Monday, 23 January 2017

When The Mood Starts To Dip Again

Hey Schneckens!
It's been a while, I have tried to blog in so many ways. Tried starting a new one multiple times, but I just couldn't. I can't get into a routine like 17 year old me could. I mean, she was a lot more "free". I really regret the fact I didn't do much with my free time before.

Anyway, here I am and I am slightly depressed. Over the last year, my mood has been insane. I was manic, then depressed, then manic again and now you can kinda see where we are heading: DEPRESSION. Woo...

I hate this. I feel so down, I have been crying more and feeling so tired. Food wise, I want to eat, but I am restricting food again. I feel so desperate for a puke but I can't - instead I am at the gym now, wanting to absolutely smash it, but my body physically can't go the way I want it to. My flatmates are wonderful about everything, but I feel like I can't let them know the extent of how I am feeling.

Fortunately I have my psychiatrist appointment coming up and got a shit ton of happy pills. Guess I just need a bit of TLC atm!

Toodles :)

Thursday, 15 September 2016

25 ALTERNATIVE Ways To Turn A Guy Down

Yooo, Schneckens!
Am I still fly enough to say yo? Or have I officially gone past the line of being hip and old lady?

So whilst on the way to put in my prescription, I suddenly had a brainwave - I am shit at turning guys down and most of the time, I end up with some right old dicks. It's not intentional or all the time - a lot of the time I like the guy, but others it's just I can't handle the guilt of saying no because no is painful. Therefore, here are some alternative ways to do so, because the simple 'you're just not my type' or whatever is just not enough nowadays.

25 Alternative Ways To Turn A Guy Down:

1. Tell him that since being with him, your period has become its heaviest as if it is telling you loudly and proudly that you two are just not compatible. If you are a guy, go with it still.
2. Spot a cat, stroke said cat and when it interacts with you, preferably with meows, inform him that the cat is telling you that he's not the one and then leave.
3. Prove that you are in fact cousins.
4. Tell him that you are Madonna.
5. If he likes Madonna, tell him that you're not that Madonna and leave on a cliffhanger.
6. Explain that you were what Willis was talking about and how you were a bit of a bitch.
7. The twin lie is getting old, tell him you are a clone and have no emotions and therefore this relationship just wouldn't work.
8. Tell him you're married to your job. Literally. Whip out certificates and everything.
9. Go on a huge ass rant about the metaphor in The Fault In Our Stars and how it is really stupid because Augustus putting a cigarette in his mouth and not lighting the thing that can kill him is equivalent to you ordering a massive chocolate cake and then not eating it (Note, I am Diabetic)
10. Say the wrong name at the altar.
11. Continue to say the wrong name even after this.
12. Just admit to him that you literally can't remember his name and this just won't work.
13. Hire a hitman to dump him.
14. After the misunderstanding, explain to him that you didn't want to dump him, you just wanted to duuuump him.
15. Ask he pay your bail after the whole hitman fiasco.
16. When he says no, ask him why he's being such a dick about this.
17. Constantly talk in third person.
18. Offer to pay for dinner and if he refuses because it makes him less of a man, roll your eyes so much that you disappear.
19. Paint him a really complicated picture and let him work it out himself.
20. Alternatively, poems and bakes work too.
21. Explain that the Great British Bake Off moving to Channel 4 is a sign about where the relationship is heading.
22. Then add that the two of you are not the Sue and Mel of the relationship world.
23. Convince him you're pro-Brexit and pro-Trump and if he says 'me too', tell him you were trying to get him to dump you, but how the tables have no turned and you're now dumping him.
24. Tell him you're going to get a packet of cigarettes and not return.
25. Finish all his sentences with 'that's what she said'.

So if these work, you are welcome. If not, will cake help? Damn I want cake now...

Toodles :)

Friday, 19 August 2016

My Attacker Got Away With It [Contains details of sexual assault and mental illness]

Hey, Schneckens!
It feels like a lifetime since I felt the urge to write, but the truth is, my mood has fluctuated so much over the last year that sometimes I find myself going faster than my actual mind allows me or vice versa in the sense my mind races faster than my body can allow. I can't make promises that I will be consistent on here, it'll take a while to get into the swing of things and I essentially need to get the blog active again. I guess the lemons life gave me were more complicated than I first thought.

