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Alexander the Great
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About happiness
   Thu Aug 30, 2012 7:00 pm
BPD: "I know, but I don't feel it"
   Tue Aug 21, 2012 10:14 pm

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About happiness

Permanent Linkby Alexander the Great on Thu Aug 30, 2012 7:00 pm

Is happiness a verb, a skill, or both?

STRUGGLE FOR HAPPINESS

For a long time, too long, I believed that I was looking for happiness, actively searching it, when in reality I was waiting for it to knock on my door and present itself, and I’d just embrache it, and all would be well. I didn’t realise that it doesn’t work that way.

For years, I felt confused about myself. Every teenager goes through an identity crisis – it’s part of growing up – but mine never seemed to end. It lasts still. I don’t know who I am, or how much of me is who I pretend to be for the sake of people I care about.

I’ve made some pretty important discoveries about myself, but only ever fragments, the parts of yourself you fill out on forms, or use to introduce yourself to someone new, or to be part of a group.

When I was a teenager, I listened to metal music. I loved the music, of course, but there was more to it than that after a while. I never felt I truly belonged to that ‘scene’. I loved it, though, because there’s so little judgement and so much acceptance. I desperately needed open-mindedness and acceptance. I felt comfortable in that world, and I loved the music, and it kept me going in a way. It was a safety net for me. It also provided me with that sense of identity that I was craving – the band shirts very clearly stated my preferences, and it put me in a group, in a box. I needed a box, a label, because it gave me an identity, and it meant I was someone. I pretended that I belonged, but I always knew that I never truly, fully did. I had a relationship of giving and taking with it, but it was never fully me.

On the inside, I hated myself. I’m not entirely sure why, but I absolutely loathed myself. I sank in the deep dark and it was a struggle to climb out. I felt very unhappy, and have felt that way for years on end, all through puberty. I felt like there was no place for me in this world, and I had no right to be here. Putting myself under the ‘metalhead’ label at least gave me a place, and people who knew me.

During these years of a lingering sense of depression, I was convinced that if someone would just love me, I would be fixed. I would be happy. Of course, that was an illusion. I did meet people who loved me, but I didn’t believe them when they said they did, and I suspected ulterior motives. Why would they love me? I couldn’t understand why anyone would – I hated myself too much, and it felt impossible that someone else would not hate me. I grew convinced they were lying and they needed something from me. In my defense, my school life worked that way – at first I was bullied, then I was ignored, unless my help was needed academically. I grew wary of friendship, and at some point became relieved that things worked this way for me, because at least it was clear and I knew where I was standing.

The only problem with it was that I stopped believing in the possibility of someone liking me and loving me for myself. I grew overly suspicious and didn’t believe anyone who said they loved me. I would test them. I’d lash out and be angry, moody, downright impossible. If they truly loved me, as they claimed they did, they’d accept it. That was my train of thought.

Of course, the only result was that I pushed people away. This, in turn, seemed to proove my point – I was unlovable. Vile, a freak. I felt empty, worthless, lifeless and drained.

When I did meet someone new, I’d cling to them desperately. I’d give myself entirely and it was always very overwhelming for that person, and inevitably, there came a point where it was just too much, and it chased them away. Once again, I felt my point was proven. I was not worthy of love, nobody would ever truly love me, so I could never be happy.

HAPPINESS AS A VERB

But it doesn’t work that way. You don’t find happiness floating with the wind, or growing on the trees, and it doesn’t come with someone who loves you. It became clear to me when reading an interview with Etienne Vermeersch recently – happine...

[ Continued ]

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BPD: "I know, but I don't feel it"

Permanent Linkby Alexander the Great on Tue Aug 21, 2012 10:14 pm

In my experience, one of the hardest parts of having BPD is that I know a lot of things, but I don't feel them. Somehow, because I don't feel them, it's as if they can't be true. My mind seems to tell me that if they were really true, I would feel them, wouldn't I?

Knowing vs Feeling

I know that my best friend loves me. I know she needs other people who give her other things. I know she can need me and other people, and love us equally. I know that her loving someone else and having a deep friendship with someone else doesn't mean that she can't have that with me.

I feel that because my best friend needs other people, I'm not good enough. I feel that I should be able to fulfil her every need, and that when she has me, she shouldn't need someone else. She does need other people, ergo I failed. I failed, so I'm nobody. I'm empty, meaningless, worthless. How can she love me if I failed? Nobody loves a failure. If she really loved me, I'd be enough for her. That's how I feel.

This is just an example of the contradiction. It's very hard to balance the two, and actively reminding myself that of what I know seems very hard work, to be likened to an intense physical activity.

My best friend has mental issues herself and doesn't understand emotions, so I tried to explain it to her. We work well together that way - I'm very in touch with my emotions and am able to explain them to her, and at times even explain her own emotions to her.

The following is a view on BPD and that balance between knowing and feeling.

Imagine the ocean. For those of you that saw Finding Nemo - imagine that world. You're standing on the shore, and something in the ocean glimmers, catches your eye, and you dive into it without thinking about safety or oxygen. You don't think - you follow that glitter. In the ocean, there are a lot of plants, corals, fish, mammals... nature of every size, sort, colour. You see one, and then another catches your eye and you swim over there. You're fascinated and you're completely into it. You're almost addicted - you can't stop. You swim from one thing to the other. You're so fascinated that the nature in the ocean becomes the world. It's surrounding you, and there's nothing else in the world but this.

But if you don't kick your legs and swim up to break through the surface of the ocean, you can't breathe. You just jumped in without thinking twice, so you're not wearing a wetsuit, you don't have oxygen tanks on your back, not even a snorkle. So you have to use the strength in your body to swim up and catch air, or you're in trouble. You were so blinded by all that oceanic beauty that you'd forgotten you needed to breathe. Only when you run out of breath, you remember. You break through the surface, and you see boats. You see boats, ships, islands, the coast... and you realise you were wrong before. You see clearly again - the ocean is not the world. The nature you just witnessed is only part of the world - and it's in the ocean. It's under sea level.

What is the link to BPD?

When you're standing on the shore, you're in a neutral state of mind. You're just chatting with your friend. Then something in the ocean glitters, catches your eye - that's your trigger. And before you know it, you're in the ocean. You're in the middle of your emotions, only the ocean is your BPD so your emotions are enlarged. Irrational at times. There's a lot of emotions, and you go from one to the other and you get further and further away from where you dove in. You lose track of the actual point to all this. The nature in the ocean is BPD. You get lost in it, wander forever, and forget the bigger picture.

Only when you are forced to remind yourself, you swim up to catch your breath. You actively use your legs to kick and swim up. Only when you are forced to, because you took it too far, or because the other person left feeling hurt, or because the other person stopped the argument, you pull back. You see the bigger picture, and you see that those...

[ Continued ]

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