A thread of whining and self pity
Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2018 7:05 pm
Apologies first to Ahso for hijacking his thread and to 4part for hijacking his undoubtedly very difficult admission of Bipolar. My post was a totally inappropriate reaction to that post, induced by a strong and honest emotional sympathetic reaction to his admission but nonetheless totally inappropriate.
Sorry.
I knew a bipolar person years ago so I know where 4 part goes, to some extent. I couldn't stop her suicide attempt but no-one could so I don't feel very bad about it. She was a supply teacher last I heard (she was a friend of my wife and we've drifted apart and is still one of the simply most beautifully pure good people I've ever known and undeserving of the ovarian cysts and childhood sexual abuse and death in a black ice accident of the friend who showed her that men could be good and sex also just after they got engaged...
I've not got much time for god any more. That was 30 years ago and a good start.
I have no idea whether any of that triggered her bi-polar disorder or whether it was always just going to happen. I am subjectively convinced that her horrific experiences made it more certain she would suffer and probably worse. But if you have it you have it and it will manifest. I asked her after the crisis when she attempted suicide and should have died (aspirin and alcohol...one tough liver...) how she could when we knew how much it hurt friends and family and she explained that it hurt so much all the time she just had to hope we would understand. It was just too much. I was reminded of accounts I've heard of people with bad cancer or deep burns who screamed until they were too weak and then whimpered until days or weeks or months later they died.
Bipolar is like that but spread out and thinned, when it's bad. 4part is still alive. Strong man.
I was reminded when he posted. A few month ago I had the memory re-emerge of being diagnosed with BPD (and yeah I know how dodgy that sounds. All I can say is if I was going to lie even I could do better) so when he made the admission I reacted strongly because I was in the area already. But I would NEVER have admitted it if he hadn't, at that precise time.
So this thread is your fault, 4part.
So what the **** do I think is going on with Borderline Personality Disorder?
Heh. It's so degrading a name they really did try to rename it:
Emotionally Unstable Personality Syndrome.
Well, a laugh, at least.
What is BPD for me? Almost no ego, very little willpower (made worse because I have very little "I" to do things for). Strong disassociation. An unlucky social situation when a child at home and at school to the extent that at 15 I had serious evidence that my mother valued the dog above me: She paid £1 pill for the dog's skin condition and moaned about it which is how I knew. That was about 3 months after she complained about the idea of paying 50p a pill for my skin problems (which had my shirts covered in blood and pus) and never did get the pills the doctor said would cure me (Minacin) they wouldn't have, but they might have alerted him to the real problem which is an allergy to the enzymes in biological washing powder...
...as a teenager I had appalling spots on my back and chest but not my face: where I had sweat glands and clothing. My mother was the sort of person who believed that if you had spots you were a weak and soft person who got spots because you were weak and soft. The idea that it could have been because I had a sensitivity to the enzymes in biological washing powder didn't occur.
That wasn't the only thing, but it was the clincher.
To the Mums out there: this wasn't something little that was missed. This was several years of huge bloody spots and pus covered clothes and what did I get? Insults from her about being a filthy scug. To this day I cannot bring myself to tell you my nickname at school from this time.
Still here. The buggers haven't got me yet.
Oh, and I never hurt her when I hit her: I was a sabreur and 17 and my reaction speed when adrenalined up was good. When she challenged me to make good on my threat I tapped her on the cheek with three fingers before she moved. She was a sports coach.
She didn't cause it, nor did Dad, but they weren't there when I needed them, or worse.
The net effect is I find it incredibly hard to do things for the I that isn't very strong but I react incredibly powerfully and genuinely to ideas, and I analyse without as much self as usual getting in the way and my analysis is intense and powerful. BPD is about personality, not intellect and actually I gain some things from having my analytic powers uncluttered by self. Comparatively speaking.
...doesn't bloody explain why I'm so sensitive to vibration though. No idea if I am right about Cecilia having BPD or not.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Sorry.
I knew a bipolar person years ago so I know where 4 part goes, to some extent. I couldn't stop her suicide attempt but no-one could so I don't feel very bad about it. She was a supply teacher last I heard (she was a friend of my wife and we've drifted apart and is still one of the simply most beautifully pure good people I've ever known and undeserving of the ovarian cysts and childhood sexual abuse and death in a black ice accident of the friend who showed her that men could be good and sex also just after they got engaged...
I've not got much time for god any more. That was 30 years ago and a good start.
I have no idea whether any of that triggered her bi-polar disorder or whether it was always just going to happen. I am subjectively convinced that her horrific experiences made it more certain she would suffer and probably worse. But if you have it you have it and it will manifest. I asked her after the crisis when she attempted suicide and should have died (aspirin and alcohol...one tough liver...) how she could when we knew how much it hurt friends and family and she explained that it hurt so much all the time she just had to hope we would understand. It was just too much. I was reminded of accounts I've heard of people with bad cancer or deep burns who screamed until they were too weak and then whimpered until days or weeks or months later they died.
Bipolar is like that but spread out and thinned, when it's bad. 4part is still alive. Strong man.
I was reminded when he posted. A few month ago I had the memory re-emerge of being diagnosed with BPD (and yeah I know how dodgy that sounds. All I can say is if I was going to lie even I could do better) so when he made the admission I reacted strongly because I was in the area already. But I would NEVER have admitted it if he hadn't, at that precise time.
So this thread is your fault, 4part.
So what the **** do I think is going on with Borderline Personality Disorder?
Heh. It's so degrading a name they really did try to rename it:
Emotionally Unstable Personality Syndrome.
Well, a laugh, at least.
What is BPD for me? Almost no ego, very little willpower (made worse because I have very little "I" to do things for). Strong disassociation. An unlucky social situation when a child at home and at school to the extent that at 15 I had serious evidence that my mother valued the dog above me: She paid £1 pill for the dog's skin condition and moaned about it which is how I knew. That was about 3 months after she complained about the idea of paying 50p a pill for my skin problems (which had my shirts covered in blood and pus) and never did get the pills the doctor said would cure me (Minacin) they wouldn't have, but they might have alerted him to the real problem which is an allergy to the enzymes in biological washing powder...
...as a teenager I had appalling spots on my back and chest but not my face: where I had sweat glands and clothing. My mother was the sort of person who believed that if you had spots you were a weak and soft person who got spots because you were weak and soft. The idea that it could have been because I had a sensitivity to the enzymes in biological washing powder didn't occur.
That wasn't the only thing, but it was the clincher.
To the Mums out there: this wasn't something little that was missed. This was several years of huge bloody spots and pus covered clothes and what did I get? Insults from her about being a filthy scug. To this day I cannot bring myself to tell you my nickname at school from this time.
Still here. The buggers haven't got me yet.
Oh, and I never hurt her when I hit her: I was a sabreur and 17 and my reaction speed when adrenalined up was good. When she challenged me to make good on my threat I tapped her on the cheek with three fingers before she moved. She was a sports coach.
She didn't cause it, nor did Dad, but they weren't there when I needed them, or worse.
The net effect is I find it incredibly hard to do things for the I that isn't very strong but I react incredibly powerfully and genuinely to ideas, and I analyse without as much self as usual getting in the way and my analysis is intense and powerful. BPD is about personality, not intellect and actually I gain some things from having my analytic powers uncluttered by self. Comparatively speaking.
...doesn't bloody explain why I'm so sensitive to vibration though. No idea if I am right about Cecilia having BPD or not.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.