…I fell off my pedestal.
It’s quite easy for me to think I’m doing just grand. Off medication, no longer requiring weekly/fortnightly/any sessions with my psychologist, and even my psychiatrist has told me to go away. Blogging daily, working on book number 3 – not a bump in the road to throw me off my metaphorical bicycle (see Thursday’s blog). It’s easy for me to think I’ve got BPD all sewn up. Not a problem anymore. I’m “recovered” (although I never like that word because you can’t recover from something programmed into your genes!).
Then that bump in the road comes out of nowhere. The hidden dip you weren’t even expecting.
I’m not going to go into details, but let’s just say I got myself all hyped up over something and came away rather rejected and disappointed. My main disappointment though, was with myself. Why had I let what happened GET to me so badly? Shouldn’t I have been able to cope better by now? Why was I writing my blog full of all this advice when, at the end of the day, a simple disappointment floored me?
It came to me, whilst crying down the phone to Lovely Boyfriend, that I’d put myself up on this pedestal. Just because my BPD hadn’t broken out for a couple of months, I thought I was on top of it. I thought that, because I could give all this great advice about what to do and how to think, I was in control. I thought that I had learnt the necessary skills to prevent a simple disappointment getting to me.
Well, pride comes before a fall because, guess what? I have BPD. That means my brain over-reacts and, like many others with BPD, rejection is a major trigger.
I don’t know who I thought I was, that I could completely overwrite my programming. I’m not Bill Gates.
So what have I learnt from yesterday afternoon? That I’m not infallible. That BPD is in-built; I can’t switch off my reactions. Sometimes I’m going to get more upset than I want to over something stupid and small, which in my mind will not be stupid and small but vitally important. And I have to live with that.
I’m getting there. The best thing I did was just get on with something else. Pulled out all those coping thoughts like “they didn’t reject me, just some ideas I had. It’s not the end of the world”. It’s still a bitter pill to swallow, dealing with my disappointment. It’s an even bigger bitter pill to swallow, realising that I was probably MORE upset with myself than with what had happened.
But that’s life, and it’s what we have to deal with when we live with BPD. What other people view as a minor incident, we view as a major one. Which makes me think the scriptwriters of TV soaps maybe have BPD…