Joy and the Emotionally Sensitive Person

'Sassy', I think this is one of my favourite words, and attitudes! There have been a large number of words used to describe me down the years: 'moody', 'drama queen', 'over sensitive', 'touchy', I could go on. However, the 'Sass' in me is fed up of the negative vocabulary attached to my diagnosis, that in itself seems confused. On my medical records the labels have changed from 'borderline', to 'emotionally unstable', to 'emotionally sensitive'. None really adequately conveys the reality of living in the emotionally sensitive skin.

As I progress in my recovery, I am beginning to find more positive words to describe my experience of life. When I see the worst in the world, the pain can almost certainly cause distress and unbearable pain. The flip side is that when I allow myself to focus on the good things in life, pleasant feelings are amplified into joy. I can really enjoy the small pleasures of life. Just as the pain and distress of life can be experienced by me to its depths, I am able to enjoy good feelings in wonderful technicolour. This is the freedom of owning my emotions and embracing the times of enjoyment, sometimes to the embarrassment of my companions. Dancing down the steps of the cinema, then taking a bow, following two hours of really enjoying a musical, is me allowing myself to express real joy, as much as I have let the reins go on my more destructive emotions. The difference is a little public expression of happy feelings is not destructive, in fact, perhaps my expression of strongly felt emotion was an echo of fellow cinema goers' enjoyment of the same film. The spontaneous applause from them as I skipped to the bottom step and turned round, was a moment of real shared joy, in a pretty unpleasant national and international setting.

I am good company, because I can take the smallest glimmer of enjoyment and amplify it (when I allow myself not to fear the strength of my positive emotions). Balance is important so that light feelings don't spiral out of control - but for too long the negatives of emotional sensitivity have led to me keeping my strengths in check.

I love the poem 'When I am Old I shall wear purple', except, now I'm 50 I'm not willing to wait until I'm old to embrace the best of my life experiences. Part of that is because I have allowed others to define what responses to my life are 'acceptable' for too long. The words I apply to me need to become: colourful, fun, strong, empathetic, sensitive to others, creative, optimistic - yes, really! I've realised recently simply because of my ability to come back from knockdowns and how I see what is possible, that I am an optimist. I believe in enjoying small pleasures just like a toddler - not out of control - but absolutely one hundred per cent, totally involving myself, body, mind and soul in enjoying the moment. Not childish, but childlike. It's no accident that the feel good clips most enjoyed on YouTube tend to focus on young children, kittens and puppies.

I'm currently watching the Winter Olympics and once again Elise Christie (GB Short Track Skater) has experienced unbelievable setbacks. One thing that a friend of hers said about her emotional responses struck me; she is able to embrace the pain and the feelings of despair so strongly, but unlike others, who can't do that, having faced the worst she can feel, she very quickly comes right back up again, ready to fight. Sometimes the emotional impact of the worst in life floors us for longer than we want. The fact that so many emotionally sensitive people face the worst thoughts and feelings about themselves and life, yet keep going, shows me there is always a seed of hope within. Building up the experiences of our most joyful moments, so they become a buffer against the bleaker times of life, helps us to be even more resilient than we give ourselves credit for.

Hope - the Double Edged Sword

I have neglected my blog here for the past few weeks, because I have become more involved in different projects, which I hope will lead to paid employment in time. It has been a struggle to balance what I 'think' I 'should be doing and what I can actually achieve while managing to maintain my sense of equilibrium. One of the 'jobs' I've taken on is a role as an Expert by Experience. Through engaging with local Mental Health services from a new perspective I have started to reflect on how I have changed over the past five years. One particular new development is that I am finding myself less fearful of hope than I used to be.

Throughout my life 'Hope' has been a concept/feeling/idea that was a double edged sword. Take the pre-Christmas time of year, for example. Every year I would look forward to the 25th December with absolute hope, faith and optimism that somehow my family would be transformed and that from that Christmas on, our lives would be transformed. It's not that I bought into any of the commercialism consciously, just that everyone tries harder over that period and so, a bit like when families are on show, we all tended to be on our best behaviour. Also the only expression of acceptance and love from our parents was in giving us material gifts. At Christmas there was an abundance, somehow I hoped this would continue into the new year, but every year that hope dissipated in the reality that our parents were effectively disinterested in our lives. Except when they were angry with us.

