It didn’t go according to plan. ‘IT’, being, reducing my meds.  The decision was made by me, MYSELF, in the presence of my psychiatrist.  He wasn’t convinced but went along with it – maybe to spare my feelings or to let me really SEE. Maybe he thought it would be funny. Let me just say, I was monumentally wrong. 

Allow me to share a recent, fairly harmless example.

Here’s what would have happened IF I had been on a proper dose of meds:

I walk into the bathroom expecting everything to be in order but the toilet is plugged. AGAIN.  How annoying. Puzzlingly, the plunger is MISSING. How inconvenient. Being lazy and thinking I can just handle it using the toilet brush, albeit less effective, it will probably pump enough water to dislodge whatever is stuck. (EEW)

I quickly grab the handle of the brush and pull it from its holding container.  I say, ‘OH SHIT’ (literally) as the container is right FULL of nasty, dirty toilet water which propels forth across the entire half bath and makes an ugly puddle on the floor.   

I still need to use the bathroom.  I squeeze my legs together, submerge the brush in the almost overflowing toilet to swish it around and rinse off the offensive crap (HA HA).  I complete the rigorous pumping action and am rewarded by the glorious flush of the tank. “Oh good, the toilet isn’t broken.”

Now, I pick up the toilet brush container, dump (Heh heh) its contents in the toilet. FLUSH.  Put the container in the FRESH toilet water and use the brush to ‘CLEAN’ it. While Container and brush chill in the toilet, I spray and wipe down the floor, the walls, the mirror, the pedestal sink, the windowsill, the window, the blinds, the picture frames, and the cat’s litter box.  “Gee, I hope I got it all.” I finish by giving the toilet a quick clean and putting the container and brush back on the floor beside the toilet.  THEN, I use the bathroom and carry on. 

How it really went down – me on reduced meds: 

I walk into the bathroom expecting everything to be in order but the toilet is plugged. AGAIN. I scream, ‘BLOODY HELL! WHO PLUGGED THE TOILET AND WALKED AWAY? WHO PLUGGED THE TOILET AND FAILED TO REPORT IT IS OUT OF ORDER?  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?” Puzzlingly, the plunger is MISSING. “O MY GOD! WHERE IN THE HOLY HELL IS THE PLUNGER?  WHO TOOK THE PLUNGER? WHY WOULD ANYONE TAKE IT? AND DIDN’T WHY DIDN’T THEY RETURN IT?  WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?”  

In a frenzied rage, I grab the handle of the brush and pull it from its holding container.  “OH SHIT!” The container is right full of nasty, dirty toilet water which propels forth across the entire half bath and makes an ugly puddle on the floor. “UUUUUGH!!! YOU BASTARDS!”  I still need to use the bathroom.  I squeeze my legs together, and hastily submerge the brush in the almost overflowing toilet. I VIOLENTLY pump it against the drain with superhuman force until it flushes. 

Now, I pick up the toilet brush container, causing spillage and swearing under my breath. I dump its contents in the toilet. FLUSH.  I angrily force the container into the FRESH toilet water and use the brush to ‘CLEAN’ it. Leaving the container and brush in the toilet, I yell, “I GUESS I HAVE TO CLEAN THE WHOLE BATHROOM TOO! WHY IS THIS ALWAYS MY JOB?  CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?  I’M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN! NEXT TIME SOMEONE PLUGS THE TOILET, IT IS STAYING EFF-ING PLUGGED UNTIL THEY FIX IT THEMSELVES!” I spray and wipe down the floor, the walls, the mirror, the pedestal sink, the windowsill, the window, the blinds, the picture frames, and the cat’s litter box.  “F***. I probably missed some. We just have to live in FILTH.”  I finish by giving the toilet a quick clean and putting the container and brush back on the floor beside the toilet.  THEN, I use the bathroom and carry on. Everytime I meet someone in the house, I stop them and list ALL the UNPLEASANT things I HAVE TO DO EVERYDAY and how I’m not the ONLY ADULT in the HOUSE who is capable of cleaning.  I continue to passive aggressively return to this subject FOREVER. 

STOP.

I often question whether taking medication is stifling or ACTUALLY helpful.  The process of weaning off, changing my mind, and then slowly increasing the meds again until I reached a state of lessened anxiety, was a SIGNIFICANT struggle.  It was worth it just to discover that my spirit stays intact.  My essence remains with or without medication.

I officially take medications to curb the symptoms of borderline personality disorder.  Personally, I think ‘Borderline Personality Disorder’ is a misnomer.  It’s more of an EMOTIONAL disorder.  Without meds, I am unable to regulate my emotions and trend toward intense, catastrophic anxiety, inflexibility, negativity, and depression.  It is really hard WORK to check myself, especially as a pastor who is, by nature,  expected to be humble, accepting, and loving.  IF a trigger IS hit, it’s a challenge to reel it in.  I’m a bit of a walking emotional time bomb. IF I feel ignored, abandoned, or disliked, I react emotionally to quell the overwhelm of anxiety.  My behaviour CHANGES to protect, numb, or distract myself from the discomfort of extreme stress.  Shielding my fragile self-image sometimes spells personal sabotage and destruction. It can be AWKWARD.

