Monday, January 08, 2018

What it looks like vs what it feels like

The Emperor and I spent last night forging new friendships. As these are not people that were already his friends, not people that I am I trying to be my best me around, I could just be me. In fact that was a big part of last night, All of us being open and honest, so we could really see if we actually clicked. One of the members of the group is a therapist and called into question my diagnosis of borderline personality disorder. She said that I exhibited a self-awareness and a level of empathy that most borderlines do not. It was a great compliment from a woman I m coming to like and respect. But, as I pointed out to the Emperor on the drive home, she has only seen who I am when I am out there. Not who I m on my worst days. 

A few months ago, the Emperor and I started watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on Netflix. The show centers on Rebecca, a Harvard and Yale educated New York lawyer who moves to e small town outside of LA to be near a guy she dated as a teenager at summer camp, with musical numbers in each episode revealing characters inner lives. Over the course of the first two seasons, she engages in all sorts of shenanigans (stalker behavior played for laughs) to get closer to this guy, even managing to date and become engaged to this guy, only for him to not show up for their wedding. This last Friday, we tapped into CW online to binge watch this season so far. After being left at the altar, Rebecca starts to spiral out of control and alienate her friends, her wacky hi-jinks becoming scary movie stalker behavior. She flees back to her mother's house in New York and her breakdown climaxes in a suicide attempt, hospitalization, and diagnosis as....yep, borderline. In the episode with the diagnosis, her therapist tells her that she must exhibit five of the ten symptoms that she lists. I ticked off what I feel I exhibit on my hand as the show flashbacked to our protagonist's behavior in previous episodes, as she her exhibits many of them. I got to 7. She got to 9. 

When we started watching the show, it was a bit of a lighthearted joke. "This is what it's like in your head all the time, huh?" the Emperor asked as the songs in Rebecca's head revealed her "sexy" getting ready time, which is not so sexy, and her hope that the sexy stranger she brings home won't be a murderer, and we see this very smart woman act in ways that don't always make sense and are often self-sabatoging. Obviously, he and I suspected that her crazy might also be my crazy. I still think that they managed to create a very flawed but still sympathetic character, especially for the viewer who has dealt with mental illness. But as this current season started to unfold, we were both faced with how dark life can get when dealing with this mental illness, especially given the parallels to my suicide attempt last spring. 

But I was impressed with how they handled it and felt good about how much better I was doing then last spring, or even a few months ago, when my depression reared its ugly head with the longer days and the time change. Then, our friend said what she said. I was feeling pretty good about where I am. 

Then today hit. Last night, I had several drinks and stayed up way too late, resulting in too little sleep before a very busy Monday at work. While I was at work, I mostly felt good. At least I didn't feel sleepy, but that is what happens when you are running around the whole time. I did have several periods through the day where I felt a little lost. Sometimes the amount of work around you, the sheer feeling that it is never ending, can be very daunting, can leave me feeling unsure about what to do next. But it was still mostly fine. Then came the text conversation about dinner. 

I am usually late from work on Mondays and the Emperor was supposed to have a work function keeping him out later than usual, probably later even than I would be. We don't currently have many things that would be easy for me to make that we haven't eaten a million times so this moring I suggested we scavenge - leftovers or cereal or soup, each person eating whatever they wanted. But over lunch I checked my calorie counter app and I had the calories in there to have fried chicken, which I had been craving. I decided to bring the idea up to the Emperor over text. Of course, I waiting until later in the day, as my day got to to it's busiest time, when I was already frazzled and wouldn't have as much time to answer back. I am going to write what the actual texts were, along with what went on in my head. Even as it was happening, a little part of me, a part of me that had a little more distance on the situation, could tell it was a perfect example of how I am not as ok as I seem. 

Me (3:46pm): I have room in my calories for fried chicken tonight. Would you like me to pick up some? Or do you have a better idea for dinner? 
Him (4:01pm): What happened to scavenging?

