Things I Learned From Living in a Homeless Shelter. No. 6

In 2007, I spent several months living in a homeless shelter. It was one of my greatest experiences. One that I wouldn’t trade for anything. It was a gift actually. I had so much to learn and the universe didn’t let me down. It gave me the gift of “rock bottom.” Some of the knowledge I now possess, could not have been learned in any other way. I wasn’t unhappy in the shelter, I turned it into an adventure, and kept a great sense of humor. That is why you’ll find that some of my examples are rather humorous. Others though, are very serious.

Homeless Shelter Learns, No. 6:

I learned not to run off with guys that I barely know – even if it seems harmless to go have a little fun on the town, harm can most definitely come.

Jaen Wirefly and I have been having a very interesting conversation this morning and I thank her for it. It has reminded me of some of the dangerous situations I encountered (read that as me being impulsive) but survived living in a shelter.

There was this guy I knew who was occasionally allowed to stay at the shelter (being a single man, they rarely let him). I felt sorry for him because he had cancer. He’d survived it before. He’d been in prison for years (not saying why and please don’t ask) and it had been treated successfully there. But it came back. And this time, he decided he was done living. He wasn’t going to fight it a second time, he said, because it was just too awful the first time around.

Anyway, I felt bad for the guy. He’d been through hell, quite frankly, so I took pity on him. Pity turns out to be a bad thing. Not only does it enable people, but it puts the person giving pity in a bad situation.

One day, we decided to have some fun in town. We got on the bus together and rode around the city, hopping off here and there to get coffee, have pizza, and go to the zoo. After we’d had our fun, we were on our way to the bus stop, to catch the bus back to the shelter, when he just lost it. He attacked me in broad daylight, yes, cars going by, no one stopping to help. He ripped the very precious and expensive necklace that my grandfather had given me off of my neck. He told me that he should “probably take me in the woods and kill me.”

Why? Well keep reading.

He’d spent the day telling me that I was his only friend, his one true friend, and that I was the only person he could count on. I fell for that (by the way, when someone says that, run like hell). He’d also been telling me that if I were really his friend, I’d sell that necklace to help him out. I’d not responded to those statements, I had no idea what to say!

I can only guess that he was so angry at not having help, at being in prison for years, at the thought of dying, that he had no self-control left. He was probably furious that someone could have something so valuable and pretty while he had nothing, and probably envy, jealousy and rage took over. Obviously he was not very healthy mentally. I am sure having cancer did not help his mental state.

If you’re wondering what I did, I ran like hell! I ran to the nearest place, a motel, and got myself inside to safety and called the shelter to have their van come pick me up. No, I did not call the cops. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it was fear, that he’d come after me. I don’t know. But I didn’t.

Before I understood that I had BPD, I did MANY THINGS that I cannot explain. And sometimes people start asking me questions: why, how, when, where, who – that make me very uncomfortable because I CAN’T necessarily explain these things. Borderlines are usually extremely impulsive, so there’s the only explanation that matters. Thank goodness I have that under control now!

Well, back to the story, he did not attempt to stay at the shelter that night, thankfully. A day or two later he stopped by to tell me that he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore. Well heck, that did not upset me. And no, I did not freak out and yell at him or say a word. Again, don’t ask. I can’t explain. I just let him say what he wanted, it was a two-minute conversation.

Well, he is dead now, he died not long after this incident.

The truth: I have empathy for the circumstances that lead to his behavior. THIS DOES NOT MEAN IT WAS OKAY. It’s just that I understand he was very lost and hurting.

Many times I think we forget that when someone is violent there is a reason behind it. Years of neglect, abuse, maybe prison or cancer or some other illness. There is a moral in here. Try to understand why people do the things they do. Just try not to put yourself in danger in the process!

I took away very valuable lessons. Don’t go running off with men (or anyone) you don’t know very well. Don’t pity people. Try your best not to enable people, but also try your hardest to have empathy. And the other thing I learned: it’s not smart to wear expensive necklaces while living in a homeless shelter. That necklace meant a lot to me. I would never have sold it at the time, not even to get out of the shelter. I would now though. I value myself more and would have the realization that the necklace, while beautiful and sentimental, is not worth more than ME. It is now gone. I am sure someone found the necklace, maybe they had it repaired. If so, I hope they are enjoying it and that they are more mindful about wearing it than I was.

