Don’t Forget the Milk

On the way home from my comedy gig tonight my husband texted “don’t forget to pick up milk”.  This was as profound a statement as he could make at that moment and he doesn’t even know it.  His intent was very clear:  we need milk.

Let’s backtrack to a few hours early.  Today ended up being a bit triggering in unexpected ways.  I started out great, good attitude, love my job, blogged, did lots of work, managed projects and people, carved some wood, had a great day and then BAM!  A phone call kind of kicked me in the gut; I won’t go into details but it was about one of my children and it was something hard we have to deal with as parents with special needs children.

I said I’d address it when I get home.  I spent a wee bit of time on the ole facebook on my breaks on a page for the Ottawa Comedy Roast.  I was escaping in gentle banter and was feeling like “one of the gang” online.  I even made a silly comment about an old friend, someone who I think the world of even to this day.  This comment was taken a bit badly, it’s okay it’s a roast,  but it triggered a long list of feelings, al negative, and I was reminded yet again, that I am not normal and have BPD, and cannot engage in simple roasting type material.

I lashed out a bit, then more so lashed in big time.  I was so upset that I might have upset this one person that I felt truly ashamed to be me.  I assumed everyone hated me and that I deserved to die.  I still went did comedy, cried before, killed, then cried after.  Then the husband texted me about the milk and I smiled.

This, THIS is my life.  Pain goes on around the borderline but no matter how much pain I am in, at the end of the day we still need milk.  We still need food on the table and we still need to take care of our kids; and trust me they need some extra special care. 

I know that no matter how bad things get in my head that there are some truths:

  1. I will always get up, dress up and show up no matter how bad I feel.  I may be in the bathroom crying, but I get stuff done.  I am a good manager and I know my job.
  2. I will always be there for my children.  Hell, they may even be the reason I don’t crash my car on the side of the highway after a crying jag.  I love them.  I LOVE them and am a good mom.
  3. I have the most amazing husband, I really do.  All this pain is over a male friend who no longer wishes to be part of my life and insanity.  My husband is annoyed but works through it with me and is here, always.  He needs his time so tomorrow he plays ukulele with other nerdy type players but he’s always a rock to me and the kids.
  4. I was reluctant to put this, but I am a good person.  I am.  I may fall off the beaten path and lash a small amount but I am a good person.

I did get the milk and the cashier, seeing my tears, asks if everything is alright.  I tell them no, it’s shitty, but I got the milk so it’s going to be okay.

Thanks for listening,




Though they are felt intensely for people with Borderline Personality Disorder, they do leave eventually. It’s just about waiting for the storm to pass.

Some Days Suck

I have been writing about balance.  I have been writing about overcoming my disorder.  I have been writing about how great life is.  This is all true.  Until it’s not.

Today was bad.  Today is bad.  I won’t even go into the ins and outs because all that matters is the feelings that accompany them.  Today’s messages were all wrong in my head.  There was no beating them.  I tried being cheerful and cooking up a nice meal for my kids and playing a game.  I ended up leaving and making a few bad choices.  This only compounded the negative messaging.  I am nothing, no one wants to be friends with you because you are a useless whore.  You eff up everything you do and are no good to anyone; and these were the nicer messages.

I read a young gal’s blog about her recovery and it all seems so easy for her and others.  Maybe they are just stronger than me.  Maybe it’s not the mental health, maybe I do have a rotten core.  I should add that there is quite a bit of evidence to the contrary; I have a good family, a job I am doing great in, and for the most part my moods have been stabilizing; hell I even got gold stars from my therapist this week.  So everything is good, everything is good so why the hell do I want to die?  Why do these effing messages still come to me?  These messages which I act on and why people leave.  It is perhaps narcissistic to believe that everyone else with mental health issues deserves empathy and love and I don’t but that’s where the brain takes me.

So today is an epic wash in my mind.  I put on Grease 2 and even that is not helping; I mean if Michelle Pfeifer in leather pants can’t help my mood, then what can?

I am still, in all of this, thankful for the people who deem me worth staying.  Not only my lovely husband and children (who are the reasons I fight so much), but also the friends who understand the ups and downs, take breaks when needed but still love me for me.  Yes some good people have left and decided I wasn’t worth it, and I don’t blame them, but all I can focus on right now is the ones that stay, and believe in these darkest of moments that they stay for a reason, that they see beyond the rotten core and see the mom, wife, friend, comedian, artist and employee.  So to all of those people thanks, meegwetch and in the end it’s all up to me.

I won’t lie, writing this didn’t help like I thought it would, but maybe someone else is having a bad day and will go rent Grease 2, and if they feel better then at least I did one thing right today.

Everyday I don’t die is a success.  It’s a low bar but I’ll take it.

Thanks for listening.