<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035</id><updated>2011-07-08T02:09:06.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Em world of borderline personality disorder</title><subtitle type='html'>Hello and wellcome to Em's world.  
To understand my world i have to tell you my story.
Thanks for taking the time out to care. 
Em xxx</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-3814110504520355818</id><published>2009-08-20T06:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T06:55:50.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a letter to my doctor and CPN</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 9"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 9"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///D:/DOCUME%7E1/STEVE%26%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dear doctor /CPN&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am writing this as someone who has had BPD for 20 years and who has spent 15 of those years in contact with Mental Health Services, including countless hospital admissions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is only over the last 2-3 years that I have gained enough insight and understanding to make sense of the maelstrom of unidentifiable emotions, thoughts and feelings that flooded me at the start and are only now easing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How I wish I could have communicated this all those years ago.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The irony is that back then, had I known all this, there is no way I would have shared it with you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anything I divulged could be used against me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Knowledge is power, a weapon.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There is absolutely no way I would hand anyone this arsenal!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In my mind there are two categories of clinicians – those who can work with borderlines and those who can’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you are one of the latter, work at damage limitation.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Treat BPD’s with respect, and don’t be judgemental.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You may not understand them, you may find them difficult, but they are people with feelings who have been damaged by life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you can’t help, just don’t make things worse.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am not criticising you, indeed I include myself in this category (I would have throttled me years ago out of sheer exasperation!).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some of the people who have impacted me the most are those A &amp;amp; E nurses and psychiatric support workers who didn’t understand me or my diagnosis but nonetheless recognised my pain and treated me kindly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They made me feel valued and cared for.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If you can / are willing to work with borderlines then the following may be helpful.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have grown up in an environment full of fear, where the goalposts are never in the same place two days running, where black becomes white, up becomes down and truth becomes lie.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I find it almost impossible to trust and am suspicious of anything and everything.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My world is black and white.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are no shades of grey.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What do I want from you?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Actually I want a hell of a lot so if you’re not up for the challenge don’t try to engage with me!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you dip your toe in the water only to retreat you will confirm my view that I am not worth the effort and am beyond help. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You can expect me to do my best to push you away to prove to myself that you are the same as everyone else and that as soon as you discover the real me you can’t run away fast enough.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need you to persevere, to prove me wrong, to show that you understand my insecurities and actions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I will be unreasonable at times and deliberately push your buttons.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Do your best not to react.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you do react, then you will need to talk to me about it and explain how you were feeling and why.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Otherwise I will see it as a rejection.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tend to put people on a pedestal and when they reveal that they are not perfect I cut myself off from them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You need to be able to get across that you are there for me but you are human and will make mistakes as will I and that I can still trust you.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am emotionally stunted and have the social skills of a child. This causes problems. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When a young child begins to assert itself, express preferences and dislikes they are unskilled, tactless and crude in their methods.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, loving parents are tolerant and understanding.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They nurture the child and teach them how to achieve their wishes within society and family rules, and considering any knock on affects on others around them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;An adult is expected to have learnt these things.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If an adult acted as the child they would be seen as selfish, manipulative and uncaring of the impact they had on those around them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Welcome to the world of the borderline.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In many regards my social skills are those of a young child’s – crude with little appreciation of the wider affects, yet I am judged as an adult who should know better.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When challenged regarding my behaviour I am upset and bewildered.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hadn’t realised what I was doing, how it would be perceived.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yet again I have got it wrong.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m a bad person.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I need a clinician who understands my intentions and who can help me learn better ways of communicating.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Having not felt safe and secure enough growing up to express my wishes or discover that I have a valid opinion, my attempts as an adult to do those things are likely to be as crude and clumsy as those of a child.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need nurturing and guiding, not criticising.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You need to be able to point out to me ways in which I have offended without crushing my fragile esteem.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And please avoid the word manipulative!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To me that suggests malicious intent.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My intentions are not bad, I just haven’t learnt effective ways of carrying them out.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In order to feel safe I need firm boundaries that make sense to me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I may not like them but if there is a good reason for them that is explained to me I will for the most part accept them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Uncertainty panics me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need order and routine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you’re not going to be available at times please give me as much warning as possible.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need time to get my head around things.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have real problems with abandonment so I need you to be dependable.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you miss an appointment without prior notice please get a message to me ASAP as I will be devastated.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You need to be straight with me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There will no doubt be times when you keep things from me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe it’s not for you to tell me or you don’t think I’m ready to hear something.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whatever the reason don’t hide it from me. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I will be on to an evasion or lie in a flash.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just be honest and admit it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am suspicious and mistrusting by nature and conditioning.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You will have to work hard to help me be trusting and to expect (or just hope for) the best and not the worst in any given situation.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You can expect me to push against boundaries.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m testing you along with the boundary.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is a way of seeing if I can trust you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you give way, I will take advantage.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But neither of us will benefit.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need you to be flexible but only with good reason, not just to make life easier and shut me up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I will be ambivalent.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll run to you desperate for you to help me, to take away my suffering.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I’ll push you away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t want to change.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can’t go into the unknown, the risky.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll block you out, stick my fingers in my ears (not literally, although that’s not out of the question), bury my head.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t want to do anything different, I just want the bad to go away.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I find it difficult to know what’s going on in my head.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s as if my head is a cauldron full of thoughts and feelings that are swirling around so fast its impossible to isolate and identify any individually.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Often I am overwhelmed by feelings that I can’t describe, just to say that they are awful, and make me desperate to get rid of them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So don’t be surprised if when questioned about my thoughts you get a ‘I don’t know’ in response.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m not being uncooperative, I really don’t know.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(I can be deliberately obstructive, you are just going to have to learn to recognise this.)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A big obstacle is going to be my lack of self.