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.

What's the Point?

No, seriously, what actually is the point? In anything? Life?

That's when I know I'm having a bad bout (current status)it's that despite having LOTS of things to look forward to, and I do mean lots, I just can't see the point in anything. We're all going to go the same way in the end, so what's the point.

I don't wish to alarm anyone at all here, I'm not in an 'unsafe place' or anything, but despite knowing full well that the point is to live, laugh, love, participate, enjoy and all of that; but when you're in the dark place you just don't have the courage of your convictions. Well I don't anyway.

I read an article about something related to this a little while ago. It's a milder version but there's a syndrome that has recently been named and it's running rife through all sorts of people of all ages, but particularly the slightly more youthful (although it's creeping into the older generations more and more I wouldn't mind betting). It's called 'Party Syndrome' a description coined by Alfred James who writes the Pocket Mindfulness blog.

The feeling that there is perpetually a party going on somewhere near to you but that you're not invited to. This is exacerbated by marketing executives who sell the image of new motherhood being like a Johnsons Baby commercial (yeah right) and the suave sophistication and sexual prowess you'll achieve if you only bought that new Audi (you get the 'how to drive like a cock' lessons thrown in free) and the fact that if you're not having perfect, spontaneous adventures with your gorgeous friends kite surfing off the great barrier reef at sunset wearing a vintage Armani bathing suit, then frankly, your existence is an embarrassment to the planet.

We all know it's horse shit, but it creeps into the psyche of all of us, and the emotionally fragile even more so.

Of course it's wonderful and necessary to have aspirations, dreams, but they must be yours. I like to travel, haven't done enough of it at all. But I don't like the idea of selling everything I own and travelling the world in a camper van like a wonderful couple of friends I have. I'm jealous of their freedom, I'm jealous of the views the have when they wake in the morning, the fact that their cleaning must take a maximum of 15 minutes a week, but it's not for me. I like my roots. I have to be working towards something planned and specific at all times or life really is pointless for me.

James and I are planning our next holiday away. There are so many places to chose from, but we are thinking we might go for the total opposite of glorious, wonderful Budapest (where I left a bit of my heart). Benidorm. Yes, that really is the opposite - and my god does it sound fun. I'm going to find the crappest karaoke, the corniest cabaret and the dreadfullest (clutching at straws there) drag artists.

I was watching the BBC series Benidorm a while back and one of the characters said "there's two types of people that come to Benidorm. Those who come to Benidorm and those who never go anywhere else." Isn't that wonderful. Unless you're one of those who 'never goes anywhere else'. But then, if they're genuinely happy with that, then they're winning at life more than I am currently.

I find when I'm not very well that my mind likes to hurt me just that little bit more by pointing out that I'm 'wasting my life', 'will never come to anything because of the shitty life choices you've made, which means you'll never snorkel in Armani off the Barrier Reef because you won't be able to afford it' (I don't even like snorkeling - there's fish in there you know). This ideal life that they're pushing everywhere you look, it's not healthy. It's putting too much pressure on us and we're not learning how to deal with it. We must teach out children that media is not real. Beauty is not perfection, and their ideas do not have to be the same as your ideas of what makes a valuable life.

It's mean and it's cruel and it's not fair. I find myself now able to self check with kindness and compassion, this is utterly down to Mindfulness practice, but it doesn't take away the underlying feeling. No, I don't react to those feelings any more - I can manage my chimp much better than I used to be able to, but it's tough. And tiring.

So if you ever feel like you're missing out on all this fun that everyone else is having because they all have a) more friends b) more money c) more free time and d) perfect mental health - it's a myth. We all feel like that from time to time, sadly some more than others. I know life will regain it's purpose and point soon ( I hope) but currently, it's a bit hopeless.

Ah well, at least I'm not Kanye West, eh? Every cloud and all that...