The month of May (thus far) hasn’t been the easiest. I’m sorry for not updating more often.
Juggling my mental health with being a mom hasn’t been easy. I’m still recovering from January, and while I can say I’m a lot better than I have been – I haven’t reached that last hurdle yet. My motivation and drive to do things has been pretty low, and it’s taken time alone (in small doses – lots of time alone equals hallucinations/panic attacks due to overthinking) and time with people I trust to centre me, to really get back to where I used to be.
I managed to plan Kyle’s first birthday party and that went well. It’s so strange to think that this time last year, I was still in confinement with a tiny baby boy and now my little boy is a bouncing one year old. Who throws tantrums. And pulls faces when you try to give him medication. So basically, any other toddler.
It’s not for lack of trying to be better. I reach out to my support system. I’m vocal about my needs, and wants. I try my best to tell people when I’m not okay instead of self-isolating. I still spend a good portion of my day crying for no absolute reason, except that I’m upset and I’m insecure.
That’s a key point of BPD, May happens to be the awareness month for BPD so I’ll go back into that for a bit: rapid, violent swings in emotion and excessive attachment to people. I’m so attached to my friends and my partner and my family, and any sign of disapproval tends to break my heart. I’m not great at reading people, and I’m even less great at giving them what they want half the time because I’m just… too much?
Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m too much for the people around me. I want to be patient and kind to myself, but those two things aren’t even high scoring traits for me. I keep thinking that one day, all the people around me are just going to up and leave because I was too much or wasn’t enough. I live with that insecurity everyday, as illogical as it is. Like, Kyle’s a baby. Am I worried he’s going to grow up and hate me? Yes. Do I worry that my boyfriend is finally going to get sick of my sh*t and leave? Yes. Do I worry that my friends find me whiny and annoying? Yes. Are all of these things illogical? Pretty much. But I can’t swallow the idea that something bad is not going to happen to me.
Losing my loved ones in any way is an absolute nightmare, one that wakes me up in the middle of night in a cold sweat. I dream about it sometimes, I wake up clutching my pillow and needing to call any one of the people I consider important in order to make sure that I haven’t lost them.
To my friends and family reading this, thank you for sticking by me during my dark periods. It means a lot that you haven’t left, even if I keep whining that you might.