hand. They have kept me on an even keel and firmly cemented positive changes in place.
Anyway, I've been thinking about borderline personality disorder a lot lately. And not just to its relation to my wife, daughter, my only friend, and that evil step-"it" I rarely acknowledge exists. But how it relates to myself...at least until I had that little episode Friday night.
I really connected to the description of a "low-functioning" border lion.
It seemed a pretty accurate description of my life with my real family. It would be utterly pathetic of me to say I wasn't an intolerant, self-entitled little d**che- bag, right up to the point I ended all communication with them. I cringe at the thought that I exposed them to same insanity that my wife and daughter expose me to.
But there was emotional neglect and abuse present. I think I had reasonable cause to be angry.
I remember a considerable amount of that anger coming from not being understood, of being lectured and scolded on the trivialities of life while I was slowly suffocating in the misery of my helplessness and hopelessness.
This is what has got my therapist all higgledy-piggledy and uncertain in committing to an "official" diagnoses.
Was the anger proportionate to the abuse inflicted?
How did having a "likely" MPD mother affect my development?
And how does my MD play out in all of this?....I'm sure it plays out significantly as it was an all consuming addiction(imagine the response you'd get from stealing a young crackhead's pipe).
I thinks she's now able to devote her full attention to this now, as I was adamant about her finding out what was causing these all consuming, life-sabotaging daydreams. It took her a while to figure it out, but she did it.
Borderline has overlapping symptoms with MPD and both have "defense systems" in place to evade discovery and treatment.
(I am still receiving treatment however; because they also have "overlapping" treatments)
The doubt I have concerning borderline is that I don't have the most obnoxious traits anymore. As I understand it, borderline doesn't "cure" itself.
The aggression was aimed at a certain set of people, and when I cut those people out of my life, I no longer subjected anyone to my greater wrath.
Though, there was a "hyper-sensitivity" to the small inequities and intrusions in the world around me, that would send me into hours-long rants and red-faced fits.
I guess I don't really blame my folks for all of this.
Just like me, they were just playing the cards they were handed and did the best they could.
Mental illness and frustration got the better of them, just like it's done me.
The difference is that I now have resources that weren't available to them at the time.
Being a parent can really suck sometimes.
And sometimes it can really blow up in your face.
Anywhoo, I've been at this for longer than I care to admit and it's become evident that I'm using it as an escape, as a replacement for DDing. Guess I'm still a little upset and needing to "scramble down the rabbit hole with a fistful of mushrooms".
I'm listening to another "80s" music weekend and getting a little too nostalgic. Starting to feel depressed.
Guess I should hang it up for the night and hope reality'll be kinder in the morning.
Addendum: major last minute morale boost! Wifey just got up and is throwing cheese-sticks and chicken wings in the deep fryer! Mmmm....artery clogging goodness. It'll eventually cure all that ails me.
I suppose that if one is to look like a Sasquatch, one might as well be a "pot bellied" one. :0)
Still kind of shook up about it.
Wifey even told me that she had to wake me up in the middle of the night because I was "crying like a little kid" (not the first time it's happened).
I might "literally" be a "cult of personality".
Wish my therapist would crap or get off the pot on this one, its getting kind of creepy in here.
It may be that my boss will have to separate my work partner and I until she cools her heels or I miraculously get un-crazy.
I can't afford to pay a bunch of doctors to deal with someone else's problems.
I love her like a sister, but if she can't suck it up she's gotta go.
It seems like I'll have a day or two where there's significant anxiety spikes followed by 3-5 hours of depression after episodes like that.
I just woke up from a nap taken to avoid dealing with the latter.
Started the day by thinking I was going to strangle Wifey(not literally of course). I had just finished a 30 minute grudge match with our "basic" home budget and was feeling pretty good about having dealt an unsuspecting blow to the monster, when I heard our one and only vehicle start up and leave with all the gas I had for the week with it. I didn't exactly blow a gasket but it was close.
I am definitely going to have to use some of that MD "creativity" to get myself back and forth to work next week. *grumble,grumble*
I dug up "old bones" (my laptop) and trotted down to the Tacoma public library in slightly renewed spirits.
I should have seen the anxiety spike coming, but at the time I thought I was just having an irritable response to a recent reduction in caffeine intake (I have a love/hate relationship with coffee).
Once in the library I shifted the blame to a nicotine fit, but as I packed up and left the library I began to recognize that the anxiety had me by the marbles and was wrestling me, ungracefully, to the ground.
I got home and milled about while grumping and grumbling at Wifey and my sweet and snotty teenage daughter before raising the white flag and sulking off to bed.
The medication helps. I don't feel things as intensely....even the anxiety.
