Tag Archives: Suicide

When Intense Emotions Take Over My Mind

Okay, this year’s #AtoZChallenge didn’t work out. I knew it would be tough writing about autism and related disorders when myself undergoing re-assessment for autism. It didn’t help that, from the E-mail I received on the day I posted my theme reveal, it became clear that I will not have an answer before the end of April. That wasn’t the reason I haven’t written at all since April 1 though. The real reason was my mental health.

Like I mentioned, I have been rather anxious and depressed lately. It however got extreme over the past two weeks. This likely isn’t a worsening of my depression as much as it is emotional dysregulation. That doesn’t make it less real though.

About two weeks ago, I started being more irritable and having more dark, death-related and suicidal thoughts than I had before. I had had almost-daily dark thoughts for a few months, but now they became more than daily. I also started making more concrete plans for a final step. Before then, there had been bizarre images in my head of how I’d die by crucifying myself over the staircase at home and such. These had appeared a bit laughable even to my twisted mind. Now, I started making plans and the before then bizarre-sounding thoughts didn’t seem that ridiculous anymore.

I wandered out of the house at home last week Saturday. Thankfully, my husband came back from where he’d been within aobut fifteen minutes and I was fine. Then on Sunday I had a very bad argument with my named nurse that ended in me melting down.

On Monday, I decided I’d stop taking my medication. I didn’t take my morning meds other than birth conrol and vitamin D (because I wanted to take birth control and couldn’t tell the two apart) on Tuesday. I spiraled out of control that same afternoon. This, for your information, can’t have been from withdrawal yet.

The reason I quit taking my medication was that I’d been having these dark thoughts for a while already and yet I felt I was too drugged up to express them. I don’t mean that I wanted to tell the world, like I’m doing now, but I wanted to be able to cry. And cry I did. I also felt like maybe, if I stopped taking my meds, I’d feel some kind of motivation again. I take a high dose of an antipsychotic, which admittedly the psychiatrist says can’t cause flat affect. I also take an antidepressant, but I’d forgotten why I’d been prescribed it (in 2010!) and it had never been reviewed.

Admittedly, there was also a part in me that wanted to signal to my staff that I wasn’t coping. That didn’t really work. My psychologist said that, if I wanted to be taken seriously about my mood, I needed to take my meds. Not that she’s ever taken me seriously about my mood, unless writing depression NOS into my diagnosis counts, which I don’t feel it does. She also told me that I sabotage the independent assessment if I don’t take my meds. I don’t like to admit it but that was one reason I started taking them again on Saturday. I hate to admit I give in to authoritarian manipulation, but I do.

on Wednesday, I started experiencing what I believe are brain zaps – a kind of weird dizzy spell caused by antidepressant withdrawal. I at first thought they were a side effect of a failed attempt at an overdose. They weren’t. By Friday, they occurred about every minute. I was then ready to start my antidepressant again, but wasn’t sure I could safely go back on it after five days. The nurses had to ask the on-duty doctor or some kind of head nurse or whoever and I didn’t get an answer till Saturday afternoon. Now I feel so stupid for havng bothered the nurses with this question on a week-end. I am glad for no more brain zaps though. I did also start back on the anitpsychotic. Not because I want to be on it, but because it seems I need to.

Since late Thursday evening, I’ve felt relatively well. I still experience anxiety and depression, but my emotions aren’t as out-of-control as they were before. Some things that helped were one nurse taking me on walks and allowing me to use her boxing equipment to blow off some steam. It sucks that I can’t do this at home.

A Thank You Letter to a Bus Driver

This is getting old, but I have been extremely uninspired lately. It’s like everytime I try to do blogging in Dutch again, I neglect this blog. It wasn’t even so much that I didn’t want to write, but I didn’t kow what to write about. A few days ago, however, I saw a blog post in which a person wrote a thank you letter to their genetic counselor. Other people were invited to write thank you letters to people you wouldn’t expect they’d be thankful for. This got me thinking. At first, I wanted to write a thank you letter to the psychiatrist who admitted me to hospital in 2007. While writing this letter, however, I thought of another person who was important to me that night: the bus driver who overheard me make a suicidal threat and called the police. I am writing a letter to him today.

Dear bus driver,

You may have forgotten about me. At least, I hope you have. Thhat’d mean you didn’t experience too much stress from what I did while on your bus. I haven’t forgotten about you. I don’t know your name, but I want to thank you anyway.

