–If anyone even suggest the full body scan that they seem to always randomly choose me for, a simple glare should work.  If not, offer to reveal my enormous belly in front of the entire airport and yell “Search This!”

–Take the aisle seat on all flights from people after threatening them by trying to squeeze past them to get to the bathroom.

–Pace on the plane, ask for extra snacks.

–Stop in every bathroom at the airport on the way to the next flight.

–In Nashville find benches, public restrooms, and shop as though I’m a normal size 10.

–At the 3 days of 10 hour trainings ask for a recliner, take short naps, eat constantly, have other people pick things up off the floor, claim being very emotional to get out of doing EMDR, accept all offers of help.

–Pretend to have labor pains often to scare the friend I’m going with.

–Take pictures of baby in Nashville so that his whole life I can tell him how much we used to travel before he was born.

–Text Nick once in a while to tell him I’m fine.

–Stay away from gassy provoking foods so as to not scare friend at night.

–Keep involuntary belching to a minimum.

–Take a poll of baby names to get a more world view.

I’ve met true Borderlines whose symptoms become very apparent in their relationship with me and their inability to cooperate with the simplest of boundaries.

And I’ve also met many abused women who have been diagnosed as Borderline because in their fight for survival they seem to portray many of the criteria for the disorder by people who don’t understand that this is their way of staying alive, of fighting back, and of finding a way out.

The consequences of a Borderline diagnosis may sometimes be very damaging:  Doubt on the part of professionals as to the truthfulness of their story, used as a weapon by batterer, threat of losing children in court, and a lowered self-esteem which is already damaged by the battering.

I will look at the criteria for BPD and try to explain why these symptoms appear in a battered woman and why they do not necessarily mean that this diagnosis is correct:

1.  Frantic efforts to avoid real or perceived abandonment.

If it takes a woman an average of seven attempts to actually leave a batterer this pattern appears to fit the criteria. The problem is that unless she has a really good plan she may have to attempt several time and come back when threatened in order to learn what tactics he will use and to come up with ways to keeps herself safe.  Like smoking, it takes practice to get it right and the threats may be quite real.  Unless she has a habit of this behavior in other relationships, even non-abusive ones, this doesn’t fit a persistent life-long pattern and is therefore not a personality disorder.

2.  A pattern of unstable and intense relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.

The pattern within an abusive relationship may be one of  what looks like idealization in order to keep the threat of harm to herself, children, or pets to a minimum by appearing to worship him and then devaluation when she tells her story to get support from resources.  Then she may return to him when she realizes how trapped she is and appear to idealize him again.  She pretends in order to stay safe and while she has some hope that he might change, she is watching the cycle of violence and waiting for her next opportunity.  A personality disorder, on the other hand, means that she does this with almost or all of her relationships, not just this one.  Even a relationship with a therapist.  

3.  Identity disturbance: markedly and persistent unstable self-image or sense of self.

This can be caused by battering.  Think of this as being a prisoner-of-war and forgetting who you are.  A personality disorder must be a lifelong pattern, not just a result of being battered or a period of transition in life.

4.  Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging.

What do prisoners-of-war do?  They take control of the small things they can control.  Battered women may drink to self-medicate.  They may reach out to other men for comfort.  Being trapped is not an easy place to be and after finding freedom it may take a while to adjust.  Once again, one time is not a pattern.  A personality disorder is a long time way of being in the world.

5.  Recurrent suicidal behavior.

Trapped, controlled, beaten, low self-esteem caused by emotional abuse.  Who wouldn’t think of suicide?  After she leaves he might come up with a tactic of telling others that she is suicidal in order to find her, get the children from her, or have other people “watch” her.  She’s probably at a low point in her life even after leaving:  facing poverty, continuing to be harassed, feeling unsafe, having PTSD.  Is this a consequence of continued harassment?  Or a lifelong issue?

6.  Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood.

Anxiety?  Hell yes.  Depression?  Having to wash her face and put dinner on the table with a smile or face the consequences of continued battering?  Her life has come down to pretending to be fine when inside she wants to cry.  Even after leaving it takes a while to relearn how to live.  How to feel that it’s okay not to manage other people’s moods.  How to show anger.  

7.  Chronic feelings of emptiness.

She just sacrificed her whole life to have her freedom back.  How would you feel?  Also, the entire focus was on keeping him happy and now that that’s gone she has to find things to fill up that space.

8.  Inappropriate intense anger.

Or a PTSD panic attack caused by a trigger.  Always being on guard has left her ready to jump at any second.  And she’s angry anyway.  All the anger she has suppressed in order to stay safe may explode now that she’s safe.  Even before leaving, a person can only suppress for so long.  

