Lying as a way of avoiding distress.

Masking the truth

This is a topic I find quite painful to discuss. It brings up a lot of shame, leaving me feeling as if I tumbled naked out of a warm bed into a cold room and there was no time to cover up before a crowd arrives to view my embarrassment. Yet, I feel it's important to talk about this. After doing a good deal of reading on shame recently, I see how confronting it head on seems to be the only way to dissipate it fully. 

I must have been about four years old, when my nursery school teacher turned to my mother with a furrowed brow, a concerned tone and said something along the lines of ... "Some children lie, maybe to get out of trouble or to play 'make believe'.... that's harmless and can be corrected as the child grows older, learning it's not nice to be dishonest. But your little one's fibs are troubling. She truly believes her made up fantasies are real. I don't think she sees the difference between reality and fantasy."

When I was in second class in primary school (8 years old) I told my teacher and friends at the time that my Mum was expecting another baby with my Dad. My parents had been separated since I was four, it was a messy break-up, with lots of anger, manipulation and public arguments.  So you can imagine my Mother''s surprise when she came to pick me up and the other Mum's were congratulating her on her pregnancy and recent rekindling of her marriage. Looking back now, I think I did it to try and solve the problem. If I told enough people I had a happy family, then maybe it would come true. I remember fully believing what I was saying was real. This particular lie had a horrible outcome, it was of course found out and I was humiliated by having to publicly apologise and recant the lie to all my classmates. It not only filled my heart with shame, but compounded the reality of my distress of living within a fragmented family.

Another example is a bit more recent. I don't tend to tell people I had to leave my university course because of illness, I mince the truth, I brush it off, say I did finish and quickly change the topic. There are sooo many other examples, but I don't feel able to disclose them just yet. but I can allow you a glimpse at some conclusions I have come to about my lies.

I lied to avoid the distress and the chaos in my life. However, the truth can and does emerge at times which leads to more chaos in an attempt to avoid the past and the destruction that always follows. I can understand why so many family members and friends started to distance themselves from the me. This then started the cycle of avoidance and low esteem. The feeling of abandonment and the lies. No one likes to admit to making mistakes or "wrong calls".

It was about control with me. When my life was so out of control, I could have a little through lying. Sometimes it was to avoid conflict. I couldn't stand anyone being mad at me. I often find myself lying simply because I can't stand one more moment of my real life. Sometimes the lies are of how I wished things were or happened instead of what the real situation is.

When I am really distressed I can't tell the difference between lying and telling the truth because I say what I think people want to hear. I don't tell whoppers as I am too terrified of being rejected if I am found out - but I fudge, exaggerate, deny things and change my facts all the time. I only just discovered this as I have been lying to myself for so long too about this! It's really hard to realize and admit that lying comes so naturally to me that I don't even notice I'm doing it. I would characterise it against the DSM criterion 'frantic attempts to avoid real or imagined abandonment' - I would say my pathological lying is part of my ongoing attempt through frantic 'relationship management' to make others happy and therefore unlikely to reject me.

People with BPD often experience deep and entrenched shame; lying may be one way to conceal mistakes or weaknesses that increase shameful feelings. People with BPD are often also very sensitive to rejection, so one function of lying could be to “cover up” mistakes, so that others will not reject them.

I think I lie lie as a means of protecting myself from rejection or a survival technique, and it did seem that a good deal of my lying was some kind of defence mechanism to avoid any intense feelings of failure and self-loathing.

Given that a BPD hallmark is interpersonal relationships that alternate between idealization and devaluation, the person with BPD may distort facts aimed at the person with whom they desire a personal relationship. … In the moment, their desired objective, whatever that may be, takes such precedence over speaking the truth or behaving honestly that the potential consequences of their conduct are reduced to shadowy details.”

Sometimes we may judge ourselves harshly and expect others to do the same. Lying serves to deflect shame when something might make us look bad, thereby maintaining whatever self-esteem we have on a temporary basis. … We believe that anything ‘bad’ would make others reject them. … Lies may mask real feelings and put up an impressive façade. Lies may help make sense of why things happen to us in our mixed-up identity.

In other words, some of us with BPD lie to avoid abandonment or to avoid self-hatred.

What are your experiences with lying and the presumption of lying?