Yesterday, as many will know, was the A Level results day and many many students went into their schools to pick up their results. There was one person who shouldn't have though: my attacker.

Two years ago, whilst I was a 17/18 year old completing my last year in Sixth Form (remember those days?!) I grew close to a guy in the year below me. I knew he was trouble, but hey, I was young, naive and desperate for some sort of attention from a guy. Skip past the harassment when he guessed my breast size and discussed them graphically in front of his friends and mine; the crude and excessive, bordering obsessive, demands for sex and nude pictures, I found myself backed into a wall by the school toilets with him forcing his body weight onto mine, breathing heavily on my neck which he continued to touch, demanding I show him a naked picture of me. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. When my friend returned, he acted as if nothing happened and showed his attentions briefly to her. Later when he offered us a sip of his ice tea, he gave me a look of sanctification and smugness because he had got what he wanted and he knew he could get more from me. Me. I shook, anxious and nauseous. If I didn't already feel depressed with the prospect of starting university, now knowing that I had to continue to keep him interested or be "alone" made the depression darker and my heart was now a black hole - it took in everything, but I couldn't feel or give anything back.

Fast forward back to this year, but in May. As part of my degree, I needed to complete a work placement. The whole thing was very rushed to put into action as myself and personal tutor agreed that with the third year just around the corner, in order to reduce the stress I will face next year, we need to put in practice ways we can prevent another psychotic episode that I had earlier in February this year. We talked about it and decided that if I completed the actual placement section in the summer, that is one thing we can check off now and one less thing to stress about. So when May came, I was all set to return to the school and do 100 hours with the drama and SEN department. It was an amazing experiencing for me getting to learn from the teachers who had inspired me to go into Drama and gave me a passion for the idea of teaching the subject. I worked well with the students, ensuring they produced work they were happy and proud with, as well as encouraging students to take risks and enjoy the devising process of drama. Likewise, the chance to work with the SEN department, the team who assists students who require special educational needs or support, was groundbreaking and I found myself determined to find new ways I can use drama to assist young people, whether academically or emotionally.

But of course, he was still a student due to failing year 12 the first time round and this year was his final year and chance to get his A Levels and go to university. This was part of the placement I was never going to be prepared for and many of my friends and health care team were against due to the effects seeing him might do. In February, during my psychotic episode, I believed he was the devil and was out to hurt me, so understandably a lot of people were worried about what might happen. They were right to be worried as I spent the majority of my days on edge, paranoid, anxious every time I walked down the corridors and crossed sites. When the bell went at break times, I froze in the staff room, too afraid to leave just in case. Three days into my placement and it happened - I saw him, crossing the site, with his friends. My response was drastic - run across the road, not caring if a car would race past and knock me over. I needed to escape. I didn't though, mainly because it's a tight road and cars were blocking any chance of escape as he got closer and closer like a predator in the wild. I held my breath and walked past him, none of us looking each other in the eye. The damage was small, just anxious and shaky, but the paranoia worsened and I found myself on edge even more now that it had happened. Fortunately I didn't see him again for another week but that was the moment I knew I was still very, very unwell. When I left the staff room, there he was, and he looked in each other's eyes and I completely panicked. I couldn't breathe and my body was shaking uncontrollably.  My mind was racing and his eyes wouldn't leave my thoughts. I begun experiencing psychotic symptoms again,
...he was the devil, not wait, Rasputin, he was evil I knew that, I am Jesus, I can save him - the bible, yes, the bible, grab it, grab it now, what does it say..... he knows. I know. I am evil, his evil is in me, I gave into temptation.

I saw evil in his eyes and once I calmed down, if you can even call it that, I paused the placement until he was finished with his exams knowing I just couldn't do it anymore. The break wasn't easy though, still experiencing symptoms of psychosis, I would think he was in the house, at one point, whilst cleaning, I jumped out of my skin because I thought she was him. I knew I couldn't cope anymore, but that placement had to be completed quickly.