I was the person who threatened to kill herself while sitting on your bus on the evening of November 2, 2007. I told someone’s voicemail the details of my suicide plan. You overheard me, although a fellow passenger said you merely heard me cry. She probably just said that to quiet my mind. I heard you tell the police that you would be at the train station by 8:15 PM. By that, I judged I’d got onto the 8:01 bus at the bus stop near the training home I used to reside in. You dropped me off at the train station and the police took over and took me to the police station, where I was seen by the mental health crisis service.

I want you to know that I’m well now. I’m not fully recovered from my mental illness, but I’m a lot better than I was back then. I remembered you for years, which was causing me to find it hard to travel the bus in your city. I feared I’d run into you. Now, I know that you did your job and you did it well.

I could bore you with a long story of my mental illness and recovery, but that would probably stress you out. In case you’re wondering, however, I want you to be assured that I’m happy that I didn’t kill myself that evening. Now I know that, somewhere between the bus and where I wanted to kill myself, someone probably would’ve stepped in before I would actually be dead. However, you happened to be that person to step in. Thank you for that.

Astrid

Tips for Coping with Suicidal Thoughts

Screw you, #BEDN. I screwed up the day after I planned to continue writing everyday this month. Yesterday was a bit stressful. I baked an apple pie to remember the eighth anniversary of my psychiatric institutionalization, but I also felt overwhelemd with memories from the day of my crisis. In addition, yesterday was designed to be plan your epitaph day by the inventors of weird holidays. I only found out through this week’s #TuesdayTen. I was originally planning on writing a post on tips for coping with suicidal thoughts for #TuesdayTen, but the pressure of having to think up ten coping strategies and the doubts as to whether it’d fit in, made me skip the occasion. The idea stuck around though, so I’m going to write down some coping tips today.

The first important key is realizing when depression or despair sets in before you reach rock bottom. When you are acutely suicidal, most of the tips I’ll mention below will sound completely useless. However, if you’ve realized you are depressed or otherwise severely distressed, you may be able to enlist the help of others in staying safe. Here are some tips that can help you through some suicidal ideation. When you are actively planning suicide, these tips may no longer work and you’ll need to go to the emergency room or psychiatric crisis service.

1. Enlist the support of family or friends. Like I already said, supporters, such as family may be able to help you remember why you want to live. If not, they may be able to intervene to keep you safe whilst getting a mental health professional involved. When I was in my crisis in 2007, I had no support in the city I was in at the time. That is, I had my parents, but they weren’t particularly helpful (and I honestly can’t fully blame them) at the time.

2. If you don’t have family or friends to support you, there are support sites and telephone hotlines for people in crisis around the world. While again, if you are in acute danger, you need to go to the emergency department or psychiatric crisis service, when you are still able to talk it through, do so.

3. Think of what your goals are, what you want to get or avoid with suicide. Obviously, religious beliefs about an afterlife aside, you won’t gain anything from suicide. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t seem like it. Some people believe: “At least I’ll be able to rest then.” In this sense, what you want to avoid through suicide is important too. Discuss with your family or a mental health professional how you can reach this goal while remaining alive. For example, I knew as I was talking to the crisis service psychiatrist in 2007 that I didn’t really want to die – I mean, who wants to? -, but that I couldn’t cope with my life as it was anymore.

4. Think of the people you’ll leave behind. No, I don’t mean thinking of them having to make funeral arrangements and how selfish you are for leaving your family with the financial burden. That is not going to be helpful. Just for your information, as a family member, don’t ever burden a suicidal relative with this kind of crap, no matter how confident you are that they are “just doing it for attention”. However, if you do have people you still care about when you’re in despair, thinking about them can help lift your mood. Despair is an incredibly lonely feeling, but there are people who care about you.

5. Be careful about chanigng medications or other treatments for depression while you are actively suicidal. Though electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) is relatively safe for severely depressed people, antidepressants carry the risk of increasing suicidality. Always be sure to discuss suicidal ideation with your mental health professional and don’t change your medication regimen without close supervision, preferably from a psychiatrist.