Cordellia posted about her recent outing and a link to a quiz about "highly sensitive people".
I found yet another grouping of words that accurately describes my life story.
Will definitely bring that to the attention of my head shrinker.
Anyway, the meds have allowed me to observe, and even observe objectively, my experiences and feelings rather than simply reacting to them and scrambling down the rabbit hole with a fistful of mushrooms.(been on my Alice in Wonderland kick lately- maybe C.S. Lewis was an MDr?)
The medication has also allowed me to chronicle these experiences and feelings and smear them across the screens of unsuspecting readers, which I think actually makes me feel better, despite the guilt felt for the effects on said readers. ;)
I am currently teaching myself to type so I can work a little quicker at writing down my experiences with MD. Its kind of uncomfortable for me and the logic of the typing is to whip the words out before I have anytime to analyze their meaning.
But equal to, or even greater than, the effect of that medication, has been the guided hypnoses I listen to on my iPod thingy.
These have been an absolute Buddha-send(I'm still angry at God) and I harbor not a shred of doubt as to their effectiveness.
I recommend them with all the sincerity of my being. I still find myself wondering how I ever got along without them.
I cannot discount the contributions to these hypnotics by the guided meditations that I discovered and practiced before hand. They have kept me on an even keel and firmly cemented positive changes in place.
Anyway, I've been thinking about borderline personality disorder a lot lately. And not just to its relation to my wife, daughter, my only friend, and that evil step-"it" I rarely acknowledge exists. But how it relates to myself...at least until I had that little episode Friday night.
I really connected to the description of a "low-functioning" border lion.
It seemed a pretty accurate description of my life with my real family. It would be utterly pathetic of me to say I wasn't an intolerant, self-entitled little d**che- bag, right up to the point I ended all communication with them. I cringe at the thought that I exposed them to same insanity that my wife and daughter expose me to.
But there was emotional neglect and abuse present. I think I had reasonable cause to be angry.
I remember a considerable amount of that anger coming from not being understood, of being lectured and scolded on the trivialities of life while I was slowly suffocating in the misery of my helplessness and hopelessness.
This is what has got my therapist all higgledy-piggledy and uncertain in committing to an "official" diagnoses.
Was the anger proportionate to the abuse inflicted?
How did having a "likely" MPD mother affect my development?
And how does my MD play out in all of this?....I'm sure it plays out significantly as it was an all consuming addiction(imagine the response you'd get from stealing a young crackhead's pipe).
I thinks she's now able to devote her full attention to this now, as I was adamant about her finding out what was causing these all consuming, life-sabotaging daydreams. It took her a while to figure it out, but she did it.
Borderline has overlapping symptoms with MPD and both have "defense systems" in place to evade discovery and treatment.
(I am still receiving treatment however; because they also have "overlapping" treatments)
The doubt I have concerning borderline is that I don't have the most obnoxious traits anymore. As I understand it, borderline doesn't "cure" itself.
The aggression was aimed at a certain set of people, and when I cut those people out of my life, I no longer subjected anyone to my greater wrath.
Though, there was a "hyper-sensitivity" to the small inequities and intrusions in the world around me, that would send me into hours-long rants and red-faced fits.
I guess I don't really blame my folks for all of this.
Just like me, they were just playing the cards they were handed and did the best they could.
Mental illness and frustration got the better of them, just like it's done me.
The difference is that I now have resources that weren't available to them at the time.
Being a parent can really suck sometimes.
And sometimes it can really blow up in your face.
Anywhoo, I've been at this for longer than I care to admit and it's become evident that I'm using it as an escape, as a replacement for DDing. Guess I'm still a little upset and needing to "scramble down the rabbit hole with a fistful of mushrooms".
I'm listening to another "80s" music weekend and getting a little too nostalgic. Starting to feel depressed.
Guess I should hang it up for the night and hope reality'll be kinder in the morning.
Addendum: major last minute morale boost! Wifey just got up and is throwing cheese-sticks and chicken wings in the deep fryer! Mmmm....artery clogging goodness. It'll eventually cure all that ails me.
I suppose that if one is to look like a Sasquatch, one might as well be a "pot bellied" one. :0)
Views: 70
Comment
-
Comment by Larry on August 19, 2013 at 6:54pm
-
Lol! You caught me sleeping! I don't know why CS Lewis came to mind. Guess I'll actually have to read some of his work knowing now what his circumstances in life were.
I do think loneliness has a lot to do with MD.
Methinks the famous ones were the higher functioning ones. ( those not hiding from something terrible)
© 2024 Created by Valeria Franco.
Powered by
You need to be a member of Wild Minds network to add comments!
Join Wild Minds network