Hanging By a Thread

I continue to be a ticking time bomb.

I’m officially signed up for another week of being in this intensive outpatient program. As Dr. P says, I’m “just getting attached” to the program and could use another week to get my feet fully on the ground.

My feet aren’t even halfway on the ground.

The question of needing a higher level of care continues to come up from all angles. My parents wonder if it’s necessary, Tom wonders, Dr. P wonders, the staff wonders. I suppose I wonder, too.

I’m trying to stay out of the hospital. It doesn’t feel good to say I’ve been hospitalized 3 times in the last 5 months, and I don’t really want to add another to the list. I have to wonder if the hospitalizations are hurting me more than they’re helping. I know the intent is to keep me safe, but am I just chronically suicidal and beyond that? Any amount of research into hospitalizing those with BPD says that it shouldn’t be done under almost any circumstance, and if it is done, it should be no longer than a 24 – 48 hour stay. According to Marsha Lineman, hospitalizing a borderline reinforces the suicidal “behavior.” I’m unsure how that’s the case, and my last stay on 3W proved to be ridiculously helpful in stabilizing me, so I’m not sure I’m in 100% agreement. Still, I don’t want to be that borderline that is in and out of the hospital for extended periods of time.

Dr. P originally thought that this was more of bipolar issue than a borderline one, which is why I think the hospitalizations were looked at differently. I’m under the impression that he thinks my current issues are more in the borderline territory, which isn’t something I’m exactly proud of. In fact, it really fucking sucks. I thought most of that was behind me. Is this a full-blown relapse? Or could it possibly still be a chemical issue and maybe not my fault?

The other reason for staying out of the hospital, at least for this weekend, is because Ella’s first birthday is on Saturday. It’s incredibly hard for me to come to terms with the fact that her entire first year is behind us. I feel like I missed the majority of it, and in a sense her birthday just reminds me of the time that I will never get back with her. I didn’t get to enjoy many of her “firsts”, wasn’t around to watch her grow, or was too stuck in my head to notice the little joys of each day. I failed her as a mom, and now her first year is coming to a close and I mourn the loss of those precious moments.

I have to at least be there for her birthday. I will never forgive myself if I’m locked on a psych ward while my little girl celebrates her first year of life. I’m trying to navigate these choppy waters so I can make it home safely and be the mom I’m supposed to be. It’s honestly a daunting task, though. I’m barely hanging on. How pathetic.

I’m making the 3.5 hour trek home after the program today. I’ll hopefully be home by 7:30 – just in time to snuggle my boys and tuck them into bed for the night. I was excused from the program tomorrow so I can try to get things in order for Ella’s party on Saturday, but I’m struggling to gather the motivation to do what needs to be done. Luckily my mom has offered to help, so maybe with her urging, I can get the house looking decent and pull off a party that Ella deserves. I strongly regret planning a large party for her, but there’s no turning back now.

I’m so so exhausted from this battle.