I learned to fear hope, and to avoid anyone or anything which gave me hope. If I could learn not to be 'deluded' by hope, then the pain and distress I experienced with my life, especially when my hopes were dashed, would be less sharply felt by me. It is easier to accept life in the gutter if I've never even noticed that I can see the stars from there, let alone reach for them.

The problem I have faced is that if I am to find a life worth living, then I need to have something to hope in. That there can be purpose and meaning to every experience in life, both good and bad. For me that has come from a faith in a God who is bigger than me and my life. For others, they find it in family and other relationships. This has helped me primarily to make peace with the worst experiences of my life. I can see the bits of my character that have been shaped not by the harm done to me, but by the resilience which has helped me to survive and build a life that I can enjoy. One of the most critical moments in my treatment was when my therapist told me there was help and therefore hope that my life didn't have to be determined by my emotions or my past experiences anymore.

It is easy to assume that the alternative to hope is despair. I have learned that, that doesn't have to be true. As I have learned more and more about the DBT Skill of Radical Acceptance I have begun to recognise that sometimes, it wasn't hope and its loss which hurt me most. Rather it is the fact that I would hope unrealistically, or give my hope to people who either weren't worthy of it, or capable of fulfilling it. No individual person can fill the emotional void left by childhood and adult trauma. Sometimes the skill lies in recognising when hope is not appropriate. There are circumstances, or relationships, which no matter how hard I hope it wasn't so, will never change. It took me a lifetime to realise that even Christmas couldn't change my parents and the results of their own upbringing. Accepting that and letting go of the hope that by wishing I could effect a change, has freed to me to build a relationship with my parents that no longer reopens wounds from the past - over and over.

Another area I have struggled with is the sense of injustice I feel about how vulnerable people are treated. However much I hope that the injustice of government policies related to welfare and mental health funding will change, I must accept that, however flawed the election process, a majority of MPs are not supportive of such compassionate and corporate policies to help the most vulnerable in our society. Sadly, the majority of those who voted, voted for that kind of government. There is no point in me hoping that will magically change before 2020 when the next Election is due. However, I can look forward to that year and hope that if I can share my ideas and beliefs about a just society across, join with others who share those beliefs, then there may be hope that a change can happen. For now, acceptance is the right alternative to hope.

As I have moved away from being completely overwhelmed by my emotions, I have noticed that my view of hope has become an active practice of wise mind. Hope is an emotion, I feel it in my gut. However, I need to make sure that the facts of any given situation need to confirm that gut feeling for it to be a force which drives me forward. Unfettered hope, hope that is built on a denial of the realities of the situation is a false hope and it is that which hurts. Hope grounded in substantial, realistic understanding of what is going on around me, an awareness of what I and others are capable of, has a better chance of being fulfilled. Naturally, there are still times, because no one can predict the future, when hope is disappointed, but if we can consider the prospect of disappointment ahead of time, then rather than wreaking wholesale emotional devastation as in the past, it is something that we can both survive and build on.

Saving the Starfish

There was once a little boy who loved splashing about and foraging in rock pools. For hours on end he would carefully lift rocks and stones to reveal the miracles of nature beneath. Each little pool was a mini world and he saw himself as some sort of benevolent super being 'freeing' each creature from their 'prisons' under the rocks and boulders along the shoreline. He didn't stop to think about the worlds and lives he was upending. Yet, somewhere at the back of his mind was the knowledge that the destiny of the crabs, shrimp, cockles, mussels and other creatures were entirely in his hands. Slowly he began to become more select in the creatures he chose to help. He realised that not every crab under a rock needed to be freed from their hiding place. He began to recognise the 'safe places' for them and changed his focus from changing each creature's lot in life, to making sure there were plenty of safe places in 'his' rock pools for those he wanted to protect.