Breakdown: My Crisis of 2007 #Write31Days

31 Days of Mental Health

Welcome to day 30 in the #Write31Days challenge on mental health. Today, I discussed the details of the mental crisis that I had in 2007 with a nurse. This helped me feel heard but it also was a bit unsettling. I vividly remember many of the details. I feel compelled to share my story here, but I don’t know how safe a public blog on the Internet is to do so. I shared the details in a post on my old blog (which can still be more easily found by googling my name than this blog) about a month after the crisis happened. I published the raw story back then, complete with every detail of where I was and what I did. I edited it more than a year later for fear it’d ruin my chances of ever having a normal life. If future employers (of which I think I’ll have none) ever read that I’m a nut case and spent eight years in a mental institution, they’ll reject me no matter how vividly I describe the crisis that led to said institutionalization. That being said, the original story was quite badly written. I don’t want to read even the edited version now. I’ll just share what I feel like sharing now.

I remember the crisis state started right after daylight saving time ended on October 28, 2007. Of course, I was spiraling down into crisis from the moment I started livign on my own in August and I had a minor crisis about once a week. The week of October 29, I started completley losing my mind. I wandered about in the dark each evening. The police took me to the police station a couple of times that week and called the crsis service, but they couldn’t do anything.

In the afternoon of October 31, I was called by the crisis service. I still remember the name of the crisis service nurse calling me and if I ever run into her again, which is unlikely, I’m not going to be pleased. She told me that I just had to find ways to distract myself and that a hospitalization would mean I needed to go back on medication. (I’d quit an antipsychotic three weeks prior. No-one later on drew the connection.) I didn’t care about going on medication one way or the other, but I couldn’t mutter a proper response.

On November 1, I took a trip to my parents’ city to collect a landline phone. I don’t have a clue why I had to sleep over there for a night just to collect a phone. On the way back to my city the next day, I had a huge meltdown. This wasn’t unusual for me when returning to my city from my parents’, but for the first time, the railroad service employee who was assisting me to get on the train back to my city, called the police. I hardly realized I was speaking to the police when they told me to leave the station. I wasn’t sure what to do at first, so wandered around. I remember somoene, no clue who, told me that if I could behave, I could come back to the station and get on the train to my city.

I decided to go to the training home which I’d been a client of before going into independent living. I was allowed in, but once the staff found out the police had been called on me, they asked me to leave. I can’t remeber what I did throughout the afternoon. I was supposed to have an early train, but didn’t end up in my ultimate crisis till 8:00 PM. I remember getting some French fries at a cafeteria near the training home and calling my independent livign support worker that I’d forgotten to pay my rent for November the day before.

A housemate from the training home offered me to stay with her for the night so that we could find a solution the next morning. The staff went into her apartment and told me to leave. They initially gave me some time, but I left instantly and had the hugest breakdown I’ve ever had. I was hardly aware of my surroundings as I told some people’s voicemails that I was going to commit suicide. I inferred the time from what the bus driver, on whose bus I’d embarked, told the police. It was the 8:01 PM bus around the eastern part of the city (in that city, buses go in circular routes or at least they did back then).

I was taken to the police station by the police again. This time I was in my parents’ city so the route to crisis services was even longer. The police had to call a community physician who was the most umempahtetic jerk of a doctor I’d met by that time. (I later was treated by an authoritarian psychiatric resident, but she never had to talk to me in the midst of a crisis.) The doc told me I was making people feel responsible. While I can see eight years on that he was right, I couldn’t grasp this back then. I don’t remember my response. The community physician called the crisis service. I have recurrent dreams about the psychiatrist, the only one whose name I remember. In my dreams, I run into her again as I get treated at the mental health agency near the tiny village I’m moving to.

I am a million times thankful that this psychiatrist didn’t stick the BPD diagnosis on me, even though in retrospect my crisis could be interpreted as a typical BPD thing. Instead, she talked to me – she showed much more empathy than the community physician and eventually labeled me with adjustment disorder, which basically means an extreme response to stress. She suggested I be admitted and right away clarified that a suitable living solution would need to be found for me while I was in the hospital. No-one could’ve known back then that it’d take eight years and I’d be going to live independently once again after that.

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Mental Illness and Attitude #Write31Days

31 Days of Mental Health

Welcome to day 9 in the #Write31Days challenge on mental health. I should honestly be writing my posts earlier in the day, as once again I’m very tired. I also don’t read the other 31-dayers nearly as often as I should. Today though, I caught up with Anita Ojeda’s 31 Glimpses Into the Unquiet Mind. This is a series of posts on Anita’s daughter Sarah’s experience of depression and an eating disorder. What shocked me today was how both Sarah and her mother initially confused mental illness iwith a negative attitude.

