Suggested audio: Lounge Act by Nirvana
Don’t tell me what I wanna hear
Afraid of never knowing fear
Experience anything you need
I’ll keep fighting jealousy
Until it’s fucking gone
An unpleasant trait of BPD is envy so I shared my thoughts and coping techniques. It affects everybody, especially with the rise of social media, however people with BPD actually feel it like a physical thing.
I woke up startled after a very lucid dream. It validated a difficulty I have had since I don’t know when: envy. I gave the green eyed monster that lurks under my bed a good old throat punch then battered it with a glass touch lamp. Bruised, it scuttled back beneath my Silent Night haven.
I then pissed like a camel and guzzled a bowl of cereal, naturally spilling milk down my chin! Three coffees and a hug from both my husband and guinea pigs later I sat on my “special needs” cushion (enough said) and switched my brain into low power mode so I could cogitate.
The dream consisted of family members showering someone with nauseating praise. Alluding they were as perfect as an avocado and everyone else agreed so. Meanwhile I trudged behind them retching and stole a bottle of Pepto Bismol from the cool pharmacy that sells Casio calculator watches. Fuckkit, should have filled my swag bag with the silver one. I’ll make a mental note for next time.
I was still kayaking up a river of puke as it flowed past King’s College Hospital and The Maudsley psychiatric hospital in Camberwell. Two places I have frequented. Had a record breaking amount of CBT in the Maudsley (why didn’t The Guiness Book Of Records contact me?) where we sometimes sat on the daisy splattered grass having what I deemed nature therapy. Showing my psychologist how to do quadrat squares as I typically deviated from the matter at hand and bounced from subject to subject like Zebedee on crack. Something I’ve subjected people to since my first words and still do.
I awoke with a start and bile in my throat made my nose crinkle. What the hell was that about? I get envious, thanks for the sadistic reminder brainless brain. Now I’ve got to get up because I’m too skinned alive to go back to sleep. I flicked on the kettle with the force of slamming down a coffin lid and prepared a mighty bowl of Ready Brek. A childhood favourite oatmeal that has become my binge eating supply lately. Better for me than salted caramel Galaxies I suppose.
I browsed online and found this nugget of information on Psych Central – “some individuals with BPD have strong and overpowering emotions, it is possible that someone may find their feelings of envy or jealousy difficult to control as well“. Hmmm. So my intense and challenging thoughts and feelings include envy. But doesn’t most people have a twinge of this Deadly Sin? I think so. Maybe I FEEL it at a deeper level, like I’ve been head butted by a wayward unicorn. Slapped across the face by a callous dolphin. Whipped within an inch of my sanity by the tail of a coyote bitch with PMS.
Okay, time to get out my Dialectical Behavioural Therapy book and see what it has to offer. Cognitive behavioural therapy, coffee and a packet of HobNobs to get my mind pumping up more than Belgian dance act Technotronic pumped up the jam in 1989.
It’s an excellent resource to use when I have confusing moments. When my mind has been whisked into a cannibalistic liquid diet supplement. I use the same multicolored pens used for my daily journal as each colour is handy to convey mood. From black pudding black to happy-go-lucky yellow. Red is the danger zone and green is utter serenity. I never use my 80s Fungus the Bogeyman ruler to outline charts because I’m too lazy and prefer imperfections to clinical conditions.
Cards on the table and I then sit back and read through what’s been explored. I quickly realise that I’ve got a helluva lot to be thankful for as opposed to being envious of and it seems that most of it stems from a long standing problem with my self esteem, murky sense of self and how I relate to others. So I’ve been taught. It all adds up and is “normal” for me. I do tire of that word. And I tire of myself. Yet at the same time self exploration is what preserves my sanity and keeps my head above the water.
Exploring who you are, whatever your diagnosis, is an indispensable tool to help yourself and your loved ones live with psychological dysfunction.
© Copyright: Sharon Lawson™