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel like a stranger in my own body, as if I’m not really there, I’m just observing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel apart from others when in company.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m not the same as them, I don’t fit in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m an alien in a human body.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel that I’m a hollow shell filled with BPD.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you rip out the BPD, there will be nothing left to hold me up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will be empty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even emptier.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There lies a problem.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The BPD makes my life hell, but it is my life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is my only sense of self.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By asking me to let go of the BPD you are asking me to amputate a huge chunk of myself.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;At times it’s possible I’ll become so distressed that I can no longer keep myself safe.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If an admission is needed you need to be aware that this is a two edged sword.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although I will resent being contained, restricted, I will start to feel safe, secure.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The rules and routines of a ward offer stability and security, things I crave.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Keep me there too long and I won’t want to go back out to a world that’s unpredictable and ever changing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What works best for me is to have rapid access to hospital for short stays at my own instigation.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This offers respite in a crisis (or ideally pre-crisis) and allows me to hand over responsibility for myself for a limited period so that I can have a break and re-charge.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You definitely need to have a sense of humour (preferable warped), to be able laugh at the macabre.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You also need to let me know you as a real person.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t mean that you need to disclose personal information, more that you need to reveal your personality.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am not going to open up to a shielded person.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I need to be able to relate to you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It needs to be a two way exchange.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will not communicate with a cardboard cut-out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You will be asking me to reveal my deepest hurts and darkest thoughts and fears.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Things I haven’t been able to admit even to myself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am not going to do this unless I have learnt to trust you and I won’t trust someone unless I get to know and respect them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;These are the things that spring most readily to mind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are doubtless plenty of other pointers I could make but I expect we all have our individual quirks and differences.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My aim really was to give an insight that I hope is helpful if it hasn’t scared you off.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It will be hard work and most likely a long slog but if you are willing and able, you are in a position to make a real difference to someone’s life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m told that amongst all the frustration that comes with working with a borderline, in-between banging your head against the nearest brick wall, it can be rewarding.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I cannot express the gratitude I feel to those who have risen to the challenge and helped me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-3814110504520355818?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/3814110504520355818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/08/letter-to-my-doctor-and-cpn.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/3814110504520355818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/3814110504520355818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/08/letter-to-my-doctor-and-cpn.html' title='a letter to my doctor and CPN'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-2812312234396045140</id><published>2009-07-05T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T08:24:22.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>personality disorders being diagnosed through  family court assessments</title><content type='html'>I write this article with growing concern at the sheer&lt;br /&gt; scale of personality disorders being diagnosed through&lt;br /&gt; family court assessments. In recent years there has been&lt;br /&gt; systematic abuse of parents by social services.These parents&lt;br /&gt; have had their children removed not because of any harm they&lt;br /&gt; have done to them but because of a likelihhod of harm that&lt;br /&gt; may or may not happen in the future. The majority of cases&lt;br /&gt; are&lt;br /&gt;  based on a liklihood of emotion harm which has no clear&lt;br /&gt; definition in law and in fact I attended the failure to care&lt;br /&gt; debate at channel 4 on the 12th May where i invited the&lt;br /&gt; panel to define emotional harm and they couldnt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The telegraph reported the following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "The persistent failure of social workers to protect&lt;br /&gt; children who are in very serious danger is made even more&lt;br /&gt; outrageous by the profession's propensity to remove&lt;br /&gt; children from parents who are manifestly no danger at all to&lt;br /&gt; them. Of the 35,000 children who are taken into care every&lt;br /&gt; year on the recommendation of social workers, a large&lt;br /&gt; proportion are removed on grounds of "emotional&lt;br /&gt; abuse" – a category so broad and ill-defined that it&lt;br /&gt; can include both praising your children too much and not&lt;br /&gt; praising them enough, or feeding them too many vegetables or&lt;br /&gt; too little fresh fruit. It appears that social workers,&lt;br /&gt; aware of their inability to intervene in cases where&lt;br /&gt; children really are at&lt;br /&gt;  risk, compensate for that failure by intervening in&lt;br /&gt; families where they are obviously safe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/telegraph-view/4214697/Telegraph-View-Child-abuse-wont-be-overcome-until-we-define-what-it-is.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/telegraph-view/4214697/Telegraph-View-Child-abuse-wont-be-overcome-until-we-define-what-it-is.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What then happens is that the parents after having their&lt;br /&gt; children removed are bereft, angry, fearful etc they are&lt;br /&gt; then made to undergo psychological and psychiatric&lt;br /&gt; assessments where in most cases before the family courts&lt;br /&gt;they are diagnosed with a personality disorder.This is then&lt;br /&gt;used as an excuse for social services not to return the&lt;br /&gt;children to their care. I believe that many of these parents  do not actually have a personality disorder at all but that&lt;br /&gt; the symptoms they experienced after having their children removed are often taken as symptoms of  personality disorder when really what they are&lt;br /&gt; experiencing goes hand in hand with the loss of a child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-2812312234396045140?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/2812312234396045140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/07/personality-disorders-being-diagnosed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/2812312234396045140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/2812312234396045140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/07/personality-disorders-being-diagnosed.html' title='personality disorders being diagnosed through  family court assessments'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-7665708456755638296</id><published>2009-05-15T04:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T04:24:27.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>stigmatising headline in The Sun, “Schizo is caged for killing ma”</title><content type='html'>RETHINK NEWS UPDATE EXTRA – The Sun at it AGAIN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning if April we alerted you to a stigmatising headline in The Sun, “Schizo is caged for killing ma” we know that 6 people complained to the Press Complaints Commission , we know that some of you complained directly to The Sun and received letters saying;  “We constantly strive to give satisfaction and value, and I can assure you that your viewpoint will be heard and discussed at the highest level.....I hope you feel that your letter and the views it contains has been read carefully and its contents acted upon...Please feel free to write on any subject...your opinions from a valuable part of the policy-making and continued success of The Sun.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were contacted by a Rethink member who had spoken to the Press Complaints Commission and was informed that they had contacted The Sun and the sub-editor responsible had been disciplined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One month on and The Sun has done it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry” for stabbing by schizo appeared on page 7, today Wednesday 6th May 2009, as their headline for the story on the report findings that a pregnant mother of 5 was killed by a man with schizophrenia whose care was mismanaged by the Mental Health Trust.   He was found to have been “under treated”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, it is completely legitimate to report that an independent review has been published , its findings and the details of the case but you may feel that the choice of headline is unacceptable.  Please see attachment for scanned article.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you do feel strongly, you may want to write to or email the editor of The Sun and  / or the Press Complaints Commission.  Last month 6 people complained and the sub-editor was, reportedly, disciplined, if we follow this up and more of us get in contact than the impact will keep growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may feel that contacting The Sun and the Press Complaints Commission  won’t change the world but added to the atmosphere we are creating with Time to Change an on-going challenge of inappropriate language use will add to making a real difference– this is how society’s view of a subject is changed.  The movement to make homophobia socially unacceptable in the mainstream took decades of sustained effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can make a complaint with the Press Complaints Commission. &lt;br /&gt;Their Code of Practice, point 12 i) states; The press must avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race, colour, religion, sexual orientation, physical or mental illness or disability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Link to the code of practice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://www.pcc.org.uk/cop/practice.html" href="http://www.pcc.org.uk/cop/practice.html" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;http://www.pcc.org.uk/cop/practice.