Without the meds, my whole bathroom saga felt like a personal attack on my ability to parent and keep house. As if the clogged toilet was a CALCULATED demonstration of what I have FAILED to teach my children and how terrible I am for letting the ‘yuck factor’ in cleaning get OUT OF HAND.  It triggered a subconscious cascade of unwanted thoughts and memories about EVERY failure I have perceived in my motherhood and marriage. My self-judgment spurred the loud cursing that was designed to rouse the attention of my family, name myself as the victim and BLAME everyone else to take the pressure off of my isolated position in the story.

I don’t think this is unique to BPD, but I experience splitting, which is a marked division between my ‘NORMAL SELF’ and my ‘UNHEALED SELF.’  As a result, my mood swings are unpredictable.  I have issues with identity confusion and internal conflict. Insert [Imposter Syndrome]. Depression overtakes me with a deep sense of ongoing emptiness.  It is in THESE moments that I need MORE than medication.  I need to look inward, embrace mystery, and trust GOODNESS to prevail.

Once, when I was feeling pathetically helpless, I prayed for something very specific to cheer me up.  “God,” I said, “I never REALLY ask you for anything tangible.  It would help me enormously to know you ARE listening.” Then, as if God works like some kind of magical Santa Claus, I asked, “Please, please, please let the clothing I ordered arrive TODAY.”  I’m not usually so desperate about clothes, but these were clergy garments that would refresh my wardrobe after many years of body dysmorphia and clothes that just didn’t fit right and detracted from my professionalism.  When I finished I scolded myself for being SO petty.  I went on with my day.  When I got home THE BOX was on the table.  I began to do the math – “what day did I place the order?  Has it been 6-8, or maybe 12 weeks?  Was this MY intuition or did GOD really just DO that for ME?” The crust around my soul began to crumble. (sounds Grinchy)  “What IF God just did that?”….. “Um, God, okay, thank you for showing me that you ARE real and you HEAR me.  I’m so sorry that I put you to the test…  So…hey…you’ll deliver my package when I ask – what then will you do with my REAL problems?”  

This is an experience I often return to when I’m in distress.  God cares about ME. God loves ME.  God looks out for ME, myself.  The missing toilet plunger doesn’t matter.  The mess has no enduring consequence. My family is not to blame, no one is plotting against me or abandoning me.  The toilet is JUST clogged and there IS NO plunger. It’s an inconvenience. Nothing more. The goal of treatment for emotional/personality disorders is differentiation of self – having the ability to maintain one’s true self in anxiety and in emotional situations.  My healing work is focused on changing my relationship between how I THINK and how I EXPRESS my EMOTIONS. It leads me through the storms of life to find my center calm, my connection to the ground of all being, my Christ-heart, my godspark, my soul.

I’m a work in progress.  Aren’t we ALL? Dr. Richard Schwartz’ theory of ‘Internal Family Systems,’ takes Dr. Bowen’s ‘Family Systems Theory’ which is concerned with the different interdependent roles assumed within healthy AND dysfunctional families, and APPLIES IT to an individual person and their many ‘parts’.  This resonates.  I don’t feel that I have a bunch of different personalities inside of me that fight for leadership.  But, I do feel like I have distinct PARTS. 

In IFS the ‘parts’ include EXILES, the parts of yourself that your ‘system’ works to keep hidden and out of trouble.  They carry your burdens like shame, fear, grief, anger, dependency, and loneliness. They also long to be healed and freed. MANAGERS are your parts that protect ‘the whole system’ from feelings of hurt and rejection. They maintain control by creating an illusion of safety by being super competent, and utilizing your self-critic to prevent humiliation and abandonment.  FIREFIGHTERS serve and protect ‘the system’ when triggers hit too close to home.  They react, attack, and create diversions (like addictions, eating and sleep disorders, extra work, self-harm, and dissociation), all to keep your exiles from seeing the light of day.

My favorite part is the CORE SELF.  When you can uncover this part and maintain it, it becomes the active and compassionate LEADER of all the other parts. It takes away their ‘jobs’ and replaces them with pleasant, and positive, productive roles.  It is your natural essence, that has been sheltered from damage by all the other parts. Your Core Self acts with spontaneity, and creativity. It emerges when you feel centered and truly safe and calm. Your confident core self is Playful, Curious, Adventurous, and Stable. It is your BEST SELF.  When it is uncovered, it needs NO improvement, because it’s already perfect the way it is…..the way God made you.

As a Christian, the core self, my best self, fits the concept of my soul – which I believe is beyond the limits of the physical body or the human psyche.  The soul is the essence, energy, electricity, everlasting part of you that IS accessible during this earthly walk and contains ALL the wisdom and strength you need to find peace and healing WITHIN  yourself.  I’m not talking about a cure-all.  I am talking about a state of being that is calm, knowing, and in fact, a little piece of God’s all encompassing love that has settled in you no matter what else is happening in your life.  

People are complicated.  When you are faced with dirty toilet brushes and stuff that’s stuck, BREATHE. Center yourself.  Ask all your managers and firefighters to give you some room, to step aside.  Hug your exiles and draw on your CORE – the being that God meant for you to be – be filled with THAT light.  Bathroom drama, I think most dramas, CAN be navigated with improved self-awareness and the courage to be vulnerable. We can live as we die and die as we live within our personal ‘system’ and in interconnection with and care for the ‘systems’ of OTHERS, even if they expect you to clean the toilet.