One night there was an almighty storm tossing angry waves around the familiar bays of his holiday home. With great excitement and anticipation he ran down to his favourite rock pools. A scene of devastation met his eyes. Snotgreen party streamers of seaweed, with assorted pieces of human detritus, plastic bottles, flip flops, string and tins, were intertwined with clusters of discarded fish egg sacks, jellyfish and, seemingly strewn across the whole shoreline, were hundreds, upon hundreds of starfish. The boy sank to his knees and began to sob. He had no way of saving all of the starfish. He didn't even have the ability to save any of the creatures in one of his little rock pools. The raging of the storm had cleaned most of them out, stripped of all hiding places. The storm had proved to him how useless his efforts were.

As his tears flowed he started to look around him. He began to count. Slowly an idea formed. He could reach about 10 starfish immediately next to him as he kneeled in the sand. He picked one up and threw it back into the ocean. 'Saved you.' He said as he threw it. He picked another one up, 'Saved another one.' As he walked along picking up starfish one by one, he stopped looking at the hundreds he couldn't reach, or who were beyond any help, and started focusing on each one as it lay in his hand, before he returned it to the sea. He learned a good lesson. 'I may not be able to save all the starfish, but I can save as many as I am able, one at a time.'

Sometimes we have huge mountains to climb, trying to bring justice where there is none, trying to fight against governments who seem impervious to pain, compassion, or even reasoned debates. Sometimes, we battle our own demons. We have lifetimes of trauma and pain to overcome. If we focus on the whole of the mountain, we will feel very small and very helpless.

I remember taking some 13 year olds to the Lake District to learn about climbing and abseiling. Standing at the bottom of the cliff face looking up I was so overwhelmed by the task ahead, that I chickened out. I learned something as I watched the kids make their way up where I didn't dare to go. They didn't look up or down, when encouraged by the instructor they looked at their feet planted on the cliff wall and they made progress as they moved each step upwards. Even the most frightened child managed to make it to the top and back down again. Because I let my fears overwhelm me by focusing on the whole of the task ahead of me, I was beaten by the cliff face.

There are times when it is tempting to give up trying to right wrongs and seek justice in this world. I am learning that even though I can't change the world, I can try and change the world for one person. I come across needs around me every day. I cannot meet them all on my own, but I am learning to help those immediately within my reach. I love the concept of 'pay it forward'.

As the boy walked through the carpet of dead and dying starfish he was making a pathway of hope across the shoreline. Perhaps, if more of us tried to make a difference to just one person in a small way: speaking up, educating the ignorant, supporting others who share our values and beliefs, then we will be making a start on changing the world. Don't be overcome by the mountain ahead of you, just focus on the one next step you need to take to move forward. Focus on what you can do immediately around you and you can save the starfish, one at a time.

(Credit to my friend Rachel, who keeps reminding me I don't need to take over the world, just save one starfish!)

Why I'm not Making any Resolutions!

I'm not making any New Year Resolutions this year. I've decided that in the past they have not been effective for a number of reasons:

1. Human Nature. It is a truth that the 'road to hell is paved with good intentions'. Too often my intention to become a slimmer, fitter, better tempered, more cultured, creative, more altruistic version of myself has foundered within an embarassingly short period of time.

2. Too High Expectations. Unsurprisingly, when setting myself a goal of losing five stone within three months I also set myself up to fail - perhaps it's an inbuilt protection against change - after all I know what failure feels like and change is scary!

3. The Wrong Goals. Too many times in the past I have tried to set resolutions which are more about what other people think I should be aiming at. Rather than about my own happiness and contentment.

4. A tendency to want to take over the world. In the past I have tried to take responsibility for all the world's ills and seek to resolve them with my own efforts. I have learned that I cannot change the world, but I can try to change the world for one person at a time.

So, this year it will be different.

1. Every day I set myself small goals - achieving the ongoing small victories over my battles with mental illness. These include keeping to a routine. So change needs to happen in a stable framework, acknowledging each positive step forward.

2. If I am not stuck in the past and I am moving forward with my life, then change must be happening, because that is the nature of growth and maturity. Recognising that I am not stagnating means that I don't need to create momentum falsely, it is already happening as a process of choosing to live.

3. My life has meaning beyond fitness regimes and diets, which often are the focus of resolutions. My beliefs inform the direction of my life - change, long term change, requires hope. Hope is born from engaging actively with something larger than ourselves, whether that is God or being part of the wider world around us.