I returned early July, still paranoid and one edge. I remember my first day back not blinking a lot, just waiting for him to appear even though he most likely wouldn't. As the day progressed, a lifeline came my way. One of the sixth form leaders, whilst in the staff room, asked if I was okay and I stared outside looking for him as she continued to ask, each time more worried. I confessed. She took me into her office and I told her everything, what he did to me, my friend, the other girls - basically everything I knew about him that people would tell me (lord, why would people keep telling me things about him?!) Everything over time had erupted and I couldn't hold it in anymore, out of desperateness I confided in the teacher in the place it happened, two years later, just so I can be free. I had to tell the school counsellor the next day and all my options were laid on the table and I was a depressed, suicidal wreck after baring everything and losing my friend in the process (we are no longer friends, or at least close friends, after my decision to mention briefly her incident, didn't mention her name or any details, just that he did things like this more than once, but it wasn't enough for my friend and she lost her trust in me, which I guess is fair. I just couldn't hold everything in anymore) Eventually I completed the placement and I left the school without saying goodbye to anyone - cold, I know, but I was so suicidal and had made an actual attempt the day before, that I didn't want it to be a legitimate goodbye to 'Zoella'.

So yesterday was results day and before I left the school, they had told me he would be banned for life from ever entering the premises again. They lied, or at least, changed their minds. He walked onto the school grounds yesterday, picked up his results, got into university, all as a free man. I wasn't there, but I played every possible scenario in my head of how the day would pan out. They didn't tell me the ban would not happen until I emailed them the day before the results, they stated that a reason would have to be given and they thought it would be best for me to just supervise him closesly (like they did at his prom after I had told them about the assault) They said it was best for me because he might get into contact over the allegations or his peers, or something like that. I stopped reading it properly when it said he would be able to collect them and he wouldn't be banned. They could've just given the reason that many people have made allegations or many are uncomfortable with him on the premises, but alas, they didn't.

He walked on and off the premises a free man, with a ticket to university and a bright future in what I can imagine is engineering, whilst I took an extra antidepressant to sedate me so I would feel completely high and numb.

My attacker, my abuser, the man I once loved and called friend got away with it. Where is the justice?

Toodles :)

Monday, 13 June 2016

I Was Abused

Hi, Schneckens!
Trigger warning, this blog will get very deep and sensitive topics of sexual assault; mental illness and emotional abuse will be present from the start.

So I guess this title was a fitting way to start and pretty much says it all. I was abused. My abuser is only half a year younger than me, but age doesn't mean anything in this sort of issue, I just felt the need to address his age because it started when we were sixth formers and I was a year 13 and he was a year 12 and he failed that year, so he's finally in year 13 now. I didn't want any confusion when I mention things along the line.

I actually blogged about when I first met him and reading it back is kinda funny because at the time, Giraffe was the one causing me heartache, yet nothing could ever have compared to what my abuser caused me in 3 years. Here it is: My personal highlight:
First of all, some guy was talking to me and my friend, asked our names, and then said our friend was "fit". Thanks. I did spend forever on my hair today, I did spend hours in the bathroom trying to look good and I did repeatedly make myself sick to be thin. But hey, if my friend's fit, then that's fine. Fine. In case you're wondering, no, I do not like this guy; I've never met him before.
I think that was a good sign that whatever happened between me and him, it was also going to be doomed, but alas, Giraffe was my heart breaker then and anyone else was my knight and shining armour. It's strange looking at this because I think I am showing very early signs of BPD. I wouldn't be surprised if by this point, I was starting to develop it further and this incident pushed it more. Ah, but even compared to now, it was all so simple. My abuser was a mere stranger who knew nothing about me nor I him. Can we go back to then? Granted, I was self harming, purging, extreme dieting emotional wreck, but I'm still all those things now, just labelled as 'Emotionally Unstable'.

My abuser was vulgar to a lot of women. He hit on them, showed them pics of dicks and vaginas, kept asking them to send him nudes, made them touch him, touched them sexually even though they said no. Hmm, that's sexual assault, right? Until I got into my second year of university and part of the SU, I didn't know what sexual assault was - I thought it was merely rape and that was it. So when my friend confided in me that he had touched her and barricade the door so she couldn't leave, whilst I thought he was a sick vile cunt, I and her were relieved it didn't go further. When she told me straight afterwards, I pleaded with her to stay away from him and to report him. The latter didn't happen because she was afraid that people would judge her, but the first happened. She stayed away and I look up to her for being brave after it, I would have crumbled - I had so easily over a fucking rejection note after all.

