My BPD Anxiety Snapshot - A Tale of Two Minds.

I am in the grip of anxiety.

It's my own fault. The trouble with this Borderline stuff is that I can always be relied upon to come up with the biggest, most grandiose solution to a problem. And then I'll loathe myself for it. Putting my head above the parapet, in full knowledge that I will be shot between the eyes.

A local charity needs a high profile fundraiser? I'll organise a massive Christmas charity ball with a friend! I've never done one before, but how hard can it be, right? Right. Now I'm committed, and people are expecting great things. Six months later, it's all booked and on Saturday evening, we have 84 people arriving for a three course meal, disco, Casino and Silent Auction.

I knew it was coming. It started last week when I couldn't stop washing my hands. Then came the snappy mood and the skin-picking, disordered eating and avoiding going to bed. Then increasingly frequent dissociation. And now it's here - the conversation in my head. Softly at first, then increasing in volume until it is a constant cacophony. I refer to them as my Rational and Irrational Minds - one remembers my treatment and the DBT strategies learned, the other bombards me with catastrophic thinking in an attempt to lead me into the abyss. Non-stop. Locked in battle.

It goes on and on, in an endless, pitiful spiral with people laughing at me in my dress, hating the food, making fun of the auction, complaining about the music and getting bored with the casino. As the spiral gets more and more out of control one thought from my Rational Mind gets louder and louder: my Irrational Mind might be right.

And there it is. Suddenly I'm being run out of town by baying crowds with torches and pitchforks, and I may as well just disappear.

As I sink into the sofa, exhausted by the war being waged in my head, I think "wouldn't it be easier to just not bother?"

Now here comes the rage. I'm flooded with The Facts - why I'm like this and where it comes from and why the hell shouldn't I bother? I'm just as capable as anybody else and sinking into this sofa just lets Them win again. 

So tomorrow, I'll wake up and spend 10 minutes talking myself into getting out of bed. I'll get myself and my boys ready, take a beta blocker to stop my heart palpitations and leave the house. I'll saunter across the school playground with my well-pratised, vacant smile and hope that nobody can hear the screaming match going on inside my head.

And as I walk back to my car, resisting the urge to disinfect my shoes every time they touch the pavement, I hang onto the fact that soon it will be Sunday, and this whole ride can start all over again. For soon it will be Christmas.

Sarah.