Love to all. Life goes on after rough stuff. I bear no anger toward this man. I am glad he is resting in peace now. 

Can You REALLY Heal From Borderline Personality Disorder?

The answer is yes! It requires hard work. Make no mistake about it.

It takes: a little medication, a lot of therapy, and a TON of determination, but it can be done.

Educate yourself. Read. Read. Read. Read.

Empower yourself. Do not doubt your ability to heal from BPD! Do not give up!

But do not underestimate the amount of work that you will have to do in order to get better. 

My beautiful bloggers: do not allow anyone to tell you that you cannot reverse this illness.

It is absolutely curable.

Hint: I am trying to empower you!


Stuck in a Lizard Fantasy

Image found at:

I am stuck in a lizard fantasy,

yes, a lizard fantasy –

scampering with lizards, I am

free –

free to dart and dash.

Having no direction –

my true persona is


Ahhh –

Rushing under bushes, I am

protected –

from day vulchers

and dream suckers.

I’ve elegant toes,

a lovely, swishing tail


intricately woven spots.

Dare to look and you will


I dazzle my observers,

but I don’t need


interact with them.

They can’t catch me –

examine my skin, judge my exterior,

look for flaws –

and wonder what’s wrong with my insides.

In my reptile skin,

reptilian brain

is acceptable matter –

scurry away, I may,

from scrutinizing eyes,

dream suckers,

day vulchers,

disorders of any kind –

my chameleon interior

vouched for, loved and respected.

I’m stuck in a lizard fantasy,

it seems –

for awhile crocodile.

How Keeping a Gratitude Journal Helps Me Beat Depression

Shortly after I was diagnosed with BPD, I came across the idea of keeping a Gratitude Journal. I’d been researching different types of therapies that I could do by myself at home and discovered Journal Therapy. Though truthfully, it was more of a re-discovery. I’d kept a journal religiously as a child and at a few points during adulthood, so I already knew it was quite therapeutic, I just hadn’t known it was an organized style of therapy.

The suggestion to keep a Gratitude Journal kept popping up in several locations that touted the healing effects of Journal Therapy. I’ll admit, though I read about it several times, I kept dismissing the idea. And the reason why seems rather silly to me now. In a nutshell, it sounded too simple. I thought: how can keeping a list of things for which I am grateful make that much of a difference in my life? It just didn’t seem possible. Well, of course not. When you’re stuck in a negative thought pattern, virtually nothing sounds promising – basically, you can’t see the forest for the trees. It makes sense. How do you make yourself feel grateful when you’re not? Sometimes you’re just too depressed to feel any gratitude at all.

At a time when I was more depressed than I’d ever been, I thought the answers to my problems somehow couldn’t be as simple as keeping a list. I didn’t feel simple. I felt very complicated, uncertain, perplexed and convinced, of course, that nothing could make me feel better. How to get away from those negative feelings then just had to be elaborate! Ah, the ironic joy of hopelessness!

Staying stuck in the same old rut had its rewards. If I thought the answers had to be terrifically complex, then I could avoid helping myself and stay a victim forever. And the fun in that? Well, you get to keep throwing yourself one pity party after another.

But one day I decided to try it. I figured even if it did absolutely nothing for me, it couldn’t cause any harm.

At first, I wasn’t that motivated, so I didn’t keep a “real” list – a legitimate journal. I’d just scratch out one or two things on a sticky note, the backs of envelopes and receipts, or even next to an inspiring paragraph I read in a novel. But at some point, I realized it was helping. I felt better, more positive, less depressed, when I concentrated on feeling grateful. With that awakening, I moved to whole sheets of paper. Oooo! Ok, so the migration didn’t improve my organization, not right away. I’d often write something down at odd angles and just circle what I’d wrote, so the result was a bunch of text-filled bubbles on a plain piece of paper. One day, though, I noticed that these sheets were adding up. Instead of writing one thing on Tuesday, six things on Friday, and perhaps two on Sunday, I was adding several items each day. Whoa! That’s when I sat down and really thought about the difference it was making. It had become a habit and a good one at that. I did feel better, no longer quite so hopeless, hapless and helpless. I took a leap then and went out and bought myself a pretty bound journal. Since then, I look forward to filling one up and starting another. They help me stay positive now, but even better – maybe someday they will inspire my great-grandchildren.

