“STOP THAT! YOU’RE ACTING CRAZY!” aka: shit that makes me livid

So I was looking around the internet for stuff on emotional maturity, and found some guys paper or whatever it is! I skim it, find it so-so, and then way down the pages, the last thing it says is:

“Two prominent psychiatrists, Glasser and Harrington, did a study of patients in a mental hospital, and came up with the following opinion:

‘There is no such thing as mental illness. These are people who have mastered the art of irresponsibility. They pass the buck to other people. There is a moment when they have an opportunity to choose their course of behavior. Some people are childlike, never having grown up. They must be taught to assume responsibility for their own behavior. When they start a tantrum, command them STOP THAT! YOU’RE ACTING CRAZY!’

Isn’t that just a sound slap in the face of anyone who’s struggling, day for fucking day, to live with the mess their life is?! Where did those psychiatrists get their diplomas? Won it at the lottery?

It’s not like I don’t agree with the statement that there are people who’re childlike and function on the emotional level a child would. I’m probably one of them. But it’s not like that’s a decision because I’m an irresponsible dumbfuck who figures why take the hard way when I can just act crazy! Gosh, I feel like this is among the most disrespectful things I’ve ever heard drs say! Like “Stop that! You’re acting crazy!” is gonna make an iota of a difference. The paper claims 70 % of the patients treated by them were able to live happily ever after once they were done being treated, but somehow I doubt it. They probably claimed to be healed to finally escape the nutjob shrinks. I sure would have!

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Self-soothing skills and Borderline Personality Disorder

Still thinking about the social maturity and emotional maturity issues. Still talking about it with my mom, too, because she helps me keep my thoughts together and knows stuff. One thing she has been saying for a long time is that one key ability is for me to learn to self-soothe.

What is self-soothing?

I understand it to be the ability to calm myself down, emotionally, when I get upset. Not by going emotionally numb or by dissociating and not by using some unhealthy coping strategy like self-harm or drugs or distraction. Proper soothing myself, calming down, so that I don’t go off like a contact mine if anyone, myself included, makes only one more wrong move.

Mom says it’s an ability people usually learn when they are still young. Like, as babies, when they are upset and cry, someone comes, attends to them, gives them what they need and they calm down. Their brains produce “upset and stress chemicals” (forgot their names), but those don’t hang around for long, because soon some caregiver will do things that cause the baby’s brain to release soothing chemicals that neutralize the stress ones. The baby is fine again.

Then, by watching how the caregiver does that, and by experiencing that it does work over and over and over and over again, the baby, as it gets older and becomes a child, learns how to do it herself. And also learns to withstand a certain stress, because it knows from experience it will go away soon enough.

Kids like me, whose parents can’t be bothered, and even added a shitload of stress instead of making it go away, aren’t as lucky. If my brain gets stressed, it’s stressed for good. And it doesn’t take much to get really stressed either. Sure, I can turn to artificial soothers, like alcohol or cutting, or I can dissociate and just disconnect from my stressed brain if shit gets bad, but I have a hard time finding ways to release those soothing chemicals that make me okay again.

My mom can do it. She can usually soothe me. I watch how she does it – by being there, by comforting me physically with hugs, by taking me seriously even when I’m being unreasonable and by talking with me until I feel calmer again, but also by taking no crap. In a good way. But even when I know what she does, and that it works, I have trouble doing it by myself. Although I’ve gotten a bit better. I used to immediately act upon my feelings, and I don’t do that so much anymore. Like with the cereal mess this morning, all I wanted to do was destroy something, like throw my mp3 player on the floor and step on it (yes, pretty darn clever, I know), but I didn’t. So I guess I have gotten better at tolerating a stressed brain. I have also learned some small things I can do to calm down a bit.

Healthy stuff that I’ve learned, which helps soothe me:

  • crying – I used to never cry much, but it helps and now I cry a lot, over anything, and it probably helps doubly, because it also alerts others that something is wrong with me
  • talking – well, or ranting, more like. I used to bottle everything up, so that’s a big improvement
  • music – I learned to play the guitar and I sing and I find it helps to express my feelings with music, like by playing and singing angry stuff when I’m angry or sad stuff when I’m sad, etc.
  • seeking comfort from someone healthy – as opposed to going for a mindless fuck, lol
  • awareness and thinking – go figure! since I know more about the mechanisms of these things, I have an easier time pausing to actually think before I act on impulse. At least sometimes.

Well, and there’s one last thing, which I am really embarrassed to admit to. In my family everyone knows it and it’s no big deal, but people in general don’t really understand. Ah well, but as I recently learned how vulnerability is supposedly doing so much good, what the heck, I’ll say it: I use a pacifier. Like the same kind babies do. Only mine are way cooler, because I picked cool-looking ones and am not stuck with whatever is popped in my mouth, like a baby would be! Anyway, I don’t know why, but they work. They’re comforting. They feel kind of innocent and pure and like a good part of childhood that I never had. And for some reason they feel like I’m contained and don’t fall apart so much when I have a pacifier in my mouth. I don’t know if that is because they give me something to focus on, or for another reason, but it helps. Guess they’re called pacifiers for a reason.

Otherwise I’m normal, lol! As normal as I get, anyway. And I figure it’s healthier than smoking. 😉 (Gee, and now please, vulnerability thing, work out.)

Anyway, the point is, I really hope whatever I do helps my brain to get used to some of the good, soothing, positive chemicals hanging around. Not of the artificial happy pill kind, my body’s very own chemicals. For stability. I hope I get better at it, too. The little good chemical bastards are probably not used to being called into action so much, but I sure hope they get more used to it soon!

And I hope everyone who’s struggling finds good ways to soothe themselves. And can find someone healthy who can help with it. I believe it makes a real difference.

Insignificance, Omni-Importance and Seriously, I’m Nuts

It’s one of those really crap days today. One where it’s not even nine in the morning and already I feel like everyone would be better off without me. Not in the suicidal way, but just in the hopeless “gotta accept I’ve always been and will always be scum” way. No drama about it.

On those days I feel utterly insignificant and unimportant, like I can’t do anything – not even the littlest thing – right, like I don’t mean anything to anyone. One of those days where I realize that no matter how hard I struggled, no matter how much I thought I achieved, it’s still not even close to being good enough for anything. That I don’t deserve being good enough for anything either. That I’m just too insignificant for anything.

And you know what’s so odd about that? At the same time, I feel that everything happens because of me. That mom allowed my favorite cereal to run out because she really hates me and thinks I deserve not to get my cereal this morning. That she did it on purpose because of me. To get back at me for something without having to own up to it, so she can still play the good mom while she gloats at how it ruins my day.

Isn’t that weird? On the one hand I feel too insignificant for anything, while at the same time my feelings are convinced that something that my rational mind knows is coincidental in reality is not coincidental at all, but happens because of me, like I’m the center of the universe or something. You’d think one would exclude the other, but no. I’m such a nutjob.

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