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Link to details of how you can complain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://www.pcc.org.uk/complaints/process.html" href="http://www.pcc.org.uk/complaints/process.html" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;http://www.pcc.org.uk/complaints/process.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to contact The Sun&lt;br /&gt;Please remember that the Sun only prints very short comments or edits readers’ views down to very short points.  If you are aiming to get your comments published, to give it the best chance, please try and sum up your point in 50 words or less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may feel that it is unlikely The Sun will print any letters pointing out their is language in unacceptable and want to write a longer letter allowing you more room to make your feelings and reasoning clear.  If you choose to take this option please still try and keep to 200 words maximum and stick to an informative tone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either approach is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Points you may want to include that specifically relate to the word “schizo”;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst I appreciate that this is a news story and that Benjamin Holiday’s mental health condition is relevant to the case to refer to him as a “schizo” does not add to the facts, all it does is turn a mental health condition into a term of abuse. (49 words)&lt;br /&gt;Mental illness still carries a taboo; language like “schizo” reduces someone to their diagnosis in the most derogatory way using playground-taunts. (22 words) &lt;br /&gt;·         NHS Yorkshire and Humber should be sorry that their care led to two families being devastated.  You should be sorry that you continue to use playground taunts like “schizo” when reporting the news. (34 words).&lt;br /&gt;1 in 100 people in the UK have schizophrenia; with over 7 million readers at least 7,000 people who read your paper and their families must have schizophrenia.  The term “schizo” is simply an unacceptable term of abuse. (39 words).&lt;br /&gt;1 in 100 people in the UK have schizophrenia with the current UK population at 60 million then there must be six hundred thousand people living in the UK with schizophrenia – clearly violence is not a symptom of mental illness yet the tone of your report implies it is. (50 words).&lt;br /&gt;Other points that refer to the article more generally;&lt;br /&gt;There are 600 homicides a year in England and Wales, the overwhelming majority, 91% are committed by people who DO NOT have a mental illness* yet this article implies the opposite is true and peddles the myth all people with schizophrenia are dangerous. (45 words).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*National confidential inquiry into suicide and homicides by people with mental illness 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additional points to include if you contacted The Sun before and are doing so again.&lt;br /&gt;·         I wrote to you about exactly the same issue in April, your letter said “We constantly strive to give satisfaction and value, and I can assure you that your viewpoint will be heard and discussed at the highest level”.  I don’t feel assured, your letter went on to say “I hope you feel that your letter and the views it contains has been read carefully and its contents acted upon”.  Your headline today makes me feel the exact opposite.  You went on to say “your opinions from a valuable part of the policy-making and continued success of The Sun.”  I would be more than  happy to meet with you and discuss your policy on reporting mental health issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To contact the Sun&lt;br /&gt;Email:               &lt;a title="mailto:letters@the-sun.co.uk" href="mailto:letters@the-sun.co.uk" target="_blank" rel="nofollow" ymailto="mailto:letters@the-sun.co.uk"&gt;letters@the-sun.co.uk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Address:           The Editor        &lt;br /&gt;1 Virginia Street&lt;br /&gt;                        Wapping&lt;br /&gt;                        London&lt;br /&gt;                        E98 1SN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please remember to mark your letter for the editor and for publication if this is what you wish.  If want it to be published you must provide your name and address even if you are e-mailing but please say you want them withheld if you don’t want them published.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must say which article in which edition you are referring to whether you want your comment published or not;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Editor,&lt;br /&gt;Re your article “Sorry for stabbing by schizo published Wednesday 6th May 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please let me know if you write or e-mail to either, or both, The Sun or The Press Complaints Commission.  Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rethink, the leading national mental health membership charity, works to help everyone affected by severe mental illness recover a better quality of life. We provide hope and empowerment through effective services and support to all those who need us and campaign for change through greater awareness and understanding. To continue our work and build on what we have already achieved, we depend on our members. 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Together we make people Rethink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind regards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vicky Trimikliniotis&lt;br /&gt;Interim Senior Media Officer&lt;br /&gt;Rethink&lt;br /&gt;020 7840 3146&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working together to help everyone affected by severe mental illness recover a better quality of life.Visit &lt;a href="http://www.rethink.org/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;http://www.rethink.org/&lt;/a&gt;Please join us today &lt;a href="http://www.rethink.org/join" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;www.rethink.org/join&lt;/a&gt;Download and buy Rethink publications at &lt;a href="http://www.mentalhealthshop.org/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;http://www.mentalhealthshop.org/&lt;/a&gt;Rethink&lt;br /&gt;15th Floor&lt;br /&gt;89 Albert Embankment&lt;br /&gt;London&lt;br /&gt;SE1 7TP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-7665708456755638296?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/7665708456755638296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/05/stigmatising-headline-in-sun-schizo-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/7665708456755638296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/7665708456755638296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/05/stigmatising-headline-in-sun-schizo-is.html' title='stigmatising headline in The Sun, “Schizo is caged for killing ma”'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-3565406410077830645</id><published>2009-05-03T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T09:04:57.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my story</title><content type='html'>I have been working on a story of my highs and lows of my life.  My therapist though it would be helpful to get all the different memories in some kind of order.  As i kind of  remembered things in bit and bobs.  So i though i would shaw this with you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hear goes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the age of 6 months.&lt;br /&gt; My mum and dad spilt up.  Mum was having an affair with her another man. (Whom she is still with after 31 years.)  The other man gave my mum an ultimatum it was her boyfriend or me. Mum gave me to her boyfriends mum.&lt;br /&gt;(Whom I call Nan.)&lt;br /&gt;As Nan did not want to see me put into care. She offered to look after me.&lt;br /&gt;Nan was married to my granddad. My Nan had 3 daughters and 3 sons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child I only remember bad stuff. Like my Granddad walking out of the house after an argument and never came back. Nan was getting drunk all the time.&lt;br /&gt;D who was one of my Nan’s sons although he was in is 20’s he had a mental age of a 6 year old.  Always hit and beat me. Making me do thing I did not want to do.&lt;br /&gt;I remember one time he had an air pistol gun that you could put in little darts in.  Then he was told me to do stuff and if I did not do it he would shoot me.&lt;br /&gt;He made me put my hand in a coal fire. He would push me down the stairs. Lock me in my room for days with out food. Made me clean the floors naked with a toothbrush and bleach etc.  There is more but I would be here all week typing it all out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my Nan was drinking all the time she did not know any thing was going on. I did tell her one-day but she was to drunk to listen.  So I went to my mums one day to ask her I could live with her. She said no. So I told her why I wanted to live with her. Her response was I don’t believe you and sent me back to my Nans.  This was also affecting my school life too. People told me I stunk and I was fat etc. Te reason for this was I only could fryed food, as I did not have an oven or the vegetables or meat to cook. As my Nan drink the money.  I would go to the pub with her. As a child people would give me money to by some sweets but I went to the chip shop. Also I had to take her home undress her when she pass out from the age of 7years. With D always on my back. I would try every thing to go to a friend’s house. To stay over for tea and to sleep over. The first few nights was great I had a dinner then a story read to us. But as I stay over more and more he would take advantage of me. I was asked to bring a friend round too. Then he made me do things to her too. This happened over a five year gap. I would go home to be beaten then go to my friends to be sexually abused. That was my child hood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day I rang the social services for help and told them every thing. My friends dad was put into prison.&lt;br /&gt;Then I put my self into care at the age of 11. So I went to a family who had one son.&lt;br /&gt;My foster family was really nice at first but it went from one extreme to another. They watched me like a hawk. I would also sleep talk and walk and if they asked me questions and I would tell them every thing I did that day.  I could not cope with the way they was in my face. They also said they treated me as on of the family. Things started to go wrong they were constantly watching me asking teachers what I was like at school. Even to a point of becoming friends with one of my teachers. I stared tanning to become a Care assistant at an old people home and bring in my own money £ 35 a week.  I had to pay £30 for board leaving me with £5 a week to by soaps and women thing. I also had to buy my own towels, bedding, washing powder etc leaving me with nothing to go with my mates. Then I started to get depressed, have panic attacks and flash backs and I had to go into hospital for my own safety as I wanted to kill my self. I was in there for 5 month’s as I was getting better I started a self help group and met my husband there. I walked in the room and saw Steve sitting  in the corner from that minute we knew that something special was going to happen. We arranged to go out together; despite the group warning us it wouldn't work. (What do they know eh?) Within, two months we were engaged. A year later we had our own place. Another year and we were married. We went off, just the two of two friends, to Ashbourne in the Peak District and us and got married quietly. Just when we thought things couldn't get any better, four months later, we found out i was expecting.