I didn't stay away though and that's why I think I deserved the abuse. I knew his reputation and what he did to my best friend, but I couldn't stay away. It was as I described earlier, every other guy was my knight and shining armour and he paid attention to me. He didn't tell me I wasn't pretty enough and he certainly didn't reject me - he was pursuing me. He was viewing me in a sexual way and I felt like I was winning at a game I didn't understand. He spoke to me like the guys I fantasised about in television or movies - he was the bad boy I thought I needed since the nice guy didn't. I'm such a walking cliché! I didn't realise what he was doing was wrong though. He spoke about my breasts in front of everyone and my friend - the friend he assaulted. He knew my breast size before my name. I was flattered at the time that I was getting the so called taste of what I thought was normal. I was happy, finally. But I wasn't really. I needed more and I became more desperate for love and attention - the classic Borderline signs.

He finally added me on Facebook the final day of April and I accepted it the moment I saw it when I woke up. Even took a picture of it! I had it now. I went through his profile immediately, trying to understand him and win his heart the way he was winning mine. I needed saving from Giraffe, the "spawn of Satan" in my eyes at the time. I didn't talk to him yet though, I was too anxious to make that move. I never approach guys, that's just not my thing given how anxious I can be. So I waited and then I bit the bullet and just did it. I asked him if he listened to Nine Inch Nails' Closer and then the gate was opened. Had I opened it or did he do it long before that? The gate? The sex gate...

I can't remember when exactly, but my abuser and I were now in a Facebook talking kinda relationship now. We spoke about music and our mutual tastes - he often complimented my tastes and we shared music to each other - he was the guy who got me into Hollywood Undead after all! But then one Thursday, the rain was chucking it down and Ruby was talking to this girl Laura about relationship problems. Obviously this annoyed me given a) I was single af and heart broken and b) Giraffe was in the fucking room at the time making the pain worse. So I went upstairs. Well, first I walked past him and went upstairs. I was going to make myself sick I think. Anyway, I stopped because I saw him coming up the stairs and I just stood there, pretending to use my phone and wait by the window for him. He had to wash his hands, apparently. When he came out, the moment I had always dreamed of happened - he asked for my number! I had seen this done on television and film for so long that when it happened to me, I wanted to just throw myself at him and say, "take me, dammit!" I didn't, btw, I acted coy and gave it to him, he gave me his and he said he'd text me after I told him I didn't use WhatsApp. Shocker, he didn't text me.

After that, exams were on my mind and Giraffe's girlfriend had been revealed, so I was devastated and hurting myself more and more. Guess who was my saving grace? My abuser, obviously. He would ask how I was, acknowledge me, talk to me - everything I wanted and needed. Sometimes he ignored me in favour of my friends, but it didn't matter because he was a nice guy really. Yeeeaaah, every one of my friends (except one) disagreed as well as my teachers.. But what did they know! I said fuck it and I made every attempt to get him to pay more attention to me. I got WhatsApp, I acted sexy on SnapChat and I felt the confidence in me grow more and more everyday! All because he treated me like a woman!

...But then he asked if I was a virgin. It was June now and I finished my exams. We would talk late into the night and early hours. He asked if I was a virgin. How the fuck did we get here?! The gates were opened, remember. He asked, I lied and that cemented our future. I always remember that day because it was my first panic attack in a year. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop getting sick. I felt like a slut when he uttered those 3 letters. D.T.F. He asked if I was dtf. I didn't even know what that meant and when I searched it, I froze in fear and tried running away, but he kept messaging me over and over again. Shit, why did I lie?! I can't back out now, he's clearly interested, I can't stop now. Keep going. I asked if he was. He answered immediately - "if I am single, yes. If I'm not, no." I asked what he was and quickly, he replied - single. I panicked more and more, I wasn't ready for this. I phoned everyone for help, but it was late. I finally answered and said not now and he said fair. I sighed in relief, I got away with it. I hadn't though. My abuser wanted pictures, he wanted sex. Prom night he messaged me, he wanted pics. Not of my dress though. I tried being clever a few times - when he asked to see my "tits" I would say but the dress is so nice (it was btw) or send him pictures of a blue tit. We were now on WhatsApp now. The messages couldn't be avoided. They kept coming and coming (pardon the pun) and my abuser was getting annoyed. He DEMANDED pictures now and scared, I sent him teasers on SnapChat - it was the safest way to get him to like me and keep giving me the love and attention. This had to stop.

