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nicci42

Shattered Glass seeks repair! TW: Suicide, Sexuality

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nicci42

Hi, I'm Nicci. I have borderline personality disorder and cPTSD. A couple of psychologists have said DID, too... honestly, the label doesn't matter. 

I don't want to get into a lot of history like I am normally want to do. Suffice it to say that a bunch of effed up stuff happened when I was a kid in a less than loving family. My dad was bipolar and so was my little sister. They both succumbed to that, my mom to cancer. 

I've been avoiding dealing with their loss for a long time and did it with a great act of "I'm OK" but I feel like I am dying inside. Not nececssarily metaphorical. My mom died 23 years ago. Until then I was a relatively healthy person. Hiked, rode my bike a lot, was a brilliant software engineer. Until my mom died. I have been sick ever since. I spent a lot of time inpatient or on so much medication I barely knew who I was. Because of a change in insurance I found I could no longer get the counseling I needed and, out of desparation, went to the county mental health clinic begging for help. The clinic was run by the University of Washington, in Seattle. I ended up taking a year of DBT there. It was a life-saver, but, even during that time, it was close. I almost died in my last suicide attempt. That was in 2008. 

A couple years later I was approached by some lawyers and I had a bit of an inheritance. I wasn't exactly rich but was able to provide a better stable environment for me and also have some fun. Inheritance can come with a great cost: This was how I found not only my father but also my sister took their lives - a few years apart. I was devastated but there was fun to be had, and, that sounds very dialectical because it is. I stopped using the skills I learned. My emotions were more volatile than ever. Despite this, my estranged spouse moved on to my property. They died less than a year later, but, living in a place they had alwaya dreamed of. Love was never the issue with us, but, my "flights of fancey" became a problem. Even so, I cared for them while they were dying. That is a very emotionally draining thing to do. So I had to focus on just keeping my self together in the moment. Grief has waited, it could still wait. 

A few years later, we come to now... 

In 5 years I lost 5 people I cared a lot about. One is my partner's daughter, who is still alive but has dived so deep into her own despair nobody knows her - or feels safe around her. I lost her son, my partner's grandson who was murdered over a bag of weed. I lost my dad who was often really shitty to me and kicked me out when I ws 14. Oddly, I'm not angry because of my childhood. I would have been frustrated too. I am mad because he was Superman and he couldn't fly. I lost my sister to bipolar and meth. Nobody really knows if she died on purpose or was trying to blunt her own pain. There was no note, and I lost my spouse. I haven't really grieved any of this. Nor the loss of my health, which on paper looks like it's getting better but the reality is I am in more physical pain and have almost no energy for anything. 

Last night I was watching a show on TV. I started thinking, "What will we do if Fiona loses the house?" I was very worried about where we would live. Having spent time homeless and couch surfing this would be of great concern, except, Fiona is on a television show. There was no danger. There was a ton of anxiety, though, and fear. My ability to determine reality had stopped working, even if for a short time, this was a red flag.

I decided to do a diary card, just to sort of sort my thoughts and emotions. I've been in tears ever since. Just way more than I ever do. I started looking at recent behavior. If you were close you'd probably not notice, but, strangers would because of the shame I had in behavior I knew was no good for me but did it anyway. That's the problem in life, for me. I do know what's bad for me, but, I do it anyway. I had engaged in what can be best described as virtual hypersexuality. So there's a lot of pics out there on the internet that I wish weren't there. You'd be surprised how much guys are interested in a middle aged transwoman. I didn't even make money at it. I have tried to clean up what I can but the stuff is out there. Trying to let go of that shame, deal with my grief sadness and anger that I have towards the people who have died. 

And as effed up as all that sounds, that's been in my adult life since my 40s. I have unresolved stuff from the 1960s that, well, has been the trigger of a lot of problems. Dissociation, volatility, never had a serious remotely loving relationship until I was almost 30. I used to wander all over the country because I never felt at peace anywhere! 

I felt, during the time I did DBT, a lot of it was just going through the motions. Maybe it was... I feel like, despite decades in and out of treatment, I'm just the same ol Nicci. A hot mess trainwreck in slow motion! 

It needs to stop because I think it's killing me. A lot of my medical stuff is rooted in autoimmune problems - my body is trying to kill me. 

I don't want to die and I don't want to live in physical and psychological pain. I need to deal with this stuff! I have a therapist and she is very helpful sometimes in ways I don't want her to be (sign of a good therapist!) but peer support seems like a good idea. Share our experiences so the things others do that work for them, can work for others. 

So that's me. In a clamshell. 
 

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