&lt;br /&gt;It was Boxing Day and I wanted to go to the chemist. Steve thought it was odd, but hadn't got a clue what was going through my mind. i bought a pregnancy kit and we just didn't know what to say. We were so happy when it came out positive. Rowan has changed our lives no-end. We have had so many laughs with him it is unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had depression bad with rowan and things started to get worse. So I went into hospital and the therapist told me about therapeutic community. Rowan was about 3 years of age&lt;br /&gt; I went for 6 months at Frances Dixon lodge. I had to come of all meds and stop self-harming. But I did it! . It was hard I had therapy 24 hours day and night. With support when ever I need it. I found it to hard to open but I did a little bit but then found my self. Missing my husband and child. I only got to see them at weekends.&lt;br /&gt; I put my therapy on hold because I could not get on with another resident. I wanted to be like her and she wanted to be like me total clash. Then one day I could not hold it any more I had the biggest argument with her leading to be voted out by the community. As I scared her but pushing her out of the way to get out of the building. As I was so mad with her.&lt;br /&gt;I got home and things stared to fall apart because I felt like I was just dropped and the can of worms was open that could not be closed. So I was at home for about two years and had some one to one with a therapist. I got a job at the local supper market. 4 hours a day.  Then one day some one walked in to the store, which I remembered from my passed. It was one of the people who abused me. Well this made me fall into a psychotic episode. I heard a voice and I was not very well at all. I pushed every one away from me. Then started to self harm again and they put me back on a loads of meds. The meds started to work and I started to come out of the episode.    So I asked if I could go back to the community. I went back but there was different people and I kind of known what was expected from me. I did their therapy and learned loads on how to cope with life and learned that there was more to life than me in pain. I looked around and seen my son playing and husband with him having fun. That was it I now know what ever happened to me as a child has gone and there was no need to live there any more. I was not afraid any more of living life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now I was free from meds for a year and a half. I was living life and I was so happy. I was enjoying my son playing and helping him with is homework even enjoyed having him home on school holidays. I was having fun for the first time in ages.&lt;br /&gt;Then thing started to go all-wrong. I started with feeling really tired then snapping at every one around me. I did not really see what was going on.  Till it took my husband a bottle of wine and a two glass of whisky to tell me that things was not right. So I rang my CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) to tell her things was not right. So then she rang the psychiatric doctor to get him to assess me. He diagnosed me with a depressive illness. I am finding it hard to cope once again. The bad thoughts are coming back and also I want to self-harm again. It’s so hard as I thought I was out of mental health services. To have all my happiness and able to cope with life pulled away is so cruel.  I feel I am back to square one again. I all I hope it the meds the doctor gave me start to work soon. As things have started to fall even deeper. I hear the voice again. I have told my husband and my CPN . so now i live with my voice Chris and Isabella . i dont hear them all the time they come and go. it more like them visiting me.  but just of late things are getting to much again. As i want to keep moving and the colours are so bright and every thing looks so interesting.   my mind is  racing and full of thoughts of new ideas and i feel like i am on a productive high.  I was told that i need to calm down from one of my close friend. As she can see me doing stupid/ risky things.  so now each afternoon i have to sit in an darkened room with some soft music on for about a hour.  my thoughts just seem to come in some order and slow down another for me to calm down a little.  my voices are there most of the time at the moment. some time i see things in the corner of my eyes a few time i see some one knocking on the window but go to the door and no one is there. &lt;br /&gt;any way that's me at the moment  and a little of my past.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for taking the time out to read this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-3565406410077830645?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/3565406410077830645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/3565406410077830645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/3565406410077830645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-story.html' title='my story'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-5015446360892759726</id><published>2009-04-19T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T10:26:29.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>i have had a great Easter me and Steve are getting on alot better have more cuddles and a few kiss. yippee!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont really know what to do really just of late.  i have been feeling so so tried just of late. i wake up with burning eyes like as if i have not slept in days. I do not think it the meds.  i have been taking vitamins and i have given my self 7 days off the self-help  group.  i have hit a block  with the self-help group and one of the place has pulled out.&lt;br /&gt;this is the email i got back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello Emma,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Further to discussions with our project members and Management Committee, we have agreed that a Personality Disorder self-help group at Uttoxeter Mind does not fit in with our Values and Principles and our belief in not "attaching labels" to people.  We feel your group would be better served in a more medical setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wish you luck in your endeavours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind regards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I feel a little disapointed  to be honsit.  So i have given my self  some time off to Just to take stock of every thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I feel so emotional and it also looks like i will not have any benefits this time round so it looks like i be £327 down each month.  and with Steve moving jobs and he be down about £100 a month to.  so i have to stop the gym, my slimming world, driving lesson. it looks like i will not be able to go to meetings out of my area as i can't afford the bus and train fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know sigh  i can't get lesson of Steve (husband)as he so nervous of me driving. then i start to get wound up because he does not feel comfortable with me driving. i did try to drive but he just make comments that irritate me .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so it looks like i have to get  a part time job which iam ok in doing but the pressure of a job  not good for me  i have tried to work many other time and ended every time in hospital  after a year or so.  I just worried that if i do go back to work i will fall down again or have some time of  and they have to let me go.  All so i would have to think about what i am taking on as i has i still want to try and get this self-help group up and running. &lt;br /&gt;Sigh&lt;br /&gt; I really don't know what to do for the best ? ????&lt;br /&gt;any way that's enough about me be for i cry.&lt;br /&gt;hope you all are doing well ?&lt;br /&gt;em xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-5015446360892759726?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/5015446360892759726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/04/update_19.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5015446360892759726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5015446360892759726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/04/update_19.html' title='update'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-3314604773038862519</id><published>2009-04-02T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T05:50:41.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>mood of the day tired and fed up.&lt;br /&gt;how do i feel / that's a good question ? i feel depressed, Sadness (about my relationship), Guilt, shame,neglected, lonely&lt;br /&gt; On a good note my self-help group is coming on and i have a place who is willing for me to start the group. I don't have to pay for the room.  The only thing is that it about half hour drive  or an hours bus drive.  This group taking all my energy.  I am shaw it will be worth it in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also taking driving lessons. Life is filling up so quickly with things to do. House work, group, even training to teach doctors how to handle people who have personality disorder and try and get them to understand the things we do and there's  always a reason why we do things too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husbands moving jobs  and there will not be as much money as before but he be happy (i hope)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have the doctors appointment tomorrow. so i need to ask him to refer me back to the psy-doc so he can refer me to a two day Theraputic community.&lt;br /&gt;so it looks like i am going to be a very busy girl.  it just seem like all work and no play at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;singing  out&lt;br /&gt;for today&lt;br /&gt;em xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-3314604773038862519?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/3314604773038862519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/04/update.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/3314604773038862519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/3314604773038862519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/04/update.html' title='update'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-826807439035633954</id><published>2009-03-30T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T12:07:28.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>relationship so messed up</title><content type='html'>mood of the day sh#t and emotional&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today i have come to the conclusion that me and my husband have nothing in common any more. Typical day, Steve gets ready to go to work gives me a pecks me on the lips. Comes home at dinner has some thing to eat. Find it hard to talk to him. So i ask him if work is ok. He grunts at me and say i guess so. Then he eats his food and watches TV. He put his jacket on and pecks me on the cheek. So he comes home from work, he likes s to cook to wind down from work. Ask him how his day been and tell me stuff about work and funny moments. Sit down and eat son go to bed. We sit watching TV and not talking that much so i go on the computer or he goes out to poker if not poker he watches it on TV. I come of computer sit with him for a bit then take my meds and go bed. He stay up and then comes to bed 11 to 12pm. That's my day no affection no just like we are good friends. Some time i go to cuddle him just to see if he wants to or not but he just sits there.I say i love him and he just smiles and say same back.He will not give me a big kiss any more just in case it leads to sex. He says he does not want sex because he does not know how he feels about my abuse and stuff. He will not see any one to try and work on his issues.So i feel very lonely and i miss him so much. I tell him i miss him and i try and be open to how i feel. But he then goes and says hear we go again. I am trying so hard to work on my issues and i have not cut or taken overdoes in years. I some time take lax as it doe not show. God i hate feeling like this fat and ugly. I don’t feel like a woman any more. I am a mum and a cleaning person who cleans after every one. But just of late it’s getting harder to do as i can feel my self-falling. I am trying to grip on to the sides.I am so fed up fighting to get help from doctors and therapy. I have told my GP doctor how i feel as my psy/doctor referred me back to the GP because he does not know how to treat me. He said that i have had my treatment at the therapeutic community. All he can do is give me meds to help treat the symptoms.I am trying to start up my own self-help group and that very hard work. Trying to understand rule and regulations.sighoh well !! I hope you all are doing better than me ?bye for nowEm xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-826807439035633954?