It is not an easy night. It is 4AM and my grief is keeping me up like a little child. In fact, I believe it literally is a little child. My psychologist introduced me to Internal Family Systems and the idea that we have different “parts”. Within me are parts stuck at different ages. I didn’t always interact with my psychologist as a 31-year-old adult. I attached to her like a child attaches herself to a mother. Sometimes my young part(s) would not only hijack my emotions but they would hijack my behaviour. There was one session I spent on the floor playing with the toys in her office. I put some of her little soft animals in her plastic expandable ball (there is one for sale on Ebay here for reference) and rolled them around. I built block towers out of dominos, and then balanced my psychologist’s little toy hedgehog on top, very impressed that it did not collapse. My psychologist had two crochet otters called “Harry” and “Ginny”. One day when she took leave she let me keep one of them. She kept “Harry” and said she would carry him in her handbag wherever she went so that she wouldn’t forget me. They were like friendship charms. She said it was normally what she’d do for her children, but she trusted me and thought it might help. It did help. I kept “Ginny” by my bed and she was of great comfort, so much so that I had trouble relinquishing her when my psychologist returned. I gave “Ginny” back to her crying and then left abruptly. Continue reading “Sad”
Every day I get urges to kill myself. Last night I called Lifeline. I actually found the lady who picked up really helpful. She was horrified by my psychologist’s behaviour and said she shouldn’t be practicing. Something I’ve learnt about Lifeline is they are there for anyone in distress and needing someone to talk to, you don’t have to be suicidal. Today when I woke up I called Blue Knot, a helpline for those with childhood trauma. They offer free, weekly 45 minute counselling sessions, though it’s a different counsellor each time. I’ve been meaning to check them out. I didn’t find the lady as empathetic and am not sure I will call them again next week.
I’ve been thinking a bit about my combination of personality disorders today. Each personality disorder is basically a defense strategy we develop to deal with trauma and pain. I have what might seem like an odd combination: BPD and Schizoid Personality Disorder. It is like having two people in my head arguing.
“You should have listened to me and never got involved with that psychologist”, Schizoid brags.
“I was right all along. Psychologists are dangerous. Attachments are dangerous. The only person you have and can rely on is yourself.”
But Borderline has a real need for attachment. The monochrome life of the Schizoid is unbearable.
The worst thing for Borderline is abandonment and loss. The worst thing for Schizoid is contact and suffocation. The two are constantly at war, and I struggle to find a middle ground. Continue reading “Today’s update: finding myself”
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