Like I said before, I have in some ways always had mental health problems. I was often thought of as having a bad attitude, being selfish and lazy. Though I didn’t experience my mental health problems causing me to self-blame a lot, I did internalize other people’s blame of me.

I remember when I was admitted to the psychiatric unit in 2007, getting many comments from family and relatives that essentially said I was just having a bad attitude. I was, in a way. I was very much a pain in the butt for a long time, like many people with borderline personality disorder. I was myself responsible for the negativity I spread, whether I was mentally ill or not, but that didn’t mean that all I needed was a good kick in the pants.

Let’s face it: mental illness is an isolating experience. It can actually turn otherwise cheerful people into bitter ones. It can amplify the pessimism in people who already have a negative attitude to begin with. Please remember, even though people choose their behavior, they don’t choose to have a mental illness.

Also please realize that a mental illness sucks away energy from the person it affects. When you can hardly make it out of bed, you’re going to have especially little energy for being polite and cheerful towards others.

Many people erroneously believe mental illness is a weakness of the will. Though mildly depressed or anxious people can sometimes will themselves into keeping up appearances, those with more severe mental illness cannot. For your information: mental illness is not a weakness of chracter. Note for example that optimistic peope can be afflicted with depression. If depression and other mental illnesses are a weakness of character, only those who naturally gravitate towards negativism will develop them.

When relatives, perhaps in an attempt to be helpful, try to tell the mentally ill person to get their shit together, this may actually cause the person with mental health problems to fall deeper into despair. I received some particularly harsh comments that may’ve been meant to blow some sense into me, but they did the exact opposite. When I was suicidal, I reasoned that if my relatives were more concerned with the costs of my hypothetical funeral than with my state of despair, why should I live on?

I know it’s hard to have a relative with a mental illness. It is hard watching them spiral down into the pit of depression or other mental health problems, especially if they take out their despair on you. Don’t take your despair out on them in return. It may be wise to seek support from family or friends or perhaps other families of mentally ill people so that you can keep supporting your relative in a positive way. Remember that you aren’t a mental health professional, so you can’t drag your relative out of mental illness. Not that a mental health professional can, but you get the idea. Your helpful advice may be taken the wrong way, and this is through no fault of your own or the mentally ill person’s. It just happens and you’ll need to let it go.

How Far I’ve Come on My Mental Health Journey #Write31Days

31 Days of Mental Health

Welcome to day 4 in the #Write31Days challenge. Sorry for being a bit late to publish my post. Today, I’m sharing a personal post, describing how far I’ve come on my journey of learning to cope with mental illness.

I sought mental health help for the first time in early 2007. I was severely behaviorally disturbed at the time, having aggressive meltdowns several times a week. Though I didn’t physially attack other people, I was quite verbally aggressive and threw objects a lot. This behavior lessened with some counseling from a community psychiatric nurse and eventually medication, but it didn’t completely disappear.

When I was admitted to the psychiatric unit on NOvember 3, 2007, I was seriously suicidal. I had spiraled down into a crisis while living independently. I at the time showed classic borderline behavior, making suicidal threats when I was seriously distressed. I no longer threw objects as much as I’d done before, but I was still verbally aggressive.

After about three months on the locked unit, my disturbed behavior became less severe, but I still had many milder meltdowns. I’d also display rigid behavior. For example, I had a crisis prevention plan and i’d tell the nurses when they weren’t following it. Now the staff at that unit were quite authoritarian, so I was threatened with seclusion for telling staff they weren’t following the rules. I don’t see this as disturbed behavior on my part now, but I do see how, in the insane place of a psychiatric hospital, it was.

My meltdowns and outbursts didn’t lessen in frequency till I went back on medication in early 2010. It also helped that I’d transferred to the less restrictive resocialization unit. I eventually was quite stable there on a moderate dose of an antipsychotic and a low dose of an antidepressant. I still had my moments where I’d act out, but they were manageable.

This changed when I transferred to my current long-term unit in 2013. I transferred in the summer, so there were often fewer staff available. I also couldn’t cope with the fact that my part of the unit was often left to our own resources when the staff were catering to the needs of the presumably less independent people on the other floor. I started eloping regularly, something I’d previously done sometimes but not nearly as often as I did now. At one point, it eventually led to the staff considering having me transferred to the locked unit. That fortunately never happened. Instead, my antipsychotic was increased to eventually the highest dose. I have been relatively stable for about nine months now.

