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!)

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger - Really?

It's one of those throw away comments that those wanting to instil 'backbone' in their audience utter from time to time - 'Remember, Chaps, What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger... onwards and upwards.... play up, play up and play the game...' You get the general idea.

However, there is a ring of truth to it, which means that I am not able to just dismiss the philosophy behind it, perhaps it depends on who is the mouthpiece at any given time. If it is the glib response from someone wanting to stop you talking about your pain, then it becomes an empty cliche. However if it is the considered comment of someone who has truly survived the worst in life, then maybe it's worth another look.

One thing I have learned about living with BPD is that those who suffer the depths and heights of emotional sensitivity are exceptionally strong characters - and how! Try sitting in on a DBT group skills session and even the apparently quietest member of the group will have a core of steel. Why? Simply because most have survived what onlookers might consider the unsurvivable. My biggest problem before I started DBT was that most of the ways I had used to get through were not helpful and at times were positively self defeating. Sure, I did survive and heck I know I was stronger, ask anyone who encountered me in full temper at that time, but contentment? Happiness? Stability? They were alien to me.

Marsha Linehan (the creator of DBT) has described the level of emotional pain suffered by those with BPD as being equivalent to third degree burns. There is a resonance to that description as I know that the emotional distress I have felt at times has been like someone breaking open my chest and exposing my heart to the most searing, biting fire imaginable. The pain felt physical and so I tried to replace one physical pain with another, through self harming behaviour. The problem being, I had got to the age of 42 and, yes I had survived what hadn't killed me and, yes, in some ways I was much stronger, but I was emotionally numb, unable to sustain deep relationships, feeling isolated and trapped in a cycle of surviving pain through unhelpful behaviour, feeling guilty about it, then starting again the climb to the top of the emotional crescendo before repeating the pattern. It was, frankly exhausting, just living.

One of the most amazing things I heard when I started DBT was that my problem behaviours were 'understandable'. I had taken so much time hiding them, because I was so ashamed and felt, rightly, that very few people would be non-judgemental about my behaviour - primarily because on the surface I was 'successful', holding down a job, owning my own home, articulate and popular. I was also in my 40s - not how most people picture self harmers.

However, for me to make sense of this level of acceptance I had to first accept that I had suffered sustained trauma throughout my childhood, something that I had avoided doing for fear of being overwhelmed by that truth. Again, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Slowly, it began to dawn on me, that I had walked out of the prison cell of my past but I hadn't let myself believe that I had been released. Slowly, with help and support from the DBT skills group I began to realise that not only did I have the strength of the survivor, but I could actually use the tools given to me by DBT, to finally cut the chains hanging off my mind and stop my thoughts and feelings from dragging me back to that cell. One turning point in my recovery was in realising that rather than freeing me, my previous coping skills had kept me trapped in the prison of my past.

I am now committed to making the most of the present, as it is. Some days I feel sad and that's ok - nobody can be 100% happy all the time. Now the inner strength which helped me survive is helping me to rebuild my life from the ground up. I am learning that my feelings do come and go on their own, that no matter how searing the heat of the emotions, they have not killed me... yet. Although I will admit that there are still times when my anxiety is that if I let the full force of the emotions come unchecked, they will overwhelm me. But with the support of others who are on the same journey and my DBT therapist, I am able to find the right DBT skill to help me get to the other side of the emotional wave and acknowledge that, yep it didn't kill me and, guess what? It has made me stronger!