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/826807439035633954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/relationship-so-messed-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/826807439035633954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/826807439035633954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/relationship-so-messed-up.html' title='relationship so messed up'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-4634102833725361040</id><published>2009-03-19T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T14:19:10.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God I am feeling  guilty.</title><content type='html'>today mood sad and feel guilty&lt;br /&gt; my husband for the first time since i came back from the therapeutic community.  talk to me about why he feels like he can't be interment with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said when we was having relationship therapy,  I said i used sex in a different way IE  like when i was unhappy i would have sex to make my self feel better.   I would do things that would trigger a flashback  so it would make me feel like i was back when i was a child.  Just for the feeling.  but to tell you the truth i am so mixed up with sex and showing some one you love them. i think me doing something that i did not like showed him i loved him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to be less angry at him and rowan.  To try and be happy when we do things as a family . As i know you are not well but please try and show rowan.  As he said to me that why is mum not happy when we do things like play games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He said he Feel pressured into making things work. as I has nothing else in her life or no one to turn to. So i don't feel i can make honest comments. In fear of what she may do "its not my fault"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he also said he been though a lot with me and my self harming  and  when i come home i never know what mood you are going to be in  or if you have taken any thing. when i come home it should  relaxed in my own home and i can never do that at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow just typing this out make me feel guilty. i did not realize how bad i was  he was telling what i been like and i could not remember most of what he said. he was reeling loads of stuff and then it hit me.  I am evil and nasty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also went to a information day on PD.  They was talking about how my childhood and how they helped me to be this way and then said how does it affect our children .  when we have these intense mood swing and then seeing i hurt my self. ( I did not do it in front of him ) it was when i had bandages on or had a stay in hospital. when he sees me Dissociate and how i change to a little girl. all this behavior and how will it affect him. its hard for my husband its got to be hard for him to.&lt;br /&gt;i feel i have damaged my husband to the point of him being messed up and needing to see a therapist to get things strate in his head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just need to get it off my chest.&lt;br /&gt;em xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-4634102833725361040?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/4634102833725361040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/god-i-am-feeling-guilty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/4634102833725361040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/4634102833725361040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/god-i-am-feeling-guilty.html' title='God I am feeling  guilty.'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-2365334183665764729</id><published>2009-03-19T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T12:01:33.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my marriage</title><content type='html'>my relationship well let just say my "what relationship" it just been like i am living with my best mate. It been a 1 year and 5 1/2 months since we have been intermet . I fed up of trying to get him to talk about our relationship. I was the one always trying to see why he feels he can't be intermet with me. Then on Monday just gone he told me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve went on to say I couldn’t cope with having to look after you and worry what mood your going to be in when I get home from work. I am always tipping toeing around you and I am not going to do it any more. I don't know if we can cope like this any more something has to change. So then I said well what would you do if we were to split up. I said that I would not ask for the house and that rowan's. He said that I would like you to pick him up from school till I get from work then have him one day out of the weekend each. Then Steve said well I would get a lone out to give you some money to start a new flat or home. And then I would help you out too. The rowan came back to the table and we could not talk any more. That night I could not stop crying I cried till 3am in the morning and tried to go to bed. But I could not sleep. Morning came and rowan came down stairs I got him some breakfast and then Steve came down too. I just looked at him and burst into tears again. Then he said I couldn’t do this? I said what ya mean he said I couldn’t see you upset like this it killing me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-2365334183665764729?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/2365334183665764729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-marriage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/2365334183665764729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/2365334183665764729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-marriage.html' title='my marriage'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-2939269482051943780</id><published>2009-03-14T08:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T09:38:24.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UPDATE</title><content type='html'>There is only so long you can hold this persona of everything is ok and ticking over nicely. It takes so much energy to keep it up.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to let go of the persona and just let every thing hang out. My emotions and feelings. I keep on go through my mind of passed times i self- harmed and how good it felt and how it made me feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so tired of fighting for every thing . My psy-doc said that he not ever seen any one like me before, in all the 20 years of him being a psy-doctor . I don't know how to treat you. So he reffed me back to the GP.&lt;br /&gt;so the GP reffed me to some one out of area and then he got a letter back saying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Emma,&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for your letter of referral concerning a second opinion, I'm afraid that our clinic is struggling to meet the care need of derbyshire service users and we just don't have the spare capacity to accept referrals of out of area patients. i am sorry we can not be of help to you in further care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i ring up the GP and said ok where do we go from hear? then he said he can referred back to the therapeutic community out patents. In Birmingham which is an 1 hour and 30 min train ride. oh well it looks like i have to do it. as i cant afford to put my mental health at risk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been having intense therapy concerning my abuse and rape . i feel that has been so stressful , I have been having time where i don't know what i am doing. I buy dolls and toys. Some times fined a bag with a purse and a diary with dates and things i don't remember. I also hear voice but iam starting to put together a picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cpn boss rang a few days ago to ask me why i complained about her. The thing is did not do it. Also when i went away with the girls on an 80s weekend. i went on a walk about and got me some toy for a girl. i have a son and i would not buy a pink teddy for him. Any way i got in from my shopping and the girls said i was acting like a kid jumping around and singing nursery rhymes but i have no memory of this at all. they just lol it of and that was the end of that.&lt;br /&gt;But slowly i am piecing together things and when i hear the voice of a little girl. Is it the girl i become. i don't know ? i hear two voice out side my head. one off a little girl and one of an angry man. I am stating to get confused with this stuff what going on. As i only seem to miss time when no one around to see it. except when i was at the 80s weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sigh&lt;br /&gt;em xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-2939269482051943780?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/2939269482051943780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/there-is-only-so-long-you-can-hold-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/2939269482051943780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/2939269482051943780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/there-is-only-so-long-you-can-hold-this.html' title='UPDATE'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-4434705555541252707</id><published>2009-03-10T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T10:31:52.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>who am I</title><content type='html'>My therapist asked me this question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;                                                          who are you ?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there thinking for at least 10 minutes or so. Then went on to say i am a mum, a wife, a friend, a sister. Then stopped and my mind went blank. I went home thinking of that question for the rest of the day. I still dont know the real answer to that question.  I though I am my past and that's affect the future. Then i realized that i was still living in the past.&lt;br /&gt;Then i though of the future and what life would be like, being at peace with my child hood abuse. I tackle some issues then think yes i made it . Then some thing would trigger me.&lt;br /&gt; I dont think i be ever truly happy. people contently remind me of my past.&lt;br /&gt;example (My husband talking to his mum about a holiday they had. )&lt;br /&gt;Then it would make me think back .  