9.  Transient, stress related paranoia or severe dissociative symptoms.

She may be paranoid about continued battering or entering a new relationship and dissociation is a symptom of severe PTSD.  

The questions to ask are:  Is this a lifelong pattern or is she having these behaviors while still in or having just left an abusive relationship?  Is she this way in other non-abusive relationships.  Even if she is still in contact with him, she may be pretending in order to find out what he’s up to.    This does not mean she is Borderline.  It’s a survival technique called Keep Your Enemy Close.

I had 7 out of the 9 symptoms myself (maybe more if I was truly honest) the last 2 years of my marriage when things were really bad.  Some of them were caused by daily abuse.  Some were ways I kept my sanity.  Has anyone ever thought that I was a Borderline?  NO!

If you are an abused woman and you are looking for professional help please find someone who has experience in this area and don’t stay with one who makes you feel worse about yourself.  Shopping around is just fine.

It’s time to look away if you don’t want to hear about the female body.  Look away!  Go read something else!  I try not to shy away from talking about intimate issues even if people I see everyday are going to read my posts.  But maybe there is someone out there looking for answers or sympathy.  Maybe some big burly man needs to know what pregnancy feels like so that he’ll give his wife some space.

There are many reasons a pregnant woman might not want sex.  This doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.  This isn’t necessarily a self-image problem.    I know my beach ball is SEXY.  Snort.  Would you find a man’s beer gut sexy?  You people are weird.    Here are the reasons I just don’t want to be that up close and in person.

• It’s very WEIRD that there’s a little person in the way.  He struggles to get out of the way.  It’s hard to get into the moment with all that going on.  Put your dog between us and see if that works for you.  It doesn’t.
• That 15 or more pounds of baby and uterus and fluid is heavy.  And where do you think it sits?  Now if I already had a beer gut and a huge ass maybe I wouldn’t even notice.  But I don’t.  It’s sitting on my pelvic bone and all that’s under it.  Everything aches all day.  It feels swollen.
• Think about the hours after a Thanksgiving meal.  That time when your pants are still unbuttoned and you’re laying back in your grandfather’s recliner taking a nap.  I feel like that all the time–full of baby.  Half nauseous, needing to burp, afraid that any sudden movement may cause upchucking.   Cover me with a blanket and let me sleep1
• I’m gassy all the time and although you say you don’t care I still get up in the middle of the night and walk up the stairs to rumble in the upstairs bathroom because the downstairs bathroom echoes because of all that amazing tile you put in.  I’m not going to lay in bed and just let loose.  You might be okay with doing that.  I’m still trying to keep up with the impression that I NEVER EVER have gas.
• EXHAUSTION.  My heart rate goes up when I climb the stairs and I have to sit down.  If we have sex that is going to take all my energy for the day and I won’t be able to clean the kitty litter.
• Orgasm causes contractions and although they are not REAL contractions they are so uncomfortable like my uterus is being squeezed and I can’t breathe.  I’m trying to avoid contractions until the very end.
• This time I’ve had a head cold the entire time, which if I count how long I’ve been pregnant including the miscarriage in June is going to be like a full year.  I can’t breathe through my nose EVER.  I cough up phlegm every day.  There’s very little oxygen.
• My idea of a good time is laying on my side with a pillow between my legs and falling asleep for longer than half an hour.

Don’t worry, by June I’ll be back to myself.

The daily ritual of taking care of someone other than myself, every day, no matter what my mood or the size of my growing uterus–this is what life is really about.  It’s difficult to discuss my sometimes resentment toward this new baby with people I work with.  It’s the difference between working full-time and my position as part-time on my own schedule.  It’s not that I don’t like my work.  I love it!  I’m just not willing to do it 8 hours a day, 5 days a week.  There are other things that are just as/or more valuable to me.  Simple things.  Cleaning my house.  Watering my plants.  Reading vampire novels, giving the rabbit a little freedom, shoving the cat in a litter box until he figures out where to go, nagging my children, organizing my husband’s TO-DO list, planning vacations, playing fetch with the cat and trying not to be pissed off at him.

I’m not worried about my “career” because my job is not my career anymore than my daughter’s bed is a good place to pee first thing in the morning.  My career is finding balance in all things.  So a baby is going to throw off the balance I have finally found and I’m not sure how to balance ONE MORE THING in any sane way.

Of course, I’ll be able to drink wine again so I might not care.

MEN

This one is a true test of patience for any woman.  (Some of this post I’m stealing from Abrah, but she won’t mind because she loves me.)