What helped me along this way was a building of mutual trust and cooperation. An example was that the staff would often offer to allow me into the comfort room when distressed. At the resocialization unit, when I’d have severe meltdowns, I’d be transferred to the locked unit and made to sit in their comfort room. Their comfort room was really a reconstructed seclusion area and there was little comfort to be found. Consequently, I saw the comfort room as punishment, but on my current unit, it isn’t. We have a really good comfort room which is truly calming. I learned to realize that the offer to have me sit in there was an offer for help, not punishment.

Eight years into my mental institutionalization, I still cannot say I have fully overcome my destructive ways. They have significantly lessened, but I still have my moments. That probably won’t be over with for a long while.

In Which I Describe My Views on Euthanasia

Over at Bad Cripple, William Peace wrote an interesting post on assisted suicide. On my old blog, I had an entire category of posts on end-of-life issues, but here, I never discussed my views on euthanasia and assisted suicide as far as I remember.

I live in the Netherlands, the world’s first country to legalize euthanasia. Just days ago, I wrote on my Dutch blog about a book about a GP’s daily practice, in which he openly discusses euthanasia. I also read this book a few years ago that exclusively diiscusses a GP’s take on this topic. The subtitle of the book calls this GP an “euthanasia physician”.

Unlike Peace, I am not principly opposed to euthanasia or assisted suicide. I do realize there are people who are not pressured at all to kill themselves but want to die anyway. This includes people with a diagnosed medical condition as well as people who are “suffering life”.

I do, however, recognize the explicit and implicit discrimination in euthanasia-related law and ethics. People with terminal cancer can be euthanized if they so desire without much further ado. Infants with severe birth defects can be euthanized shortly after birth if the parents want this. However, a case where a doctor assisted in the suicide of a person who was “suffering life”, led to criminal charges.

The law in the Netherlands says, among other things, that a person must experience unbearable and hopeless suffering to be considered eligible for euthanasia. It isn’t stated that this suffering should be because of a diangosed medical condition. However, “suffering” is such a subjective, vague concept. Everyone suffers sometimes. In a society that is dominated by currently non-disabled people, however, it is a common assumption that people with disabilities suffer more than those without them.

As I said, I for one do not principly oppose euthanasia. It’s a much better, less painful way to end your life than conventional suciide methods. I do not say I advocate suicide – it’s a very sad, tragic thing. I also do feel that people who are suicidal need to be helped in every way possible to overcome these feelings. The thing is, we cannot fully prevent suicide.

What I do oppose is doctors suggesting euthanasia. About ten years ago, there was a case of a child born with severe spina bifida whose doctor suggested euthanizing the child. The doctor happened to be my former neonatologist, the one who said in 1986 that they were just keeping me alive and not to interfere, and who said in 2004 that he wonders about some preemies what the heck he’s done keeping them alive. The parents, like Heather Kiln Lanier and her husband (linked to in Peace’s article), believed the doctor was pushing them to consent to euthanasia, which led to a formal complaint. The doctor defended himself in the media, saying it was “just a suggestion”. Well, I do understand doctros have some say in euthanasia because they have to provide the means, but I think they only should be countering patients’ wishes when they do not want to euthanize them. Research on preemies, after all, shows that doctors are more opposed to aggressive treatments and want fewer preemies to be allowed to live than parents.

Speaking of parents, I mean no offense to Heather Kiln Lanier, but parents should not have the right to decide to have their children euthanized. As I said, newborns in the Netherlands can be euthanized under the so-called Groningen Protocol. Babies and children under twelve cannot, or maybe now they can, because the last time I checked on this topic was about a year ago. In any case, doctors are advocating allowing euthanasia on children under twelve with parental consent. You could say that a newborn does not have anything to want as they don’t have self-awareness (this is philosopher Peter Singer’s argument for infanticide). You could not say the same of a child. They may not have the cognitive ability to make informed decisions on medical treatment, but the darn well know when their parents want to have them killed.

I am almost anti-parent when it comes to this. Thankfully, parents like Kiln Lanier allow me to see how much some parents can fight for their children’s right to a fullfilling life with as little discrimination against them as possible. Kiln Lanier definitely respects her daughter’s right to self-determination.

My view on euthanasia basically comes down to this: no-one can decide for another person that they suffer so much that they should be “allowed” to die. Doctors only have the means to providde euthanasia, so they should be allowed to refuse to do it when a patient asks for it. However, they should never suggest a person be euthanized.

