Because I Can

I'm coming to terms, slowly, with the fact that I am still a young ish woman but I'm never going to be financially independent (not unless there's a lottery win anyway).

(Just for the record - there is no particular reason why I feel compelled to be totally financially independent. It's just one of my "things".)

I am now realising that I just can't do what other people do as a matter of course. Not for very long, anyway. I can work, of course I can - work is VERY important to me. Purpose is vital. But I can't work loooong hours and spend hours sat in traffic jams (sometimes it's just not possible to ride my bike) only to snatch a few hours in bed, then be back at it. Well I can do that, for a bit. But not for very long. It hurts my brain in a way that takes me a very, very long time to recover.

I blame Jackie magazine. I think I've blamed Jackie for things before. And I'm sure I will again.

As a young pre-teen, my grandmother worked in a news agents. This was back in the old days when papers and magazines were thrown out instead of returned. I had a ready supply of Jackie magazine old unsold issues being collected for me and I just loved them. All these grown up looking girls, doing their thing. I couldn't wait to be one of them. Of course I learned an awful lot from them which was terrific and lead me into teenage times prepared, but since then, I have never been able to get the headline "what does your bedroom say about you?" out of my head. I am constantly measuring myself by the standard of "what would someone insignificant think". I'm a very lazy perfectionist and I'm not good enough at it to be totally anally retentive about how my bedroom/outside toilet/boot of my car appears, but I'm motivated enough to mentally beat the crap out of myself for it not portraying me in the best light possible.

The other thing I unhelpfully learned from mid 80's Jackie mag is that us ladies can, and I quote, "have it all". Damned 1980's. They did so much damage.

I was obsessed with 80's female body builder Corey Everson for a long time, thinking it was my duty to be a body builder, because I could. In fact, I should be everything; because I can. Sadly lacking, however was much in the way of instruction or direction as to making any kind of decision or path for myself, so I wandered along aimlessly and as a consequence, achieved very little other than extensive life experience. I was waiting for my path to naturally open up in front of me. It didn't. Never has.

There's still an awful lot of residual pressure from the "have it all" movement. In fact, there might be even more now. We all need to be runners now too. Mercilessly pounding pavements in the dark cluching a bottle with a hole through the middle and proclaiming that we "wouldn't be able to survive without running" at 5am. Before the kids get up. Before you get them to childcare. Before you go to your super rewarding job. Before you come home and hand cook an organic healthy delicious meal. Before you go out on "date night" with your handsome and supportive husband. Before you go to bed and have a decent amount of sex. Before you read a couple of chapters of the latest high brow novel while simultaneously checking the email your postgrad degree tutor has sent you about how brilliantly you're doing in your course. Before you confirm the time to meet your 17 gorgeous best friends who love you and each other equally to go to the spa pre "girls night" on Saturday.

We have to be all of these things in order to be worthy. Well guess what?

I BLOODY CAN'T ALRIGHT.

I can't cope. I get very tired very easily, my batteries run flat quickly. I can super charge them for a bit, but that cannot last long and if I'm not very careful it does me long term damage.

I WANT to do everything, but I can't. I have to rationalise this with myself who forgets this often. I sometimes get so swept up in "doing" that I have no concept of whether or not I might be doing lasting damage. I am so capable of doing so many things, and I want to do all of them. And right now. But I flaming can't. And I hate it.

Today is one of those days where I don't feel like I'm ever going to feel like myself again. Or that I'll ever be "happy" again, or not empty, one dimensional and lost. I don't feel like I'll ever find my path again (did I ever really find it in the first place) or achieve anything worthwhile ever again. I don't feel like I'll ever contribute to society ever again. (Of course my human brain knows this to be nonsense, but my Chimp is running amok and sometimes I can't get him to calm his shit down). I simply can't realistically see any of those things happening.

I can honestly see why so many with borderline have reckless habits. If I was in that kind of crowd or environment, today I would be a drug user to hide from my own mind. Or an alcoholic. Or I'd blow a shit tonne of money on crap. Luckily I have never really been in any of those places physically, but if I was, I would. If I was a Victorian prostitute I'd be off my face on Laudenam.

Fedup.com

Black and White

One of the most common (and somewhat annoying) traits of someone with Borderline Personality Disorder (I never abbreviate it - Bipolar got the acronym first) is 'black and white thinking'. and it seeps into many aspects of my being. It's a powerful in that it allows me to achieve great things, but sadly it's to the detriment of other matters.

Credit - hdwallnpics.com

I rarely have thoughts or opinions that are 'somewhere in the middle' and frankly this frustrates me greatly. Logic tells me that there are many grey areas in these things, but I just can't see them.

People. People cause me a great deal of problems. Not in themselves, they're just generally minding their own business going about their daily shenanigans, but I overwhelmingly can only ever see people as inherently good - or inherently bad. Rarely in the middle. It's almost like an obsession - (luckily I'm dead sensible so I don't appear to be a nut job) but I meet someone in a friendly capacity, I like the cut of their jib and the things they have to say - that makes all other people disappear from my radar.