On how my child-hood was rob away. I some time feel my self get jealous of my own son and friends for have a loving mum and dad and take him on days out and play game and going on  holiday. How bad its that?  that you are jealous of your own son and husband and friends that they had a better child hood then you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they look at me and then expect me to say a memory of my child hood that was a happy . but the thing is i dont remember any thing that was good in my child hood not one thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how can you draw a line when you are constently reminded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well iam going to call it at that for now and i carry on with my though and feeling as time goes on&lt;br /&gt;thanks for reading this&lt;br /&gt;em xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-4434705555541252707?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/4434705555541252707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-am-i.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/4434705555541252707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/4434705555541252707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-am-i.html' title='who am I'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-1519501804656343797</id><published>2009-02-26T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T11:07:21.318-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the clearing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SabnULXbT7I/AAAAAAAAABA/ulJMFIkKfdM/s1600-h/P1030241.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307183544737157042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SabnULXbT7I/AAAAAAAAABA/ulJMFIkKfdM/s320/P1030241.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dredging a river of emotions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a dirty river in my mind&lt;br /&gt;Filled with silt composed of nasty things&lt;br /&gt;Imposed guilt, self hatred, and upsetting memories&lt;br /&gt;To free my emotions I must dredge that river&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must clear the toxins from it by dealing with my past&lt;br /&gt;I must bring up the muck a little at a time&lt;br /&gt;For the silt took many years to accumulate&lt;br /&gt;It is impossible to deal with all at once&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I must concentrate on an issue at a time&lt;br /&gt;Self-hatred has eased a bit through life experiences&lt;br /&gt;However dealing with memories is most difficult&lt;br /&gt;I chose to dissociate myself from them&lt;br /&gt;Now I must admit that they are fully mine&lt;br /&gt;And that I must deal with them at this time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my emotions will have had time to recover&lt;br /&gt;I will no longer spend my life an emotional numbness&lt;br /&gt;Unable to express what others express so freelyThe full river of emotions will once again become mine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;em xxx&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-1519501804656343797?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/1519501804656343797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/dredging-river-of-emotions-there-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/1519501804656343797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/1519501804656343797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/dredging-river-of-emotions-there-is.html' title='the clearing'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SabnULXbT7I/AAAAAAAAABA/ulJMFIkKfdM/s72-c/P1030241.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-5299819374075164556</id><published>2009-02-25T02:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T02:07:58.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>emotions and mixed up feeling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaUYFTO_ueI/AAAAAAAAAA4/EDWDZmuLJV4/s1600-h/P1030521.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306674215267580386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaUYFTO_ueI/AAAAAAAAAA4/EDWDZmuLJV4/s320/P1030521.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I hate to show my feeling to everyone because it hurts so much. My feelings are all messed up and i just stopped caring. I just feel like giving up on the easiest things in life. Well i am at the point of just giving up. But my friends are holding me back. It kills me inside knowing that they know about what is going on in my head. The feelings inside are like HELL. Its inside ME and all I want to do is to kill it. &lt;br /&gt;It seems that my child and husband is the only thing really keeping me going&lt;br /&gt;I didn't trust myself to be alone. I keep weighing the pros and cons, and I know I'm probably too chicken to do it, but I can't fantasizing these days about it... and that scares me..&lt;br /&gt;I sleep through half of the day, but when I get up, I don't feel rested. I still feel tired, and I don't know what to do first, or where to start. I'm not interested in "doing" anything. I have to "force" myself to do anything. I have no desires, except to eat&lt;br /&gt;Food has no taste. My house is getting messy again. My words don't come when I'm trying to talk to someone. I sound like I'm in  grade school when I speak. My vocabulary sounds like a second grader. Really.&lt;br /&gt;At least my loving husband is being very patient with me. Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to get better, but things I've tried just don't work. I find it hard to do any house  work anymore, because I cry uncontrollably over nothing, just like a big baby! I hate that, but I CAN'T help it.&lt;br /&gt;its like this one line from a limp bizkit song- "its just one of those days that i dont wanna wake up, everythings f####d, " except that its not "just one of those days"- its each and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-5299819374075164556?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/5299819374075164556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/emotions-and-mixed-up-feeling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5299819374075164556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5299819374075164556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/emotions-and-mixed-up-feeling.html' title='emotions and mixed up feeling'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaUYFTO_ueI/AAAAAAAAAA4/EDWDZmuLJV4/s72-c/P1030521.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-9160114817736116221</id><published>2009-02-25T01:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T02:01:44.712-08:00</updated><title type='text'>may art work and poem</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaUU4IH5IsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_B8RzRiylSQ/s1600-h/P1030309.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306670690411815618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaUU4IH5IsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_B8RzRiylSQ/s320/P1030309.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My C.P.N asked me to do this pieces of work and poem . what ya think ? I found it hard than i though. i could not draw the stuff so i had to photo copy it in stead. talking is so easy and it over and done with no mark left. but doing this its open for every one to see. i also did a poem to go with it. but it left me feeling so low and in a little distress. iam writing this just to get it of my chest to see if it helps. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my childhood &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This young girl kept from sight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;crying into the middle of the night &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she fears that others will sense the shame &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but was this girl really too blame? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This little girl who was full of belief&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;could not from him seem to find relief &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she feels so dirty with her clothes which are tore &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when she is being flung on the bedroom floor &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This broken child lost her innocence&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At a very young age through a man’s deliberate rage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried to get away from this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found a friend who I could trust &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then asked me to stay one night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I said yes with delight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But that night was so sad &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man who made me so so mad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He tortured me with no care.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And told me not to share.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got it at home as well with a friend &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Will this torcher ever end?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried to tell my mum one-day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then to my surprise &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She said now way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While i was crying silent tears &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Nan was tucking into some beers &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why would no one come to my aid &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;day after day my happiness would fade &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;this went on for so so long&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one thought that this was wrong &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;this little girl that no one could save &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she longed for her peaceful happy days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;thanks for taking the time out to read my work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Em xxx&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-9160114817736116221?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/9160114817736116221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-c.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/9160114817736116221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/9160114817736116221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-c.html' title='may art work and poem'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaUU4IH5IsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_B8RzRiylSQ/s72-c/P1030309.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-1700253193747984553</id><published>2009-02-24T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T08:57:44.