This does mean that children and people with cognitive impairmetns usually won’t be able to get euthanized. So be it. I’d rather keep a few people alive against their will than risk killing people who don’t want it. And just for your information, peoople with even the most severe cognitive impairments do have self-awareness, so sod your Singerian arguments there.

Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness: BPD Explained

May is mental health month in the United States. It is also borderline personality disorder awareness mnth. BPD is my current diagnosis. I have written a few posts on this condition already, but most required some previous knowledge of BPD or mental illness in general. In honor of mental health month and BPD awareness month, I am going to write about my experiences with mental illness in this post and will share facts along the way.

I have always struggled with rapidly shifting emotions and mood swings. If it had been popular at the time and my parents had sought help for me, I might’ve been diagnosed with a childhood-onset mood disorder. I do not have bipolar disorder or major depression now, but these conditions are thought to affect children differently. In the current edition of the psychiatrist’s manual, the DSM-5, there is a diagnosis for children with severe mood swings, dysphoric (sad or angry) moods and extreme temper tantrums. This disorder is called disruptive mood dysregulation disorder. It is thought not to be lifelong, as it can only be diagnosed in children under age eleven.

I remember as a child of about nine already experiencing suicidal thoughts and making suicidal threats, particularly during meltdowns or tantrums. This is not necessairly a sign that the child is going to attemtp suicide – I never did -, but this is also not just “attention-seeking”. It is, in fact, a sign that a child is in serious distress.

Making repeated suicidal threats or attempting suicide is one of the core symptoms of borderline personality disorder. It is commonly thought that most people with BPD only threaten suicide and “aren’t serious about it”. In fact, however, about ten percent of people with this diagnosis die of suicide.

As a teen, I started self-injuring. Self-injury is also a core feature of BPD. This may have many functions other than “attention-seeking”. Of course, some people with BPD do not know how to ask for attention and instead use self-harm as a way to get it. Even then, attention is a human need and withholding it altogether will not usually solve the problem. Other functions of self-injury may include to express pain, to numb out feelings or conversely to feel something when one is feeling empty or numb.

Chronic feelings of emptiness are another symptom of BPD. Generally, a person with BPD is somewhat depressed or numb. This feeling of numbness is also common with major depression, post-traumatic stress disorder and dissociative disorders, all of which commonly co-occur with BPD.

Dissociation is the feeling of being disconnected from oneself, one’s thoughts or feelings or one’s surroudnings. Symptoms of dissociation, particularly depersonalization (feeling “unreal”), are common in many mental illnesses. The most well-known specific dissociative disorder is dissociative identity disorder, also known as multiple personality disorder. My former therapist, who diagnosed me with BPD, believed that BPD and DID/MPD are on the same spectrum.

Paranoia is also common in people with BPD. However, as opposed to people with schizophrenia or related disorders, people with borderline personality disorder experience paranoia only briefly when under stress. For example, when I am overwhelmed with eotions, I tend to mistrust people and situations, while I am not usually paranoid.

Lastly, people with BPD have difficulties in relationships. Firstly, they often have an intense fear of abandonment and go to great lengths to prevent people from leaving them. Some may push people away (“I abandon you before you can abandon me”). Others, like me, are excessively clingy. People with BPD may also alternate between idolizing and devaluing the people who are important to them.

No two people with BPD or any other mental illness are alike. For a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, you only need to meet five out of nine criteria. I meet between six and eight depending on how you look at it.

Borderline personality disorder bears similarities to post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociatve disorders and mood disorders, particularly bipolar. However, the difference between bipolar and borderline personality disorder is that people with bipolar disorder experience long-lasting mood episodes, whereas people with BPD have rapidly-shifting moods. BPD cannot be diagnosed in children, although of course they can have mood swings. They may then be diagnosed with disruptive mood dysregulation disorder. Psychiatrists are beginning to diagnose BPD in adolescents starting at arund age fifteen. This is good, because, the earlier someone gets treated, the more likely they are to reach recovery.

Celebrating Myself #PreemieBlessings14

November, in the United Stats, is prematurity awareness month. In honor of preemies and prematurity awarness month, Michelle over at Preemie Blessings has started a challenge. Her first challenge is to answer on one of your social media networks who you are celebrating during prematurity awareness month. Now most preemie bloggers are parents so will mention their children. I’m not a parent, but a preemie myself, and I am just going to be bold and celebrate my very own self!