They are, frankly, a bit of an annoyance. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. But very, very true. Has happened many times, over the years. And their fall from grace is equally as prompt and sizeable. Once someone has stepped over that (imaginary) line, they join the ranks of all the other minor annoyances. And that's if they are lucky. I'm lucky that I rarely see people as inherently bad. That's the one thing I'm grateful for.

Exhausting, huh? Yep. I have a certain amount of control these days but imagine being like that as a young person sans Mental Health toolbox? Wholly unfair.

This aspect creeps into many other areas too. For me, my home is EVERYTHING. And I do mean everything. I love to travel and do stuff and see stuff, but knowing that my home is there the second I am ready. So this means that my home is perfectly manicured, beautifully decorated and constantly flawless, doesn't it? Yeah right! Like hell it does. A few weeks ago, according to my monkey brain, the entire reason for my anxiety and spiral into depression - my living room. Completely and totally.

The fact that it was a work in progress due to impending horrendous building work, was the sole reason I was feeling agitated, anxious, empty etc. etc. The rug didn't match the curtains (an amalgamation of two rooms - terrible tragedy) and my need for fully matching scatter cushions in coordinating colours was like crack to an addict. You see when I achieve my desired effect within my living room (which is, in fact a pivotal universal point, I think you all know) then I will feel well again. I will be healthy and happy and all will be complete. Course it will.

It's just that over the last few months, I've felt that way about all of the rooms in the house. And, I felt that way about amalgamating the two rooms in preparation of the building work. Once we did that - everything would be perfect.

I bought a book over Christmas about decluttering. It is a wonderful and marvelous book that helped me greatly. It's much easier now for me to move around and be comfortable in my home now that I have gotten rid of a LOT of stuff that I didn't need. But I felt the same about that. It was the answer to all my prayers. Except it wasn't, of course. Jolly helped, but it wasn't the guiding light.

You see the whole black and white thing means that my brain can only direct it's considerable attention to one place. Hence I don't really feel like I've achieved much in my life really. Long term goals are just not something my brain can ever deal with. If I achieved a long term goal I would lose all my friends and turn into Stig of the Dump to do it. The 'all or nothing' thing is fantastic for short term, high intensity stuff, but not everything is like that.

I simply cannot do the slow-burn. I can't sip a drink, I drink it. I can't pick at a meal, I scoff it. But while I'm drinking the kitchen might catch fire and when I'm cooking that food to eat it the realisation that I have to clean up having prepared the food, will not have occurred to me. Or, I could concentrate on clearing up, only to find that my dinner has gone cold/been eaten by the dog in the meantime.

Recent minor obsessions have been:

Walking
Writing this blog
Running
Decluttering the kitchen
The back bedroom of doom
Riding my big bike
The stationery drawer
The airing cupboard
Having pink hair
Instagram posting
Needing to get a tortoise
Buying some new clothes (which I hate doing)
And some other stuff I would never admit publicly.

The Holy Grail, for me, is being able to disperse my attention across a few different things. Consistently. That, for me, is #winningatlife which I'm not, currently.

Oh well, I suppose I'd better put the kitchen back together. Don't want to. What a total nause.

Why do sick people wear pyjamas?

I work in a hospital so sick people wearing pyjamas is genuinely par for the course. They wear pyjamas all the time, go anywhere in them, outside, inside, Starbucks, the lot. It's never really made me think about why, until this morning.

I needed a shower this morning. I don't believe in showering every day (your skin makes natural oils for a very good reason) so I dragged myself up to the bathroom. When I'm 'not at my best', personal care is like climbing a big pointless hill for me. The prospect of putting make up on is, well, frankly hideous. I have to force myself to brush my teeth. Like, really force.

So I dragged my sorry backside in the shower, feeling like I'd achieved something. Normally, I could spend hours in the shower. I love it. Hate baths, adore showers. Then the terrible realisation hits home. Being in the shower gives birth to the terrible reality that I'm going to have to a) get dried, and worst of all, b) get dressed.

I have no interest in putting clothes on currently. They are purely functional items, to stop me getting arrested and/or cold. At this moment in time, selecting five or six individual items to put on my person, is a terribly overwhelming task. If you don't suffer in this way, you may not understand this, but it genuinely is, a terrible prospect. So that's where the pyjamas come in. Warm, decent, comfortable, easy to launder and zero effort involved whatsoever.

I've often thought that pyjama wearing is to do with comfort in hospital or sick beds, but there are lots of items that are just as comfortable. I thought maybe because they are easy to manouvre for proceedures etc, I think that's certainly a factor.

But I think getting dressed is more of a statement. It says - 'I feel okay', 'I am ready to participate in the world', 'I have a sufficient amount of respect for myself and I posess the energy and intention to make an effort and move forward in the world'. Pyjama wearing says 'I have bigger fish to fry than what items to put on' and to a degree I think it says 'I'm healing' or 'I'm not feeling great - putting clothes on is not something I just can do today'

Today is very much a pyjama day. And I still haven't brushed my teeth,