It did, somehow. I distracted myself with other people and became Depressed. Death was the only thing I wanted and thought about as results day got closer. Death was the only thing I needed. It wasn't until results day when the sex came back and I was greeted with texts that was clearly his suggestion we fuck. I was too depressed though. The week after, however, and I fucked up massively and I was now officially hooked after we started speaking about it and I could no longer hide.

I could go on with details for the next few years, but I don't think it will ever summarise what happened between me and my abuser. The thing that still haunts me is when I went back to the school and he backed me into the corner by the window, touched me and demanded I show him my nude pictures. I did because I physically couldn't escape now. When I showed him, he hit on my friend and I fell into a pit of severe depression and had another panic attack. This was only a few days till I left for Uni and this was not what I needed. He touched me. My body. I felt weird. Strange. It tingled. It felt wrong, but right. I thought that's all I was worth.

I wish I could change what happened because after that, my health declined and he played me like a fool. He told me what I could say, dress, what I should look like. When I was proud of something, he took it away from me. He played my illness and treated me like a game. He dangled sex in front of me as if I was nothing to him. There may be no physical scars, but every night I lay awake terrified to sleep because I can't face another vivid dream of him - of what he did and how people wouldn't believe me. He would change all the time, acting sweet one minute, and a vile monster the next. It hurts, everyday.

I was abused. I'm not a victim, I'm a survivor. But I was still abused.

Toodles :)

Thursday, 9 June 2016

How To Tell If You've Fallen For A Total Narcissist

Hey Schneckens!
I bet you didn't expect to hear from me today and you wouldn't be alone in thinking that! I suddenly have a burst of creativity and ideas and I want to share them with the world. This sensation tends to only last for a few days though, so I wouldn't get too excited or worried! Also, listen to X Ambassadors' Eye of The Storm right now. It's incredible!

So you've clicked on here for a reason and that's to find out how you can tell if you've fallen for a total narcissist. Or dick. They're usually total dicks as well. What are we waiting for?! Oh right, I am the one typing. Alright, let's do this.

How To Tell If You've Fallen For A Total Narcissist:

1. At first, they sweet talk you until you get love diabetes ~ Metaphorically. It's a piss poor one, albeit, but it's a metaphor somehow. Basically, at first, they are so nice and sweet to you that you kinda start thinking - hey, this person is actually great. Why am I not humping their leg right now because clearly they are so lovely and are so into me! We're not dogs, but to the narcissist in question, they view us as that and they keep sweet talking us the way they would praise the dog.

2. Then they cast you aside ~ They love power our dear ol' narcissist and if they can play you like a game and win, they will play. Even if this is not a game to you and you had no intentions of playing because you genuinely liked them and thought they did too. But nah, they're more hot and cold than that Katy Perry song.

3. They make you cry. A lot. ~ For whatever reason, your tears make them feel like they're a god. The fact that they mean so much to you and they know that. They're power hungry bastards!

4. They brag about themselves ~ Whether it's a big dick or how much money they make, they won't shy away from parading themselves around. Even if you didn't ask for how big his penis or how much money she makes, somehow they'll drop it into a conversation. Yeesh.

5. They call/view themselves as God ~ Looking at you, Kanye..

6. They don't listen ~ They're so up in their own arse, that they can't hear anything but the shit they produce. Well, at least when it comes to criticism because the moment you compliment them and feed that ego, they sudden have the ability to hear and form a [one sided] conversation... about themselves.

7. Little empathy ~ As long as they're winning at something, they won't care who gets hurt in the process.

8. They need all the admiration ~ Different from the bragging, they need someone to feed their bragging. They need someone to tell them they are hot so they can go up to the next person and parade their so called hotness. It's a really shit domino theory.

9. Thinks they are better than EVERYONE ~  they have fantasies of and preoccupied with beauty, brilliance, ideal love, power, or unlimited success and a belief of being special and unique and can only be understood or a need to associate with people of high status. But even then, they still think they're better, even if Stephen Hawking is in the room.

10. They agree with what Kanye says ~ For fuck's sake, NO ONE AGREES WITH KANYE EXCEPT KANYE!

And there you have it! A list of how you might have fallen for a Narcissist. Good luck with that, when you leave them, I'll throw you party! And if you're into the narcissist still, I'll still throw you a party because love is love regardless!