The Raging River of Emotion

My intricate network of defective nerves carrying the equally faulty transmitters must have decided to jolt its self back into action today. I sat for a while in the chilly spring sunshine before my weekly ‘me-time’. It really is such a delight to have a whole hour where I can simply talk about me, and I know that my therapist will give me her full, exclusive attention. That sounds conceited, I know, but I don’t care. I have spent too long neglecting my own turbulent mind.  I thought about how privileged I really am while I sat on an ugly and uncomfortable plastic bench outside the treatment centre. ‘I have someone who gives me time to talk and helps me to become a better person; I have a confidant, a sounding board.’ Then it struck me; ‘I have never given myself so freely and truthfully to anyone before and I have never felt such empathy from another human being in my life.’ It feels peculiar, both excellent and shocking at the same time, for I feel extraordinarily exposed and vulnerable having another person on this earth know my secrets, yet relieved that I don’t have to bear the weight of them alone anymore.

We have an idiosyncratic relationship, in so far as I would never choose to disclose such prized and feared confidences to this woman if I knew her casually. To be honest I don’t know if before DBT I would have been able to tolerate her mannerisms. She is quirky and a bit disorganized. Actually she reminds me of my mother; extremely caring yet frustratingly scatty. I got the feeling that I also annoyed her (but of course that could be BPD thinking!). She seemed to resent how little progress I was making despite how well read up I was on the DBT material.

Before we had even met last summer, I had read Marsha’s Training Manual, and shimmed her major body of work: Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder. 1993. I am an intelligent woman when I want to be, and I like to be primed and set to tackle a problem when I feel able. I am always able to read. So for the year between getting my diagnosis and accessing the right treatment to treat it, I read everything I could get my arduous little eyes on. I spent hours scouring the internet for reliable sources of information and weaving together the best comprehension I could grasp outside of a Clinical Psychology Doctorate. Luckily I still had my University student library admittance which afforded me full access online to both the British and American Medical Journals. I also had a good grounding in mental health from my years studying Occupational Therapy.

Now all that stood before me was to somehow turn my culvert of knowledge into tangible skills. And annoyingly, I couldn’t do it alone. She was the bridge I needed (but didn’t want to have to rely on) to pass over the violent river safely. Battling the raging currents of emotion alone was not working anymore, but I couldn’t see that. I fought for weeks not only against my emotions, but against this woman who said she knew a better way across and wanted to help me get there. I didn’t believe her. She couldn’t understand my internal conflict, no-one could.

At first I thought she came across patronizing, one of the many things which annoy me about her. Yet, as the weeks wore on, I realized she was merely reciting little Marsha-isims. “How can you create a life worth living, if you are not willing to participate in the therapy?” And every time I would be self critical or chastise myself for my transgressions, she would pipe up and bluntly cut across me; “That’s a judgment!!!” So for a while I stopped talking, I stopped telling her anything and I continued down my white watered river of destruction!

Now that I am a few months down the watercourse, the rapids are less frequent and some tributaries of support have joined my journey towards the sea of recovery. The emotions are still there as is the water in the river, but I have more energy to swim back and survey the journey as the intensity of the emotions have subsided and the volume of support has grown.

Even though we still don’t always see eye to eye, I am now at peace with my therapist and the service as a whole. I can see how far I have come, and how far I still have to go, but like the river, it only really flows in one direction… towards the sea. I guess my route has simply taken a small meander along that path. 

Emotional reactions in BPD

What are the hard and fast rules of dealing with emotional turmoil? Please. Please! Someone give me the magic cure-all, the answer, or at least a hint. It’s defeating having to pull myself out of the horned brambles every time I crash down where others merely trip, stumble and get on with their day.

I have come across a greatly validating Blog of late written by a very talented and truly compassionate therapist; Karyn Hall. She is the founder of the Dialectical Behavior Therapy Center in Houston and writes for Psych Central Blogs. Her Blog, The Emotionally Sensitive Person is a wonderfully corroborate part of the web for anyone suffering with intense emotions. While reading a recent post of hers I realized that I live in a world filled with heightened emotional responses to everyday life and as of yet I am totally at their peril. I am afraid of my emotions.

This is what I find hardest about my disorder. Everything affects me to extremes, and the extremes are where my ‘crazy’ comes out. Yes, I am that girl who falls hard and fast for the boy who is nice to her just once, the girl who takes the contrastive criticism to heart, the one who fails to see the room for improvement and thinks she has failed completely when she doesn’t achieve a perfect score on a test, she lets her sadness pour over the good things in life.

My heart breaks when I see a homeless person and I say a little prayer that their luck will turn around someday and they won’t have to live in the cold anymore. My eyes fill with tears at the pictures of sick children in third world countries. I am rattled with guilt that I am on social welfare when there are others out there who have not had such a fortunate life as me. I am ashamed that there are cancer patients dying, not out of choice, who would give anything for just one more year of life, while I spend an unhealthy amount of time planning and researching my own suicide. I am guilty as hell about the loss of my twin babies during pregnancy due to my illness, while other women would give their left arm for the opportunity I had and let slip away because of my eating disorder.

