There are other factors critical to getting a diagnosis, and these factors are contingent on me.
Humility: I have to be willing to accept whatever help is offered in whatever form it comes, whether I think it applies to me or not.
Openness: I have to stop running and hiding. I have to be open about everything, and open my mind to whatever therapy, counselling or situation is offered to help me get well. Motto: Try everything and try to garner something from it.
Stop trying to hide my illness or deny it.
Acceptance: Start where I am and work from there. Baby steps.
Speak: Don't let things get swept under the carpet or bottled up. Speak up when things don't feel right. (In as kind and gentle way as I can manage--skills I need to learn.)
Motivation: I am committed to seeing this through and doing whatever I have to do to get well. This is not short-term. Getting well is my work. It is my focus. I do my best to finish whatever program I start.
Accept Responsibility: This is something I started to do after my second marriage broke up. Stop blaming others for what is going wrong in my life. Stop blaming family, old boyfriends, events, therapists, etc. While I still look for reasons and understanding about the past--attempting to learn the lessons--how I interpret and deal with the external world is up to me.
This, of course, is made more difficult by having BPD; but I anticipate therapy will help me learn to cope with life more constructively.
Showing posts with label BPD diagnosis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BPD diagnosis. Show all posts
Monday, December 6, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Getting diagnosed
Why so long to get diagnosed? Well, BPD hasn't been identified as long as other disorders.
It's a bit slippery in its various symptoms and manifestations. E.g. Not everyone cuts themselves. Yet I'm certain an aspect we all share is some form of self-destructive behaviour. And in some cases (mine included) we are treated for the symptom, rather than the underlying condition.
For example, I have been treated in the past for alcohol abuse and/or depression without anyone ever looking further. I was certainly a candidate for self-destructive behaviour in the form of sexual promiscuity during various eras. But perhaps my most pervasive and consistent form of self-sabotage was running.
Whenever something "bad" happened I would move. Break up with someone--I would feel I had to leave town. Get overwhelmed and drop out of school? I wouldn't just take a break and return the next semester. I'd suddenly disappear without saying goodbye or talking to anyone. Leaving everything and everyone behind.
Nothing felt better than packing my suitcase, and getting on a bus or a train or a plane. Destroying everything I had built. Letting go of everything I had acquired. Cleaning out my bank accounts, cashing in my investments, running up my credit card.
Rubbing out my old life and starting all over some place new. I did that over and over again and it felt good. Psychologically, I was cutting myself, watching my previous life bleed out. I was relieved.
As a consequence, when eventually I did go for counselling, or someone took me to the hospital; my records were all over the place--in many different cities--even in different countries.
Initially, I was somewhat resistant to getting help. But even when I did, no one could put the pieces of the puzzle together. The pieces were scattered everywhere. Some weren't even on the table.
Add to this my fear of the stigma of mental illness and the belief I was intelligent enough to figure this out on my own, you have a recipe to never be diagnosed nor receive the help I needed.
Perhaps only my family knew something of the crazy tangents of my life. And I believe it is primarily through the advocacy of my sister that I have finally been diagnosed and am beginning to build the life supports I need.
It's a bit slippery in its various symptoms and manifestations. E.g. Not everyone cuts themselves. Yet I'm certain an aspect we all share is some form of self-destructive behaviour. And in some cases (mine included) we are treated for the symptom, rather than the underlying condition.
For example, I have been treated in the past for alcohol abuse and/or depression without anyone ever looking further. I was certainly a candidate for self-destructive behaviour in the form of sexual promiscuity during various eras. But perhaps my most pervasive and consistent form of self-sabotage was running.
Whenever something "bad" happened I would move. Break up with someone--I would feel I had to leave town. Get overwhelmed and drop out of school? I wouldn't just take a break and return the next semester. I'd suddenly disappear without saying goodbye or talking to anyone. Leaving everything and everyone behind.
Nothing felt better than packing my suitcase, and getting on a bus or a train or a plane. Destroying everything I had built. Letting go of everything I had acquired. Cleaning out my bank accounts, cashing in my investments, running up my credit card.
Rubbing out my old life and starting all over some place new. I did that over and over again and it felt good. Psychologically, I was cutting myself, watching my previous life bleed out. I was relieved.
As a consequence, when eventually I did go for counselling, or someone took me to the hospital; my records were all over the place--in many different cities--even in different countries.
Initially, I was somewhat resistant to getting help. But even when I did, no one could put the pieces of the puzzle together. The pieces were scattered everywhere. Some weren't even on the table.
Add to this my fear of the stigma of mental illness and the belief I was intelligent enough to figure this out on my own, you have a recipe to never be diagnosed nor receive the help I needed.
Perhaps only my family knew something of the crazy tangents of my life. And I believe it is primarily through the advocacy of my sister that I have finally been diagnosed and am beginning to build the life supports I need.
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