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'>welcome to my world</title><content type='html'>If reading this gets confusing or starts to give you a headache then I will have made my point. The point of the way this is written is to try to give the reader an active sense of what it feels like to live within the confines of borderline dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are borderline, you may relate, and this may help you to understand that you are not the "only one" who experiences the way that you feel. If you are a non-borderline perhaps this will serve to give you a peak inside of what the borderline in your life is living through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rage from nowhere, attached to nothing.... floating-freely from deep within me and ready in an instant to spew forth in what seem like instaneously-effortless bursts of unbridled entitlement to give me a sense of power amidst the feelings of helplessness that are my every waking moment. If I am helpless you are too powerful, no, I will be powerful. I will take your power away so you can be helpless. I don't do helpless. I am power. I must have the power. We can't both have the power. I want what is mine. You are mine right? I am not yours though, I cannot be any-body's because I am not even my own. I gave myself to you. We are each other right? I mean, what's the difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fear strikes me from all corners of my being. What, what is it that I am not seeing? Is not what I perceive what is really real? Why is it that I am the only one who sees what I see, just the way that I do? What does this mean? Surely this is what is wrong with the world right? I mean it can't be my problem. I am not afraid. I am not scared or weak or vulnerable. I need you..... NO!! ....I am strong and I don't need you. If you let me need you I won't want you anymore. And if you say I can't have you then I've got to have you. If you let me have you then I don't want you anymore. I want you when you don't want me and I need you when you won't help me. It is the biting and the pain of this cold distance that I know that somehow is familiar and is the feeling that I need to give me the illusion of safety. If I were truly safe I'd be exposed and not safe at all. Get away by coming closer and come closer by getting away. I am exposed most when I hide and hidden when I try to be who I think I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling alone, again, abandoned as always, alone, again. I am everyone and everyone is me. Who am I again? Oh yea, that person, and that person, and what this person, and this person, want. Where does that leave me when I am alone? Who am I then? Do I cease to exist if I am not in the company of someone off of whom I can bounce my existence and from whom all of my validation must come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with the world? Why can't they see my pain? Don't they know how incredibly much I hurt? Can't they see that I need them to hold some of this pain for me, validate it, and take it away; for my soul runneth over with agony. Why should I have to bear my own agony? It is not my fault. I didn't do this to me. I didn't choose to hurt like this. I am beside myself with all of this pain and anger and grief as is an infant whose mother is angry with him or her. What do I do with that angry face? It is not acceptance, it is rejecting me.....but I NEED it.....what am I to do? I don't know what to do so I put it beside me. Whatever it is, I leave it to sit there....and it builds over the course of a lifetime. It builds and it always hurts. It hurts even when I don't feel it at all. I need to get what I need. I'll die if I don't. I'll just die. I am dying to live and in my attempts to live I die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I have remained trapped inside this isolated, and insulated place of youth stunted in my emotional growth. I am a victim. It is not my fault. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt. Why don't you care? Why don't you care? Make it go away. Make it stop, just love me from over there. Love me, but don't you dare really care. It would hurt too much if you were to care. I wouldn't understand who you were caring for or about because I don't know who I am. I hate who I am and what I am. I hate whoever the hell I am. I have come to hate what it is that I might be, or sometimes am. I don't like the voided vaccum within which I feel like my being exists under a glass bubble. So close, yet so far away from others am I. So close, yet so far away, from whoever I am, am I. Who are you trying to care about? What does that mean, that you want to care about me? It would mean that I needed you to care. I don't need you to care but I am dying for you to care. Still, care from over there and don't act like I need you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rescue me, by leaving me alone...it'll kill me. Leave me alone but rescue me. I need you to rescue me if I am to live. I am not alive. I am dead. I am dead when I try to be alive. I am alive when I act like I'm so dead I can't feel anything. There is such a sharp feel to the pain of numbness. Feeling the absence of myself like this. Where do the feelings go? Where does all of that pain hide? I dissociate from all that hurts. I give it to others. It is their fault, and their problem, not mine. Help me, while you leave me alone. Leave me alone while you help me. NOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the center of the universe. Yes I am. I am it and it is me. I will act this way too, if I feel like it. No, you can't win. I will win. I'll get you coming and I'll get you going and there will be no way that you can win. I must always win. I need to control because I feel so helplessly out of control, but you can't know that. You can't know that okay, you don't know that about me. I don't know that about me. I don't know you and cause I don't know me. You can't know me either. No, I won't let you in to a place that I have yet to gain access to. No, me first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I? I thought I knew just a minute ago. Then, suddenly nothing felt familiar anymore. Nothing felt okay anymore: nothing felt SAFE anymore - nothing felt as it had before. Why does this happen and what does it mean? What do you mean you don't know? You are supposed to know. I expect you to know. And if I expect it then I have a right to demand it from you. Don't go asking me for anything, NO, it depends how I feel, and what I believe in any given moment...you just never can know cause I never know what I'll do or say or feel. Every moment changes and shifts from one to the next. What is real, what is truth, whether or not I think I can take care of myself or what I feel, or right or wrong, from minute to minute changes, so I really just don't know. I don't care to know. Don't bother me about it. Leave me alone, just stay here. And be quiet while you talk to me. Talk to me silently. Words can hurt. Don't be too quiet in your silence though, because silence can kill a soul. I know, it killed mine over and over again. Dead, time and time again, risen hopes, only to fall and to die, unanswered, arms outstretched, never reached for, never grasped, arms that hung outstretched while a little girl screamed in terror and fear and had more need than any infant could possibly bear to hold. Arms...that had to hold themsleves, suspended in mid air, left alone, ignored. Arms that would take another 36 years to ever dare to reach out again. So hold me, and rock me -- rock me to stillness -- gently okay, just don't touch me really, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth, you want to talk truth? Whose truth, yours or mine? Is there a truth between? No, my truth is truth. Your idea of truth is a lie. I don't lie. If I don't lie and our truths aren't the same that makes you a liar. Does so....just does. If I am right then you are wrong. Yes you are. No I'm not. If I am good then you are bad if you don't agree with me and or see things my way. My way isn't just right, it is the only way. What matters is what I want and need. That's my truth. And my truth is the truth. Don't you even try to lie to me, don't...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know things but they seem fleeting. What is real and important one minute is fragile and or gone and or misunderstood-misperceived and mis-interpreted by me the next minute. I don't know why? You were here a minute ago and it mattered. But then you left. While you were gone for three minutes and fifty-four seconds (clock time -- forever in my own sense of the reality of time) I forgot that you mattered to me and now I find it incredibly impossible to believe that you could love me and leave me just like that for three minutes and fifty-four seconds...to wait and to suffer like that, alone, isolated and afraid. Don't ever do that again. Promise me! Do you have any idea what you put me through? My parents left me like that. It's not alright for you to just be you and not be me -- while I'm being you too. I know things seem fleeting. Things keep changing. I can't hold anymore than I am whether I am holding anything or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You live in a "big picture." Life, so I am told unfolds in some "big picture" of reality. I live in millions of little pictures. Millions of pieces of reality. Snap shots from the whole, fragmented seconds of minutes that seem to encompass hours. I can't tell what is going on around me like you do. No, it does not make sense to me. Part of this picture lined up with part of that one...what am I supposed to see? What can I know from these mixed up jigsaw puzzle messages? I get part of it. I don't understand the rest. First you seem to make sense, then you don't so I get angry and frustrated. In one part of the picture I care about you but in another part of the picture I remember out of context when you said this or that and then I can't trust you anymore, or not until the next moment when two picture pieces fit briefly together. This is my experience. So one minute I want you close, from a distance and the next minute I want you distantly-close. This is what is going on inside of me. I don't want to hurt you like I do I just don't know how to make sense of all of these jumbled messages and fragmented pictures that bombard my mind constantly with images and thoughts that do not fit together, not now, not ever, hardly ever anyway. If memories are pictures of the way things were (or the way things are?)then my memories, like strewn screams, echo to a voided-abyss in a cavernous canyon. Imagine all of that sound overlapping itself. Could you hear me then, any better than I can hear you now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;welcome to my world&lt;br /&gt;em xxxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-1700253193747984553?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/1700253193747984553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-reading-this-gets-confusing-or.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/1700253193747984553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/1700253193747984553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-reading-this-gets-confusing-or.html' title='welcome to my world'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-4240557736477901614</id><published>2009-02-24T04:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T05:01:30.137-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A little about the voice i hear</title><content type='html'>The voice  seem to be in the room with me not in my head.  Just like some sitting over in the corner of the room.  i allso hear walking and door ring and phone ringing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl is about 6 years and  her name is Isabella, She is very shy and very easily upset. She also has a nasty side to her. She sings nursery rhymes. she is just like a little girl . she is very sweet  voice and she always asking me to play with her .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man is about 36ish and name is Chris, He so vindictive and always thinks there is a motive to every thing, He also tries and put people in to good, evil and pretender categorises. He also tries to validate that he is real all the time. Most of the time he just so nasty and calls every one down, that included me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am on meds mirtazpine 45mg, Quetiapine 300mg&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-4240557736477901614?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/4240557736477901614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/little-about-voice-i-hear.