In 2014 I will have only one goal - to keep moving forward to wellness, taking each step forward and accepting each moment as it is.

My 'Special Button'

I have a button, it is well hidden and I can live for years without even being aware of its existence. I call it my 'Self Destruct Default' Button. It is not driven by any suicidal impulses or self harming behaviours which are part of my Borderline Personality Disorder. It is, however, just as destructive in many ways, because it springs from the same source - my inability to value myself.

It starts to pulse - red - when things are going really well. When there are no crises in my life that require all of my emotional energy. When I am, for want of a better word, in danger of becoming 'happy' in my life. I have pressed this button many times in my life - provoking the breakdown of relationships (see I told you, it's not possible to love me), loss of jobs (See I told you I am a failure) and usually, as a result, the loss of my home (see I told you I wasn't worth helping - wasted resources).

I managed to do this every five years or so and kept repeating the pattern between the ages of 18 and 42, when I finally ground to a halt and found a GP willing to put the pieces together and see the full picture. My diagnosis, although a shock at first, opened doors of understanding for me after a lifetime of feeling that I was just 'over-sensitive' and losing a grip on reality.

I find myself in danger of reverting to my 'default' having completed the core Dialectical Behaviour Therapy course and realising that I have been 'stable' for a number of months. I know it is worth getting used to enjoying life as others do, but there is a core belief that I am not worth it. This I know, is the fundamental battle I have with my past experience of life. Everything up to the present period of my life has been designed to programme me to believe that 'self destruction' is safer than taking a risk with life as it is outside my experience.

But there is hope - if my life so far has programmed my default, it can be reprogrammed to a different default - one that says, this moment is as it is. To believe that my emotions do not have to rule my life, that at their worst they build to painful crescendos, but they do subside, if I am willing to wait for one moment more.

So I am looking at creating a new button to become my default and on it is written: 'Hope'.

So...That was Then...This is Now...

I started writing this blog in 2010 - still reeling from finding out that my 'emotional issues' since childhood had a name and could be understood beyond my being 'oversensitive', 'overdramatic' and 'overstimulated' (amazing what comes out of angry confrontations!).

It has taken me three years to adjust to a diagnosis of BPD with a lovely side order of severe Clinical Depression. It took until the age of 42 and numerous periods of: instability, breakdown (of self and relationships), relocation and rebuilding to find that my life patterns had a cause and some hope of a remedy.

I am forever grateful to the CPN (still with me after all these years - possibly the longest adult relationship I've managed to maintain longer than three years) who saw through my 'apparent competence' and my 'high functionality' to see that I was screaming out for help. Patterns of Self Harm and risk of suicide associated with BPD distract some professionals from listening to the pain being expressed. I used to describe myself as being 'trapped inside my own head, screaming'!

For me no one knew that I self harmed (I was working with cases who tended to have the same patterns of self abuse and emotional stability as I was experiencing). My professionalism was a dam holding back the torrents of emotional distress tumbling around inside me. My biggest fear was losing my job, my raison d'etre, the only effective means of self validation I had at the time. So I knew that admitting that I had made detailed plans to end my life ironically, was the last thing I wanted to do. But in an assessment, begged for by my GP who fought so hard for people to look beyond the surface, for the first time someone asked me directly how far I had gone in planning to commit suicide - suddenly it was ok to let it all out and my life as I knew it came to a juddering halt...in time for people to recognise how much emotional distress I was experiencing. The mask was off and it was all there for anyone who cared to look to see.

Some of the most comforting words spoken to me around this time were - 'your response is understandable', 'it's ok to feel low' - I was allowed to struggle due to my previous experience of life. At that time suicide seemed like an answer to unbearable emotional pain, but to quote Tyrion Lannister from Game of Thrones 'Death is so very final'.

At the moment, I am attending a DBT graduate group - just like that! 14 months of DBT Skills Group and individual therapy have flown by and I recognise that I have come a long way since my juddering halt...so much learning has happened. One of the most freeing realisations has been that although I may be a product of my past, I don't have to remain as its prisoner! It is exceptionally freeing to recognise that the 'solutions' to my emotional pain, no longer have to be so final. Today, I am learning to accept each moment, with all its feelings, good or bad, while changing what can be changed in me.