OMG it's not like that is always better calorie wise either. I'm kinda tired of cereal and there really isn't enough spaghetti for both of us. And I know that i'm supposed to be helping out with dinner ideas too but there just isn't much that I can make right now, even less that I feel like he would like. Maybe I could text the Professor and ask him how to make fajitas? How did he not make the meat all tough when he cooked it? If I got out early enough I could hit the grocery store. Ugh. But I'm gonna be tired and I don't want to do that. It's not like he's offering up any ideas or thinking he's going to not be too tired to cook. Fuck. I thought I was doing ok at helping out with the cooking. And I know that going out to eat all the time was a problem with his ex but I don't feel like we do it all the time and I'm going to be buying this anyway. Fine. Fuck it. I'm just not going to eat. If we're scavenging, he can scavenge his own and I'm just not going to eat. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don't need fried chicken. [Note to the reader: he never actually said that at all.] But he'll get mad if I don't eat anything because it will be seen as being all passive aggressive. And it is. And I shouldn't do that. Fuck. Ok, so what does he want me to make?

Me (5:01pm): Just been craving. Fits in my calories. If I get more than we need for tonight we can scavenge it later. It's no biggie though. We can scavenge what we have. 
Me (5:01pm): Just an idea. You didn't seem to like scavenge idea this morning.
Him (5:20pm): You can get chicken. 

How did he mean that? Was it like you say smiling to your kid that they can have ice cream after they make a good case for it? Or begrudging like you say "fine you can have ice cream" to your kid? Is he gonna be upset with me when I get home that I made a shitty food choice and a shitty financial choice for going to get chicken? Fine, fuck it. I won't get chicken. We'll just scavenge. But if I go back on it after he already said ok, maybe I'm going to have a fight about it, either now over text when he's about to go do work stuff at 6, or when he gets home because he got his mouth all set for chicken and I didn't get chicken. Fuck this is so stupid. I have no idea how he means any of this just by these texts. This is such a perfect example of a time when a normal, not mentally ill person would just be having a regular conversation and I'm making it into this whole argument in my head when we aren't even having an argument and I'm getting mad over things he hasn't said at all. And I'm probably only doing this because I drank last night and didn't get enough sleep. There is absolutely nothing here except for what I'm making it out to be. 

Me (5:53pm): Thank you Sir. Have fun at the work thing. I'm about to leave work now. 

You know what happened when I got home? We kissed, we talked, we sat down and ate our chicken while we watched an episode of our current Netflix show. That's it. He's not upset. I'm not upset. We're both kinda tired and will probably be going to bed soon. That's it. But for the better part of two hours as my body was doing work, my mind was convinced of a million things that we're true, which worked me up and made me frustrated, angry, sad, and feel like I was a shitty partner and girlfriend. For absolutely no goddamn reason. But that is what the crazy is. It's the ineffective but seemingly inescapable tape that plays in our head about how fucked up we are, how fucked up others are, and how fucked up our lives are until we believe things that aren't true or aren't true in the extreme way we now believe they are and then we act on false belief. The more desperate and/or helpless that tape leaves us feeling, the more desperate and extreme our actions become. No, I have never moved across the country for an old flame like Rebecca or done most of the crazy stalker-y behavior that she does in the show, but I have acted impulsively, extremely, ineffectively, and on ideas I was sure were true that weren't. I do better now. Most of the time. On most days. But I'm still not "normal" and I'm pretty sure I never will be. Not even in the ways that I wish I was or try really hard to be. But I still have to try. 

I think for me one of the most true things in the show was when Rebecca tells one of a friend who was very scared for her after the suicide attempt that she can't promise her that it won't happen again, even though she wishes she could. I often tell people that I can't tell them that either, and that I know for sure that I will probably be hospitalized more times in my life, though I do hope that it is because I chose to go into a hospital for a med change rather than after a suicide attempt. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do with ourselves is not set ourselves up to fail, to let "failure" be a part of the plan all along, to accept that we will fall off the wagon but what matters more is that we get back on it.