He cut himself out of my life with a scalpel. I don’t know why, and I won’t assign a motive. All I know is it correlated with my July 2018 diagnosis of Bipolar and BPD. I lost my current home, my husband, my in-laws, and my self-respect.
So why do I bring it up? Almost three years ago, I lost everything that mattered in my life. Life gave me lemons.
I’m now drinking excellent lemonade.
I’m here to share the changes and challenges I had to face to get to the lemonade.
Phase 1: Terror
In July 2018, I sat in a psychiatrist’s office just outside Placerville, CA. Question after question bombarded me, about everything from family history of disorders to self-harm came up. This time, I didn’t hide anything from the psych doctor sitting in front of her desktop computer. Not even the fact that I did self-harm (by biting).
Nearly two hours after the start, the questions stopped. The psychiatrist paused, then said, “I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say.”
Correct. However, “I’m not here because I want to hear it. I’m here because I need to hear it,” I replied.
That’s when the bomb dropped. ADHD was a thing of the past and in reality nothing at all. I had Bipolar, along with Borderline Personality disorder. Can you say terrible person? I certainly did. I’m not talking about the shrink, either.
I told my now ex, and he noped out of my life. That’s when I hit…
Phase 2: I Don’t Care
After August 2018, I wanted my diagnoses gone. I wanted my emotions gone. I wanted my normal back. I wanted my husband back.
I did my best to shut off emotions entirely. I turned to my mind to hide from my heart. It worked! For a few months. Really, I buried my emotions in the closet of my mind where they festered and grew into a beast I later had to face.
I’ll get to that in another post.
For now, just know that using intellect to process emotions only works to a small degree. I have since learned that feelings are feelings and thoughts are thoughts. They must be observed and processed differently.
During Phase 2, I had to keep moving. I had to find a job to support myself. I found one in a haunted straw maze near Rexburg ID. After that, I spent several months at a thrift store.
My next several posts will discuss the rest of this journey back to stability and sanity.