November is a tough month for me usually. It means adjusting to the end of daylight saving time, the start of colder weather and, well, fall and winter blues. November 2 also marks the anniversary of my first suicide note in 2001 and my suicidal crisis in 2007 which led to my psychiatric institutionalization. I know what it is like to feel like I no longer want to live, but I also know what it is like to feel like a surviovr, and to celebrate it!

I was born at somewhere between 25 and 26 weeks gestation in June of 1986. During my three months in neonatal care, I endured various complications. From one of them, retinopathy of prematurity, I’ve been legally blind all my life and am now totally blind. The others are a mystery in some ways. I had a possible brain bleed, but it wasn’t suspected until hydrocephalus was diagnosed in November. You know, they didn’t do CT-scans or MRIs routinely back then. I also had a lung infection when I was still in the NICU and RSV when I’d been home a few months, but not sure whether I had the A’s and B’s (apnea and bradycardia) that so many preemie parents worry about.

I once read this inaugural speech by a professor of neonatology or something, who said that lung problems, retinopathy of prematurity and brain bleeds are the three conditions that predict poor outcome in preemies. I don’t know whether this professor drew the connection, but I did draw one between poor outcome and “quality of life” and further worried that babies with all three conditions, like myself, should not be allowed to survive.

I still struggle with the thought that I shouldn’t have survived and with suicidal ideation at times. Life is tough sometimes, especially now that I’m worrying about the upcoming cuts to care that will take effect in 2015. I worry that I’ll be left to my own resources, like I was in 2007, and that I will fall into a crisis again. This worry has almost led to a mini-crisis already.

But let’s move on to the positive. I celebrate myself and my life, after all. Here are some things that make my life worth living.


  • Being married to my wonderful husband.

  • The support from people on social networking sites.

  • Being able to read Preemie Blessings and so many other lovely blogs.

  • The Internet in general.

  • Being able to express myself in writing.

  • My creativity and the help I get at day activities to express it.

  • My faith.


Today, I can say I’m glad to be alive. I say this with a bit of a knot in my throat, but I say it nonetheless.

How I Want to Be Remembered

I’ve neglected the recovery challenge for about a week, because I had so many other things to do and so many other things that inspired me to write. I just wrote but then deleted a post for word of the week on memories, and this reminded me to pick off again. Day five of the recovery challenge, after all, asks how you want to be remembered

I’ve been one to always be conscious of the fact that life isn’t endless. IN 2008, I experienced a period where I was convinced I wouldn’t make it to the end of the year. I have some hypochondriac tendencies, and at the time I was afraid that what later turned out to be a benign condition (eithe rirritable bowel syndrome or pelvic floor dysfunction), was cancer. I wasn’t one to go to the doctor easily, so it wasn’t till four years later that I got checked out.

I have also had suicidal ideation on more occasions than I’d like to admit. I never made a serious suicide attempt, but I did seriously consider it.

Nonjetheless, during these times of realizing how short and final life is, I never really thought about my legacy. Usually, I was either too depressed to think about anything beyond my death, or I didn’t really see death as the end. I don’t know how to explain that latter one. I also often didn’t feel that people would remember me if I died.

When I look deep inside of me, I want people to remember me when I’m gone, but how I want to be remembered, is a hard one. I don’t want people to be sad that I’m gone, because, well, who wishes sadness upon others? And yet in another way, I want people to be sad that they lost me, because I want to be cherished.

I remember when I was at my worst with respect to suicidality, I got some comments from people saying I should not kill myself because my family would have to pay for and arrange the funeral. That reminded me that, as I was at the time, I’d be remembered as a burden. I didn’t have my husband back then, so now even though the same people might still remember me as a burden, I might be remembered lovingly by someone.

I can say, as I did above, how I don’t want to be remembered. It is much harder to say how I do want people to remember me. This ties in with the question about things you like about yourself that was asked earlier in the challenge. For example, I want people to remember me as a creative person. Then again, it creeps me out to have my blog (assuming blogs still exist by the time I die) stay online beyond my death. I honestly don’t know whether I want to be remembered as an intelligent or stubborn person, although these are more likely qualities for people to describe me by than my creativity.

More importantly though than any qualities people remember of me, I want people to remember they liked me, and that is still very hard. I don’t have any friends and don’t have a particularly good relationship with my family. Also, I have a hard time believing even my husband likes me, so yeah, it’s hard to fathom that anyone would hold me in loving memory when I’m gone. At least I can work towards being a likeable person.