I'm reading a book. Quite possibly the best book I have read in a very long time - or on the other hand, simply the perfect book for this moment in my life. It's called The Buddha and the Borderline. As far as I am concerned, it is brilliant. The author, a BPD sufferer, is lucid, intelligent, observant, witty and emotive without drowning her message in feelings to the point where the thread of her core story is lost. And her core story is a truly amazing journey, from sickness, through insanity and despair, to a version at least, of health and recovery.
I'm only part way through. It's so good I've had to force myself to put it down to come and make a few short notes of my own. If it sounds like the sort of thing that you might like to look into further, you can find information about it here:
http://buddhaandborderline.com/18.html
Wow - what a story. What a great story. AND - it's true. AND - she (if her story is anything to go by) is/was way way way more sick and suffering than I have ever been .... AND she recovered! I can't wait to read more. Not only is the book a great source of information about borderline personality disorder, what it is, how it might be diagnosed, and what it feels like to live inside it - it's a book that is also a bit of a roadmap to recovery, or at least a mud map to recovery! Wow, cool. Inspiring. Here's a light at the end of the tunnel that probably ISN'T a train. Awesome!
So - reading this has been a big focus for the past day or so. I downloaded it on my Kindle. Thank goodness for my Kindle. A gift from my partner, first for Christmas, and then when I lost that one when my work briefcase was swiped (when I put it down somewhere and stupidly walked off without it), he was gorgeous enough to replace it, for my birthday. I haven't read this much in ages - a lot because of the eye strain. Yes, I need glasses, well - I would if I were going to read ordinary print books with consistent comfort. With the Kindle, on the default sized font, I can read and read without this huge urge to put down my 'book' which then leaves me wondering why I used to love reading so much and how come I don't love it, and just can't engage with it anymore.
Well - since I got my Kindle I DO love reading, and don't want to put my book down. What a revelation! I had seen quite a lot of people with e-readers, commuting on the train. I really wanted to get a closer look each time I noticed someone, but always felt it was impolite to stare, or to nudge a perfect (or maybe completely imperfect) stranger and say: 'can I have a go?'. I talked to a woman at work who was in one of my classes one day and who I noticed standing outside during the break, reading on one. She enthused hugely about hers, and absolutely swore by it. They really did sound great, but I remained hesitant - partly because iPads are so shiny and tempting (albeit about 5 to 6 times the price). The matter was taken out of my hands when I received one as a gift. I think it's quite possibly one of the absolute best gifts anyone has ever given me - which says a lot considering this is written by a woman whose lover proposed to her just a couple of short nights ago.
WHAT?!?! A marriage proposal? A marriage proposal and I'm talking to you about BPD, and e-books. Yes - that is how overpowering and all encompassing this disorder can be. Does it mean I don't love my man? Of course not. Does it mean I'm not over the moon about what he did. Well, no. But what it does mean is that because the ring didn't fit (too small) and it has now been tucked away somewhere in it's little box, pending a replacement .... and because I know my guy believes that before proposing, a man must ask a woman's father for her hand in marriage ... and he has never met my dad - well, I "know"* that it wasn't a real proposal. It was a gesture of love and commitment borne partly, I am sure, out of a desperation to illustrate to me that he is HERE for me and will continue to be HERE for me, no matter what, as we fight this battle together. Gods and little fishes willing, as time goes on we will fight my demons together more than we fight with each other.
*I think most people with some kind of mental illness or another "know" a lot of things. Sometimes facts, figures and the assertions of others are completely unable to dislodge that kind of "knowing". What would it take, for me to "know" it differently? The scary sad thing is: I don't know!
Do I love this man? Absolutely, and without a doubt. When I'm in my sane mind, that is. When I'm in my horrible borderline/depressive/call them what you will lows (low is just not low enough word - perhaps troughs, or valleys, chasms, or ravines would better describe these places) I sometimes feel or believe, and even more horribly, say - that I don't love him .... but underneath that fear and anger talking, in a small, scared and quivering corner of my soul - I can always sense (but not always acknowledge) the me that feels more truly like the real me, squeaking in a quiet, desperate and frightened way: but you DO love him, you are just scared that NOBODY could love you, so it's safer to say you DON'T, and to drive him away.
Welcome to my world. It's not always a pretty place.
No lasagne plans today? Wait - the au pair cooked some bolognese a few days ago and there's leftovers. And there are lasagne sheets. If there's an eggplant, perhaps I can fry or grill some slices and layer it all up with some béchamel, maybe with an egg through it and get some sort of moussaka/lasagne kind of thing happening.
Life goes on. Borderline or no borderline. Love endures, even sometimes when you spit in it's face.