• Is it necessary to spend 45 minutes talking to a dog about going for a walk, without actually leaving yet?
• Does my pregnancy cause him to sit in a recliner in his pajamas watching television?
• If I have to lay down after everything I do because my heart is racing and my legs are weak does that give him permission to do the same?
• What am I supposed to say when he asks if he can help when I’m halfway through something like cooking dinner or cleaning out the toilet?
• Thinking about doing a chore does not deserve applause.
• If I’m carrying trash in from the dumpster and he asks if he can carry it out for me, and I’m already annoyed because I can’t find my license, it’s a bad time to  have to explain the whole thing.  Stopping me for long, complicated explanations that make me sound crazy is frustrating.
• Saying “I would have done that” after I’m done doing something isn’t really helpful because I can wait until my shoes stick to the kitchen floor and an “I would have done that” didn’t make it any cleaner.
• I’m sure what I’ve said 5 times isn’t useful information to a man and that’s why he can’t store it but I don’t know whether to laugh or growl when he looks surprised when I say it for the 6th time so I settle for walking out of the room to sigh.

I’m sure men have their good qualities and that’s why we keep them.  And now that I’m carrying a boy and I’m full of boy hormones I understand better how different they are from us.  My IQ has dropped 20 points and I have no idea what anyone said to me yesterday.    My processing speed is about that of his old laptop that grinds when it wakes up.

I need to finish this post and talk about pets and how I really would like a life in which everyone in my house knows where to pee, but I need something and I don’t know what it is so I’m going to wander around until I see something I might want.

I admit that I delayed ordering anything until 10 days before Christmas.  Districtlines seems to be the only place to order what she wanted, but the shipping rates were higher than my rabbit after eating a catnip ball.

What’s today?  January 4th.  I haven’t seen the package yet.  I haven’t received an email reply to my customer service request from December 13rd.  I have seen that it finally shipped on the 26th and sat in Florida for 3 days at Fed Ex and that it’s now sitting in Colorado since the 28th.  What is it doing?  Partying?

Livelavalive:  Find someone else to carry your merchandise.

This reminds me of the webcam that Nick bought me and showed up after 3 weeks with Chinese writing and stamps that said it was airmailed across China.

Now I’m going to go back to playing fetch with the cat with a Qtip.

Crap in a CAN ALERT!

I feel a little guilty today since Nick got up at the butt crack of 4:30 to go to work and he’ll be gone until 5:30 tonight or later.  I know growing a human is hard work, but all I’ve done today is ask the kids to do the dishes, take them grocery shopping with me, beg for some upkeep on my toes, watch old episodes of BONES, eat, burp up food, and try to breathe.  It is hard work because it’s so boring to sit around and I just want to DO SOMETHING.  I thought about cleaning the backyard where the dogs have carried things out of the garage like my gardening shoes.  And then the couch called me and I ended up talking to Gina about skulltulas.

It would seem like I have plenty of time to write.  Except my brain is mush and I can’t find words or I switch them or the wiring from my brain to my tongue is tangled.  Now is not a good time to be serious about anything.

At least there are 6 seasons of BONES to catch up on.

Minecraft could easily become an obsession, but I do need something to do when I can’t move any more at the end of the day.  I know it’s getting bad when I’m driving around town and the courthouse looks like an excellent building to use as a shelter because it’s made of brick blocks.

I might have to take my laptop to work today just to have something to do.  Yesterday I had one client in 8 hours and ended up with my head on my desk talking to myself.  I was so happy to see one of the case managers that I hugged her.  Completely out of character for me!

Even now I’m procrastinating, but I should go get ready for work.  My attitude is bad lately due to policy changes that screw me.  I don’t think it’s time to look for another job, not with baby coming, but I have to back out from getting too involved in the way things work and just make my money and run like I did for the first year I was there.

He woke up with the alarm clock this morning.  At least we know he’s not deaf.

He also likes the pastor’s voice at Harvest.

Christmas is days away and I’m having trouble just keeping on track with the day to day stuff. I could use another month or two. Half of the things I ordered have not yet arrived. And I just want to sleep. Or play minecraft. I blame Gina for my newest addiction and for the floors needing to be vacuumed and dinner made. I haven’t picked up a book in days and I dream about everything being made of blocks of material and last night Justin Bieber was dancing around in his underwear, which I can’t blame on Gina and I think instead it has something to do with noticing that Haley had painted her Justin Bieber’s poster’s eyes with sparkles yesterday.
I wasn’t going to talk about mucous but this commercial just came on and now I feel like I have to. I have so much mucous all the time. Day and night. I can’t wait to not be pregnant! I will never again complain about my creaky joints or my hangy gut or finding a gray hair.

I’m lying. What else would I do with my time.