Explaining Your Mental Illness to Your Date

The hardest part of dating isn't saying hello for the first time. It's not thinking up topics of conversation, choosing a restaurant, or even staying safe when you meet in person for the first time. When you have an oft- misunderstood mental illness (or two or three), the hardest part of getting to know anyone is explaining it-- and hoping they understand.

Last month I met up with a New Guy (yep, the one I had a 14 hour phone conversation with!), and everything seemed great. We had lots in common, he was fun to talk to and he laughed at all my jokes. But I was terrified that none of that would matter when he found out about my Panic Disorder and emetaphobia.

I believe in full disclosure when I start talking to someone new, whether a potential friend or date. It's less painful for both of us if the "eeeew I can't date a crazy girl!" conversation happens right at the beginning, rather than after a few dates. So when we first start talking and it feels like things might be going somewhere, I say, "I feel I should let you know that I'm dealing with [insert illnesses here]. They do [sometimes] impact my day-to-day life, but I am actively working on treatment for them and don't consider them an obstacle to having a happy relationship". Either he'll flee, or he'll be understanding. I've had some people run, of course, but multiple people have told me coming out like that takes guts, and still others have said they have an anxiety disorder (or two), too. 

So this new guy knew about my health issues in advance. I just wasn't sure what would happen when he encountered a panic attack or a borderline episode.

Our first date, like our first phone call, wasn't typical, even though it started out that way. We were going to go out for coffee, and met right near a Tim's, but decided we liked each other enough, felt safe with each other, (and wanted to spend enough time together) that going to his place made sense. So we did. And we ended up talking for hours on end, about silly things, important things, things we're passionate about. We made out. We snuggled. And at some point, I started sobbing uncontrollably. Hello, anxiety. Thanks for dropping by, borderline.

Did New Guy call me crazy? Did he kick me out? Nope. He held me close and told me everything was fine. And now we've been happily together for over a month.

Moral of the story? Don't be ashamed to disclose the fact that you're dealing with (an) illness(es) to potential new beaux. If they're too immature to deal with that, they don't deserve you. Not even close.

Over to you: How has your mental illness impacted your love life?

Image Source: Wikimedia Commons

Borderline vs Balance

Balance is the hardest thing for a person with Borderline Personality Disorder to achieve. Most of the time that's what we crave; a happy existence in the grey area. Unfortunately, BPD causes us to be precariously perched on the Black Side or the White Side at all times.

Am I ecstatically happy or dreadfully sad? Is my boyfriend/father/friend/teacher the greatest man to ever live, or the devil incarnate? Do I want to live forever, or must I kill myself this second?

It sounds melodramatic, but this is truly how we think. We can't not. Autopilot drives us from Black to White and back again. Sometimes all we can do is hold on tight.

Image: WikiMedia Commons

Success or Suicide: On 'Black-and-White' Thinking

Note: This post may be triggering due to mention of suicidal thoughts.
 
When I was 16, I believed there were only two possibilities: by 21, I'd have it all figured out, or I'd be dead.

Around that time I took a CBT class, which went through all the major psychological coping mechanisms. What I didn't know then, was that one of them-- black and white, or 'all or nothing' thinking (also known as 'splitting')-- perfectly described what I was thinking-- and was a symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder, which, at the time, I did not believe I had.

On my way to class each Wednesday, I wrestled with this thought: 'I have to try my best, because this class might be my last hope. If I fail, I'll have no more options and I'll never be able to cope with my mental illness and then I'll have to kill myself'.

No rational thought could stop this pattern. I couldn't process that there's a grey area between success and failure, between success and suicide. That's black and white thinking.

I definitely didn't want to die, and I wasn't being dramatic, either. I was just so depressed, and overwhelmed by my untreated BPD, that I couldn't see a third option.

I wish I could hug my teenage self, tell her to hold on, because there's so much life she hasn't experienced yet. Most importantly, I wish I could tell her that, for certain now, I know therapy works, and antidepressants work, and believing in yourself works.

Whatever stage you're at in fighting your illness, I want you to know this: It's possible to recover. Even if you need medication (or don't). Even if you need therapy (or don't). Even if you don't believe in yourself at first. Even if you stumble sometimes (I know I still do!).

The world is not all black and white. Accept that there's an in-between, and believe that you deserve and can achieve amazing things (including recovery). Then, you'll thrive.

I'm so tired.

I wrote this sometime last month, and since right now I'm feeling much the way I did then, I felt it would be a good time to share:

I'm in my childhood bedroom. The ceiling lights don't work anymore, the windows stick and the air is slightly musty, but the room looks much as it did during my teenage years.

Magazine clippings, snapshots of my (very few but incredibly loved) friends and artwork I've made are taped to the walls, painted a chipped bright blue.

I'm laying in bed, writing, head resting on my hand.

The room smells old and sad. At least the stench of my ex's cheap cologne no longer lingers.

I'm so tired lately-- and not just because of my chronic fatigue-- the kind of tired that's also emotional, that keeps you awake for days on end.

I have these moments when I'm so depressed, but I can't tell anyone because I'm supposed to be in recovery.

I need someone to love, someone to love me.

I hate talking, even writing about feeling like this, but the truth is, if I don't talk about my feelings (especially the ones that arise due to my BPD), how can I rightfully expect anyone else to be open and honest about theirs?

the past few days...

The past few days have been really hard. I keep alternating between two different moods, thanks to my Borderline.

1 I push everyone away, am angry or sad, don't trust anyone, feel like breaking something, or 2 I'm desperate to be held and kissed and comforted by Kamen and terrified of being alone.

Either way, I've been crying a lot. This is so hard.

Thank you, all of you who have been here for me. It really means a lot <3. I'll be back to "normal" soon!

Getting this off my chest...

I'm posting sooner than I expected to be. I need to get this off my chest. Maybe it will help you, too. Here goes:

I'm sad. I'm tired. I'm stressed about school, despite how soon it will be over. I'm nervous about being nervous about my upcoming trip.

I see my entire life stretched out before me, this vast expanse of beautiful, crisp, clean canvas waiting for me to paint all over it in all my favourite colours. That's not scary for me; it's empowering.

What is scary for me? I'm afraid of my mental illness holding me back from achieving my dreams.

I guess it's normal to fear that something that's limited you for a long time will limit you for the rest of your life. When I was Selectively Mute, I thought I would never be able to speak in public, despite how hard I was working to cope with my anxiety. Maybe this is the same sort of situation. I'm scared I'll never be happy and successful because I've spent a long time not being happy or successful.

This self-fulfilling prophecy stops here.

When I am aware of them, I will question my unhealthy thoughts, my Borderline tendencies. I know I won't catch them all the time and I know I won't always be able to control them (afterall, Borderline Personality Disorder is chronic). But trying counts for a lot. I can do this.

And whatever you're struggling with, whether it's your (or a loved one's) mental illness, a big change on your horizon or something completely different, I know you can do it, too.