I got upset today; I had to gulp back big overwhelming silent sobs because of the guilt I felt as I walked past a shivering homeless man on the way to Starbucks. It put my problems in perspective; at least I have a warm bed at night, and the ability to provide for myself a safe environment in which to live.

Prozac Mind

Oh wow, what an odd week this has been. Trepidation and deregulation have burdened my mind with troublesome thoughts, causing me to suspend life and live apprehensively, awaiting some unforeseen dreadful event. The sensation lies deep in my thoracic cavity, somewhere between my heart and soul, like a boil ready to burst and spread its nasty disease to all unlucky enough to be nearby. 

My family are worried, heck my WISE MIND is worried too, but at both ends of the pole, the two destructive EMOTION/RATIONAL MINDS are at war. Devoid of emotion my RATIONALITY states that “all is lost, there is no hope, no-one wants you around, and no-one even likes, let alone loves your fat ass!” With that spurring it on, my EMOTIONS are loaded to attack and pounce on an opportunity to destroy myself with all the vigor and drive needed to succeed. So what’s stopping me? 

My exhaustion is. I have barely made it out of bed all week, too afraid to even go to the kitchen or bathroom for fear that something will happen, afraid of others and ashamed that they might see me this way. Surface to say, food is not high on my agenda. I haven’t eaten a real meal for days, and I am scared at the all too familiar glory I feel from my hunger pains. “Success!” whispers my ED in a snaky slighter of a voice! “Keep it up and soon you won’t feel anything except thinness and happiness!”

As long as I can stop myself from binging I think I will be ok, just until I see my Consultant on Monday and therapist then too. Just have to keep myself safe and out of the kitchen, away from temptation. Restricting is less destructive for me than binging and purging.

The dose of Prozac (20mg) makes me nauseas anyway so eating is not all that appealing to me right now, Add the intense anxiety I feel and a weak stomach is an understatement. Food repulses me at the moment. Long may it last!

Emotional Stability at Christmas

Christmas is a stressful time. Even those without a mental health problem find the holidays difficult to get through, so it goes with out saying that, when an eating disorder is thrown into the mix too, there are bound to be problems.

For me and many others, there is a sadness, grief and loneliness behind my Christmas cheer. My disordered family is thrown together and the intensity nearly always bubbles over into arguments and squabbles. I am deeply ashamed to admit that there is still a stain on my family home's sitting room wall, where I threw a glass of wine at my sister one Christmas, missed and instead imprinted a cherry red mark on the cream wall as a memento of my rage!  

Late nights, rich food, extra alcohol, traffic and crowds, shopping and finances, cooking and cleaning and all the other tasks of Christmas, all make this time of year a protracted emotional time.

There ARE a few things which DBT offers us for a successful way to ride the holiday wave. I personally am concentrating on  COPE AHEAD. The more I plan for and organize the less likely that something unformulated will shock me into an emotional backlash. All my clothes are washed and outfits put together. I have made plans for friends to ring me on Christmas eve, Day and Stephen's day as supports and handy excuses from the dinner table. 

I am putting together a wellness toolbox to bring with me as part of SELF SOOTHE. This box is a little like what you might bring to keep a child entertained on a long car journey. I have knitting, coloring pencils and paper, magazines and books. I also have my DBT notes and MINDFULNESS exercises. I have 6 reminders on my phone which simply say 'Check-In'. these are to remind me to recognize my anxiety and take regular MINDFUL breaks throughout the day. I find things always seem less overwhelming after a few deep breaths.

I will also be practicing RADICAL ACCEPTANCE. I need to have realistic expectations. My family will not suddenly change into the perfect Brady bunch overnight. And if I can ACCEPT that my family are not perfect I think I have more of a chance of dealing with the potential holiday fallout.

I plan on respecting my values. I do not want to compromise my recovery 'just because' its Christmas. I am going to eat intuitively. So if I am hungry and dinner is not ready yet... well sorry, but I will eat anyway! 

Christmas is supposed to be a happy period and therefore a perfect5 opportunity to make new better memories for future years, so ACCUMULATE POSITIVE EXPERIENCE is another skill. I am going to spend time at the end of the day to reflect on what things went well and add them to my positivity book.

Are there any other tips you guys have?

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE xxx

Morning Contemplations

MMmmm Coffee...