Toodles :)

Wednesday, 8 June 2016

Music For Lovers

Hey Schneckens,

Sorry for silence, turns out I have a borderline personality disorder and that makes blogging super hard. Harder than an erect dick. Aaaaaand I'm back!

There's one thing many people diagnosed with BPD can agree with is that when it comes to love, no one will ever love you as much as someone with BPD. Granted, it can be unstable at times, but the love a BPD person will give is in a league of its own.
And love songs become a lot more deeper because of this.
When I was on my frenemy Facebook this morning, I came across a post with this thought provoking quote:
My first response was surely a person with BPD wrote this given the clear indication of how much love the woman in the quote describes. Sorry to be a party pooper for those currently in the honeymoon phase of a relationship, but it's very unlikely you love this person more than ANYONE in the ENTIRE world. Come on, are you honestly saying this person beats your parents/carers, friends, pet etc? It's okay, we've all been in love and said/felt it. But here's the kicker, with my last lover (boyfriend, partner etc - all the same) I am fairly certain that I loved him more than anyone in the entire world and here's why:

  1. I didn't communicate with anyone, bar him, for a consecutive number of days. Sorry, ma!

  2. If he told me to eat, take medication, go bathroom, I did it with no hesitation unlike anyone else advised I should. Again, sorry, ma!

  3. I worshipped him like he was a god - and not just sexually. I mean I generally worshipped him. Sorry, God!

  4. I started hating anyone who wasn't him and/or tried taking him from me - even if that was all a deluded fabrication and paranoia. Sorry, friends! And, ma, again..

  5. I actually nearly died for him..

And yes, as my psychiatrist points out, as well as everyone else in my life, that kind of love is unstable and not normal. I was clearly unwell at the time because believe it or not, not everyone with BPD does that and not all my past encounters with men went like that. Let's no label here, folks!
This then got me thinking about songs because like someone with BPD, songs also tend to be "dramatic, overly emotional or unpredictable" - looking not just at you, Swifty! Seriously, let's look away from Taylor Swift because, we get it, she writes about breakups and if a BPD person was to pyscho-anaylsise it, we'd be here all day, probably.
I'll first start with a song that I used to sing because it reminded me so much of the guy and that's Stooshe 'Black Heart'. If we actually speak the chorus instead of singing it, it's actually quite telling.
Daddy I've fallen for a monster
Somehow he's scaring me to death
He's big and he's bad
I love him like mad
Momma, he's the best I ever had
Daddy I've fallen for a monster
He got a black heart

The whole chorus is a whole juxtaposition and represents the whole idea of the intensity of a borderline relationship. In typical borderline relationships, one can go from idolising the person to hating them the next. Whilst many will just see this chorus as a typical 'he's a bad boy, but I love him' shtick, I see much of my last relationship. The fact that I saw him initially as a monster, yet ended up being in an explosive and unhealthy relationship with him. This all or nothing approach that he's the best I've ever had because no man has showed me this attention before and therefore it must be love, despite the fact I constantly switched my thoughts and feelings for him.
Next I want to look at Sia 'Fire Meet Gasoline'. It's really hard not to view this from a BPD perspective because of how intense the relationship is presented, which really shows my initial point that no one will ever love you as much as someone with BPD will.
I got all I need
When you came after me
Fire meet gasoline
I'm burning alive
And I can barely breathe,
When you're here loving me
Fire meet gasoline
Burn with me tonight

I think the chorus pretty much summarises that point well. They're both quite unhealthy together due to the intensity of the relationship and anyone with BPD can agree with me when I say that this all feels completely normal to us, that we think that this amount of love is what everyone experiences. Deep down it's because we're afraid that they'll leave us and we'll do anything to prevent it, even if the intensity of our love is the thing pushing them away. Ironic, huh!
Finally, let's look at a male shall we because it's not just women after all! I've chosen The Weeknd 'Wicked Games' because there is something about this song that shows the impulsive, self destructive, but desperate, love that many BPD sufferers find themselves in.
So tell me you love me
Only for tonight
Only for the night
Even though you don't love me
Just tell me you love me
I'll give you what I need
I'll give you all of me
Even though you don't love me

Sometimes a person with BPD can find themselves in the situation where they know the person doesn't feel the same way back, but the fear of being alone and the feeling of emptiness is something they don't want to feel. This was something, and still is, that I find myself struggling with - I'll take anything I can get because I can't stand being on my own and that's what causes such intense relationships and how many BPD sufferers end up on abusive relationships, something that happened to me with my last one.
So did we all have fun? I did, I like looking at songs from certain perspectives. Anyway, I'm off for more music, so if you have something that you want to share, do, let's start a conversation on Borderline and Love Songs!