Following is a sampler, a partial list of benefits I’ve uncovered so far. A year ago, I never could have imagined so many. I am actually grateful for gratitude. If you think about it, that’s pretty powerful.

  • Keeping a Gratitude Journal helps me stay focused on the present. Zen mind. It keeps me from spending too much time thinking about the warts of the past and the bunions of the future. What’s in front of me or within me, right this minute, that I can appreciate?
  • Over time, the journals have increased my overall awareness, period.
  • They have helped me slowly establish positive thought patterns instead of negative ones. Oh sure, I still get downright pessimistic sometimes, but instead of despair-dwelling for ten hours at a time, or even several days, I will feel contrary for a few moments – maybe an hour. This is obviously a major improvement. Looking for the negative in anything and everything used to be the norm for me, but now I find that more frequently I’m automatically looking for something more optimistic.
  • I say “thank you” more. The more I say “thank you” the more my family appreciates me and says “thank you” back. It has helped improve my relationships.
  • Finding things to be grateful for has reduced my feelings of anger considerably. I don’t even think I could measure the difference. It’s hard to be mad when you’re feeling grateful for something!
  • The more grateful I am, the more grateful I want to be. A wonderful ripple effect in place!
  • Gradually I’ve learned that I don’t need STUFF to make me happy. I can be grateful for things like air, sunshine, water, clouds, my own breathing and even the spotting of a lizard scampering happily (I’m assuming) in my garden. I am happy now with things that don’t come in shrink-wrapped packages. I don’t need a shopping fix in order to feel better.
  • Quite naturally, I take less for granted. I think about the gift of electricity, as an example. I can curl up on the couch at 9 pm, with a hot cup of peppermint tea, and write in my Gratitude Journal – electricity makes this possible. It’s so much easier to form letters sitting next to light bulbs. Yes, I’ve tried it by candle light, just to get a glimpse of what it might have been like to write at night a few hundred years ago. The ambiance is lovely, but penning in my journal is a bit on the difficult side.
  • Establishing this one good habit motivated me to create more of them. From the simple act of being grateful, I’ve been able to trash many of my maladaptive coping strategies and replace them with adaptive coping strategies.
  • Keeping track of what I am grateful for has allowed me to reduce the intense sting I’ll feel when I think I’m being rejected. Of course, being Borderline means I can be quite sensitive to rejection, but whenever I feel that way I can pull out a Gratitude Journal and remind myself of positive events – times when I was accepted in some way. After reading a few pages, I am back to coping in a healthy way.

Obviously keeping a Gratitude Journal is not a magic pill. There is no happy fairy dust. But it helps, tremendously. I am far less depressed. As more proof of its power, I offer this: I don’t take any psychiatric medications. I used to, but I don’t need them anymore. Of course, keeping a Gratitude Journal isn’t the only way I have learned to manage my moods (more posts coming soon) and it’s not the only way that I was eventually able to table the pills, but I encourage all to take that leap of faith and give it a shot, it really helps that much.

Don’t Quit When You Feel Inadequate!

The feeling of wanting to quit sometimes is very nearly unbearable. It’s such brutal work to change destructive habits and so easy to give up. Yikes, the temptation! Better than all the best foods right when you want them. Better than drugs. Better than success. Because at least, if you quit, you know you’re right – about yourself. You’ll never amount to anything, and you know it, so why bother to continue!? So satisfying. What disgusting happiness it is to put oneself down. Ever notice how ironically wonderful it feels to shun yourself?

So, this not quitting thing, well, this is relatively new for me. I won’t. I can’t. I promised. I promised myself and I promised my beautiful boyfriend. He made me. Well, damn him!

(I’m laughing, really!)

And what made me want to quit?

Last night, I asked my boyfriend what he thought of yesterday’s post. He said, “It was okay.” Just okay? Nothing more? I wanted to quit. Just quit. Delete my blog. Be done. Wipe my hands of it. I mean, why waste my time if it’s just okay? I felt so inadequate.The feeling was intense and tossed me right back into the invalidating, shark-filled waters of my childhood.