As I sit here with my cup of steaming hot coffee and stare out my little window at the trees, I find myself wondering the question which, at some stage, I think everyone will ask themselves, 'What is my purpose in life?' It is by no means the first time I've asked myself this remarkable question.

I say remarkable because to me, it has stirred up a multitude of diverse and utterly different emotions each time I ponder it. At times when my mind has been tainted by the black thoughts which come with depression, it has conjured up feelings of utter hopelessness and despair. But today, as my anxiety reaches new, unreached heights, it fills me with fear. As in order to have a purpose in life, one must partake in life. So this time, it’s not the thought of the vague, bleak future which fills me with distain; it’s the fact that I must overcome my social anxiety. 

This is the temperament of emotionally unstable personality disorder which many fail to understand. The way we feel and therefore live our lives are imperative to the emotions we battle with. Our minds are never mute or calm, yet always churning with the unfiltered thoughts of self hate, perfectionism or fear of failure. I have never experienced that magical moment of trust of certainty. I have never had the moment where I feel comfortable dropping my mask and letting the world know the real me. But as I sit here clutching my empty cup, I realize, this is all I can do for now. I am the best I can be right now, because although my emotions control my life, they don’t control who I am. I am Andy, and that is all I need to be.

Live life and enjoy today. xxx

Mindfulness In Action

'Serenity' 

Remember when you were a kid, and you got a new toy for Christmas or a birthday, and the whole world of time stopped while you played and became totally engrossed in the process of discovering how it worked and what you could do with it? Well, after my not-so-successful attempt to PARTICIPATE in a mindful eating exercise earlier today, I remembered how I used to get so involved in arts and crafts that time would slip away before I knew it. 

Until recently my ability to concentrate on a hobby or on anything much was zero-to-none. And while I was acutely unwell I simply just did not see the point in trying. But I slowly built up my tolerance and frustration since those lonely fives months in hospital and began to partake in activities which tested my concentration. Most notably reading and writing, but art is also one of them. 

I dislike doing things I am not very good at, and oftentimes I will not do something at all if it will only turn out mediocre. My judgments of myself get in the way. Therefore I was surprised to find out this evening, that I really enjoyed drawing this picture, so-much-so that I found myself lost in time for a little while. I was PARTICIPATING. I was so fully engaged in 'the flow' of drawing, that 20mins were happily spent mindfully attending to each stoke of the pencil on the smooth paper. I had to make a choice as to which color to use and where to put a mark on the page. 

For 20 mins I wasn't annoyed by unpleasant thoughts. Of worries about the future, or flashbacks from less happy times. I wasn't afraid of the food slowly digesting in my stomach or planning ways to rid my body of the calories. I was simply present in the moment, participating and acutely aware of how I was doing it.

'Participation' Is Torture

This week we have been set the goal of in incorporating the 'What' Skill (from the Mindfulness module) PARTICIPATION into our everyday lives. Thing is, with every good intention of being a diligent member of DBT group therapy, I made a plan. But annoyingly, I keep forgetting to fully participate in a task in order to be mindful to my experiences. 

"I used to think mindfulness is some form of passive observation… it is NOT passive.  In fact, mindfulness requires you to be both the participant and the observer simultaneously.  In this way, you are the observer of your experience at the same time as you are the experience itself.  As thoughts, feelings, and sensations naturally arise, they arise with the same vessel that observes them.Mindfulness is not a denial of your experience and a retreat into nothing but detached observation.  It is a type of open observation that is experiencing that which it is observing." Laura Schenck MA

Some skills from DBT are like little treats for the soul, while others are more akin to TORTURE! This is one of them. When you are fully awake to an experience you have actively spent a good proportion of your life trying to avoid, it is not a nice experience to then have to be aware of all the unpleasantness.

Does that make sense? I can't seem to explain what I mean in the way I want to. For example, a way I have tried to incorporate participation into my life this week, is to fully engage in eating. I really tried hard to experience every morsel of food. To taste the differences between sweet, bitter and salt. I noticed the variances in temperature and texture. Then I switched from external stimuli to the internal. To my thoughts, judgments and emotions.

Here is where the problem with this skill arose for me. No matter how hard I concentrated on noticing my thoughts, there was a strong resistance to participate in the task any longer. It was too hard to observe, then describe, then participate with eating when my head was screaming floods of guilt. 'Fat cow' 'You have no self control' 'You will be alone forever' 'This is what you deserve, fatness and unhappiness' .... 

This skill needs practice I think. And its not what I want to do. Its hard and annoying, but I guess if I was to pull from another skill, and weighed up the pros and cons, is it harder to live with an eating disorder or to just practice this skill?