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/4240557736477901614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/4240557736477901614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/little-about-voice-i-hear.html' title='A little about the voice i hear'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-5026636015597751055</id><published>2009-02-23T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T09:15:18.549-08:00</updated><title type='text'>self-harm and reasons</title><content type='html'>I was13 when I first started to self-harm. I just to self –harm in two ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First way was overdoes and the second was to rub my arms, legs and tummy till they bleed.&lt;br /&gt;The overdose there was different reason for this:&lt;br /&gt;1) Was to get all the bad out of me.&lt;br /&gt;2) It was also a way of losing weight. As after an over-dose. I would find it hard to eat. It made me feel sick all of the time and made my tummy feel full. OK it did not last long but it stopped my craving for a while.&lt;br /&gt; 3) I got the loving/caring attention I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friction burns there was different reason for this:&lt;br /&gt; 1) To show how much I was hurting in side.&lt;br /&gt;2) I wanted to say in the life I once knew. (Where I was being hurt, beaten and burned etc and punished for me doing wrong.) As the world seemed scary and unpredictable.&lt;br /&gt;3) I got the loving/caring attention I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;4) It was a way of balancing good and bad. So it was a way of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I did self-harm I felt safe and satisfied may be because it was all I known.&lt;br /&gt;It’s been 2 years since I last took and over-dose and 1 year since I friction burned.&lt;br /&gt;OK I do some times feel the need to self-harm but I think of my family and what it does to them. It hit home when I went into the therapeutic community. They help me realizes the consequences of my actions. They showed me that when I self-harm people was hurting inside to. I was not only making my life hell. I was doing it to them my family and friends. How they showed this to me was I became friends with people in the community they had to trust me, work along side me. Most of all live with me. I had to do this in return for them. So it was hard for them or me to see them hurting them self. It made me think of all the pain and horrible feeling it had on my friends and family. It also had an affect on others as if they self-harmed it’s OK I can do it. Gave people permission to do it or an excuse. But you did not want the other person to self-harm so you also had to think of them as well as your self.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-5026636015597751055?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/5026636015597751055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/self-harm-and-reasons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5026636015597751055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5026636015597751055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/self-harm-and-reasons.html' title='self-harm and reasons'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447934533258905035.post-5322613629377068759</id><published>2009-02-23T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T09:01:22.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my story</title><content type='html'>I did this on Oct 16 2007, i have been doing my own blog on my personal PC and thought i share with people. If my story just help one person under stand my personality disorder i be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the age of 6 months.My mum and dad spilt up. Mum was having an affair with her another man. (Whom she is still with after 29 years.) The other man gave my mum an ultimatum it was her boyfriend or me. Mum gave me to her boyfriends mum. (Whom I call Nan.)As Nan did not want to see me put into care. She offered to look after me.Nan was married to my granddad. My Nan had 3 daughters and 3 sons. As a child I only remember bad stuff. Like my Granddad walking out of the house after an argument and never came back. Nan was getting drunk all the time. D who was one of my Nan’s sons although he was in is 20’s he had a mental age of a 6 year old. Always hit and beat me. Making me do thing I did not want to do. I remember one time he had an air pistol gun that you could put in little darts in. Then he was told me to do stuff and if I did not do it he would shoot me. He made me put my hand in a coal fire. He would push me down the stairs. Lock me in my room for days with out food. Made me clean the floors naked with a toothbrush and bleach etc. There is more but I would be here all week typing it all out. As my Nan was drinking all the time she did not know any thing was going on. I did tell her one-day but she was to drunk to listen. So I went to my mums one day to ask her I could live with her. She said no. So I told her why I wanted to live with her. Her response was I don’t believe you and sent me back to my Nans. This was also affecting my school life too. People told me I stunk and I was fat etc. Te reason for this was I only could fied food, as I did not have an oven or the vegetables or meat to cook. As my Nan drink the money. I would go to the pub with her. As a child people would give me money to by some sweets but I went to the chip shop. Also I had to take her home undress her when she pass out from the age of 7years. With D always on my back. I would try every thing to go to a friend’s house. To stay over for tea and to sleep over. The first few nights was great I had a dinner then a story read to us. But as I stay over more and more he would take advantage of me. I was asked to bring a friend round too. Then he made me do things to her too. This happened over a five year gap. I would go home to be beaten then go to my friends to be sexually abused. That was my child hood. Then one day I rang the social services for help and told them every thing. My friends dad was put into prison. Then I put my self into care at the age of 11. So I went to a family who had one son. My foster family was really nice at first but it went from one extreme to another. They watched me like a hawk. I would also sleep talk and walk and if they asked me questions and I would tell them every thing I did that day. I could not cope with the way they was in my face. They also said they treated me as on of the family. Things started to go wrong they were constantly watching me asking teachers what I was like at school. Even to a point of becoming friends with one of my teachers. I stared tanning to become a Care assistant at an old people home and bring in my own money £ 35 a week. I had to pay £30 for board leaving me with £5 a week to by soaps and women thing. I also had to buy my own towels, bedding, washing powder etc leaving me with nothing to go with my mates. Then I started to get depressed, have panic attacks and flash backs and I had to go into hospital for my own safety as I wanted to kill my self. I was in there for 5 month’s as I was getting better I started a self help group and met my husband there. I walked in the room and saw Steve sitting in the corner from that minute we knew that something special was going to happen. We arranged to go out together; despite the group warning us it wouldn't work. (What do they know eh?) Within, two months we were engaged. A year later we had our own place. Another year and we were married. We went off, just the two of two friends, to the Peak District and us and got married quietly. Just when we thought things couldn't get any better, four months later, we found out I was expecting. It was Boxing Day and I wanted to go to the chemist. Steve thought it was odd, but hadn't got a clue what was going through my mind. i bought a pregnancy kit and we just didn't know what to say. We were so happy when it came out positive. Rowan has changed our lives no-end. We have had so many laughs with him it is unbelievable.I had depression bad with rowan and things started to get worse. So I went into hospital and the therapist told me about therapeutic community. Rowan was about 3 years of age I went for 6 months at Frances Dixon lodge. I had to come of all meds and stop self-harming. But I did it! . It was hard I had therapy 24 hours day and night. With support when ever I need it. I found it to hard to open but I did a little bit but then found my self. Missing my husband and child. I only got to see them at weekends. I put my therapy on hold because I could not get on with another resident. I wanted to be like her and she wanted to be like me total clash. Then one day I could not hold it any more I had the biggest argument with her leading to be voted out by the community. As I scared her but pushing her out of the way to get out of the building. As I was so mad with her. I got home and things stared to fall apart because I felt like I was just dropped and the can of worms was open that could not be closed. So I was at home for about two years and had some one to one with a therapist. I got a job at the local supper market. 4 hours a day. Then one day some one walked in to the store, which I remembered from my passed. It was one of the people who abused me. Well this made me fall into a psychotic episode. I heard a voice and I was not very well at all. I pushed every one away from me. Then started to self harm again and they put me back on a loads of meds. The meds streted to work and I started to come out of the episode. So I asked if I could go back to the community. I went back but there was different people and I kind of known what was expected from me. I did their therapy and learned loads on how to cope with life and learned that there was more to life than me in pain. I looked around and seen my son playing and husband with him having fun. That was it I now know what ever happened to me as a child has gone and there was no need to live there any more. I was not afraid any more of living life. Until now march 07 I was free from meds for a year and a half. I was living life and I was so happy. I was enjoying my son playing and helping him with is homework even enjoyed having him home on school holidays. I was having fun for the first time in ages. Then thing started to go all-wrong. I started with feeling really tired then snapping at every one around me. I did not really see what was going on. Till it took my husband a bottle of wine and a two glass of whisky to tell me that things was not right. So I rang my CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) to tell her things was not right. So then she rang the psychiatric doctor to get him to assess me. He diagnosed me with a depressive illness. I am finding it hard to cope once again. The bad thoughts are coming back and also I want to self-harm again. It’s so hard as I thought I was out of mental health services. To have all my happiness and able to cope with life pulled away is so cruel. I feel I am back to square one again. I all I hope it the meds the doctor gave me start to work soon. As things have started to fall even deeper. I hear the voice again. I have not told any one just yet as my husband is found it hard to cope with last time. I know he has to know some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oct 16 2007,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447934533258905035-5322613629377068759?l=em-bpd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/feeds/5322613629377068759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5322613629377068759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447934533258905035/posts/default/5322613629377068759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://em-bpd.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-story.html' title='my story'/><author><name>Em's</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08597990173170796607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2nmZazM1SPo/SaLb3wTpS0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/vvOEJgyV_io/S220/P1010636.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