Oh, those annoying self-harm urges! Even when you know why you have them, they’re still a nuisance.

In my very first readings about Borderline I thought self-harm meant only the physical. But then I realized, no, it’s not. It’s anything you do that in the end brings on exactly the opposite of what you really want. It gives relief, this self-destruction, because you’ve just validated yourself by invalidating yourself, but it’s temporary bliss. Later you feel worse. I wanted to destroy the thing on which I’ve worked so diligently. Not okay. Quitting won’t bring me what I want. It will only affirm, for a DAY, negatively positive thoughts, positively negative thoughts and (joke on me) make me feel smug – see, you knew you’d quit – and then what? No! No quitting.

I remembered my DBT skills, thankfully, right at that moment – when I wanted to punish myself. Oh, what a pain they are at times. Well they are! They can be immensely burdensome to remember, when you want to lash out at not just others, but yourself. I don’t know which feeling is worse. But use them I did. “What, wait, why was it just okay?” And, no, it’s not that I’m looking to be perfect, as much as I’m trying to avoid INADEQUATE. I was munching away on baked potato skins, while I was asking him, trying to keep my cool. DIFFICULT! Because really I wanted to yell and tell him what a terrible boyfriend he was for not saying something glorious about my post – so I didn’t have to feel inadequate. He hasn’t seemed to enjoy them much lately, so the feeling of inadequacy has been building. I was proud though, despite feeling inadequate, because I didn’t lash out and bash the poor guy and I didn’t self-harm. I asked a question. I was clarifying, using Opposite Action!

I was surprised by his answer.

“Well, honey, you didn’t write about your shrinking and I thought that was the cool part,” he said. Shrinking? Confused, I was. He saw the look on my face and explained. “You know…you told me, when you’d go visit the Itty Bitty family, how they’d shrink you, magically, so you could fit through that little door.”

Ohhh! Gulp…

Oh, yeah! Right. Shrinking! I did forget. Well crap. Okay, so I’m not horrible. Now here, in this, is the art of Borderline maintenance. It’s in the constant self-monitoring and positive self-talk.

Right, it’s okay, these are just feelings. They’ll go away sooner or later. You’re upset because it’s challenging to get out of the habit of putting yourself down. Hey, remember, you’re not four anymore and no one can MAKE you feel bad. You’re an adult now, not a child and you can handle this. You’re not inadequate. How silly you are for thinking that. You’re not horrible either. You didn’t do anything wrong. So, you forgot a part you didn’t want to forget, but no biggie. Life goes on. Continue with your blog, continue to share, continue to trace your illness – to help yourself and maybe others. Keep writing. You like it! Stop feeling bad now, you, and go on and enjoy the new journal you’ve just bought for yourself. It’s red, your favorite color. The creamy pages are scrumptiously lined, elegantly detailed with flowers at the top and bottom and you really like it. Don’t be down. Don’t quit. Stop feeling sad and write in that journal.

You know what I bought the journal for? To keep a Gratitude list. I’m sitting here laughing. Yes, specifically to keep a list of things for which I am grateful. So would I be grateful if I’d quit, just because I had a few moments of feeling inadeQUIT? Uh, no, I don’t think so. What would the first entry look like? How nonsensical. “Today I quit writing. I gave up on my blog. Yep, just got rid of it. Oh, because I forgot something, about shrinking.”

My boyfriend, he’s a good guy. He does his best to understand me, even when he’s terribly confused by my emotions. I AM grateful for this. So, I put those iffy, self-doubt thoughts on clouds and let them float away. Then I grabbed the cute, butterfly-adorned notepad that I’d also just purchased and inked out a message on the very first sheet of paper:

I know it’s hard to understand me, thank you for trying so hard. It’s not easy to keep going, to not give up. Giving up has always been easier. Thank you for trying to help me keep going. I love you.

Well, I am happy to report that my first entry in my Gratitude Journal is this: I am grateful that I did not quit! I did not give up on myself. I can survive that feeling called inadequate and I don’t have to look for the elusive perfect feedback in order to keep going. I am good enough to pursue what I want.

Love, compassion to all. And don’t quit when you feel inadequate. THIS is part of  the art of Borderline maintenance.


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