Toodles :)

Monday, 14 March 2016

Mood Swings!!

How are you feeling today?
Most people will answer with: ‘fine’, ‘okay’, ‘alright’, ‘good’, ‘great’, ‘amazing’, ‘rubbish’, ‘sad’, ‘crap’ etc etc.
However, how often do you come across someone responding with ‘I don’t know’?
With mood disorders, such as Depression and Bipolar and certain Personality Disorders, like Borderline Personality Disorder, mood swings are common. Now hold up, having mood swings doesn’t mean you have a mental health disorder. In fact, mood swings are totally normal for any age or gender. Whether it’s hormone changes, periods, stress etc, mood swings will happen. But with those with a diagnosed mental health disorder, mood swings can vary and often will be extreme
What counts as extreme?
If I am to use the mood chart that I was given at Bipolar UK, this is how we rank moods:
So from this scale, there are 5 sections. The middle is what most people will feel on a daily basis and what someone with a mood disorder aims for in recovery. This is a balanced mood, so balanced = good. Towards the bottom of the scale is Depression and if someone if being diagnosed with Depression, the doctor will ask questions based on these symptoms to determine whether you’re Depressed and how severe. The top is Mania and for someone being diagnosed with Bipolar, a psychiatrist will ask questions based on these symptoms to see if you have Bipolar and what form of Bipolar. Basically, the top end is ‘oh no, they’ve lost complete touch with reality’ and the bottom end is ‘oh no, keep anything sharp or deadly away from them’. Well, a health care professional won’t put it so bluntly, but that’s pretty much what a 10 and 0 are. I’ve only been one of them – 0.
What happens when the moods change rapidly?
I mean, one day, say Wednesday when I was elected, I felt happy and overjoyed! But a mere day before, I was depressed and thoughts of self harm were popping up. How the hell does that work?! How can one day be like wanting to cut yourself to feeling like you’re on cocaine and having more energy than the people drinking more than you? This is called ‘Rapid Cycling’ and as you can guess, it means moods can change. Rapidly. It can happen in a day, or through a period of days, weeks or months etc, but days is when you really pinpoint it as rapid cycling and that’s something psychiatrists look for when assessing someone for a mood disorder, like Bipolar.
But what about this ‘I don’t know’ feeling?
That my friend is called a ‘mixed mood’ or something. For instance, on Friday, I phoned my friend up, crying hysterically, wanting to hurt myself. That makes me depressed, right? Buuuuuuut, my thoughts were racing and I had loads of energy, so that makes me Hypomanic? This is why a lot of people with mood disorders don’t tend to follow this scale because whilst it gives healthcare professionals an outline on what to assess, it doesn’t always fit our moods. What was I on Friday? Was I depressed or was I hypomanic? Mixed moods are the worst because of that constant questioning and not knowing how to answer the ‘how are you today’ question. On Friday, I had loads of energy, but it was being turned into negative energy because of the depressed feelings, making me very agitated and unable to cope with how I was feeling. I managed to calm down and now I feel alright, but mixed moods are difficult to discuss and pull apart, making diagnosis and treatments harder.
Below are some pics of my moods, try and work out what my mood was (I have never been full on manic, so you are looking for – Depressed, Hypomania, Happy, Mixed and Balanced) Move your mouse over them and see if you’re right!
 So what did we learn from this – apart from that I am a tad unpredictable atm? (Sorry to everyone who communicates with me in someway, I promise I still like you, even when I want to kick you in the kneecaps!) Who knows what you learned! But I hope you can understand more about mood swings for someone with a mood disorder and not be a dick about it when someone is clearly having a bad day or days. Telling someone to cheer up or something is stupid, utterly stupid, regardless if they have a mental health disorder or not. Cheer them up if it’s bugging you so much, but don’t be a dick about it because they probably know they’re feeling a bit crappy and don’t need you moaning about it!
Toodles :)