To the gods and little fishes: thank you, oh thank you - for allowing the winds of the universe to blow such a special and treasured partner in my direction, and thank you, oh thank you for giving him the tenacity to cling to me and hold me through my darkest of hours.
I am blessed.
I'm only part way through. It's so good I've had to force myself to put it down to come and make a few short notes of my own. If it sounds like the sort of thing that you might like to look into further, you can find information about it here:
http://buddhaandborderline.com/18.html
Wow - what a story. What a great story. AND - it's true. AND - she (if her story is anything to go by) is/was way way way more sick and suffering than I have ever been .... AND she recovered! I can't wait to read more. Not only is the book a great source of information about borderline personality disorder, what it is, how it might be diagnosed, and what it feels like to live inside it - it's a book that is also a bit of a roadmap to recovery, or at least a mud map to recovery! Wow, cool. Inspiring. Here's a light at the end of the tunnel that probably ISN'T a train. Awesome!
So - reading this has been a big focus for the past day or so. I downloaded it on my Kindle. Thank goodness for my Kindle. A gift from my partner, first for Christmas, and then when I lost that one when my work briefcase was swiped (when I put it down somewhere and stupidly walked off without it), he was gorgeous enough to replace it, for my birthday. I haven't read this much in ages - a lot because of the eye strain. Yes, I need glasses, well - I would if I were going to read ordinary print books with consistent comfort. With the Kindle, on the default sized font, I can read and read without this huge urge to put down my 'book' which then leaves me wondering why I used to love reading so much and how come I don't love it, and just can't engage with it anymore.
Well - since I got my Kindle I DO love reading, and don't want to put my book down. What a revelation! I had seen quite a lot of people with e-readers, commuting on the train. I really wanted to get a closer look each time I noticed someone, but always felt it was impolite to stare, or to nudge a perfect (or maybe completely imperfect) stranger and say: 'can I have a go?'. I talked to a woman at work who was in one of my classes one day and who I noticed standing outside during the break, reading on one. She enthused hugely about hers, and absolutely swore by it. They really did sound great, but I remained hesitant - partly because iPads are so shiny and tempting (albeit about 5 to 6 times the price). The matter was taken out of my hands when I received one as a gift. I think it's quite possibly one of the absolute best gifts anyone has ever given me - which says a lot considering this is written by a woman whose lover proposed to her just a couple of short nights ago.
WHAT?!?! A marriage proposal? A marriage proposal and I'm talking to you about BPD, and e-books. Yes - that is how overpowering and all encompassing this disorder can be. Does it mean I don't love my man? Of course not. Does it mean I'm not over the moon about what he did. Well, no. But what it does mean is that because the ring didn't fit (too small) and it has now been tucked away somewhere in it's little box, pending a replacement .... and because I know my guy believes that before proposing, a man must ask a woman's father for her hand in marriage ... and he has never met my dad - well, I "know"* that it wasn't a real proposal. It was a gesture of love and commitment borne partly, I am sure, out of a desperation to illustrate to me that he is HERE for me and will continue to be HERE for me, no matter what, as we fight this battle together. Gods and little fishes willing, as time goes on we will fight my demons together more than we fight with each other.
*I think most people with some kind of mental illness or another "know" a lot of things. Sometimes facts, figures and the assertions of others are completely unable to dislodge that kind of "knowing". What would it take, for me to "know" it differently? The scary sad thing is: I don't know!
Do I love this man? Absolutely, and without a doubt. When I'm in my sane mind, that is. When I'm in my horrible borderline/depressive/call them what you will lows (low is just not low enough word - perhaps troughs, or valleys, chasms, or ravines would better describe these places) I sometimes feel or believe, and even more horribly, say - that I don't love him .... but underneath that fear and anger talking, in a small, scared and quivering corner of my soul - I can always sense (but not always acknowledge) the me that feels more truly like the real me, squeaking in a quiet, desperate and frightened way: but you DO love him, you are just scared that NOBODY could love you, so it's safer to say you DON'T, and to drive him away.
Welcome to my world. It's not always a pretty place.
No lasagne plans today? Wait - the au pair cooked some bolognese a few days ago and there's leftovers. And there are lasagne sheets. If there's an eggplant, perhaps I can fry or grill some slices and layer it all up with some béchamel, maybe with an egg through it and get some sort of moussaka/lasagne kind of thing happening.
Life goes on. Borderline or no borderline. Love endures, even sometimes when you spit in it's face.
To the gods and little fishes: thank you, oh thank you - for allowing the winds of the universe to blow such a special and treasured partner in my direction, and thank you, oh thank you for giving him the tenacity to cling to me and hold me through my darkest of hours.
I am blessed.
No comments:
Post a Comment