PDA fae

Tag: writing

  • Limitations

    It goes without saying that life with disability, is a life lived with limitations. And I suppose also, it’s worth noting that that is every life lived, ever. No one is capable of every single thing ever.

    I’m struggling at the moment though, to accept the very real limits on my capacity, my chances, my opportunities – my ability to live my life as I would fully, authentically choose. I guess that’s part of being a PDAer, we don’t take well to having that taken from us. For me, my chronic pain and my bipolar (and my undiagnosed traumatic stress) really do take that autonomy from me.

    Hopefully over time I can go from strength to strength. Hopefully I can build a robust, and real, support network. Hopefully clopixol is as good a drug for me as I think it could be. Hopefully I can quit being a revolving door patient now we’re five years on from 2020.

    It’s all just “hopes” though. Progress is slow, and so uncertain. It’s so hard not to get lost in the “if only” and the anger. The grief. The rage at mental health teams that seriously let me down in my 20s. I first communicated my complex trauma at 22, at 34 I still do not actually have any trauma diagnosis – I find this frankly ridiculous. The closest I ever came was “it’s mild trauma, therefore BPD”… which just, uh, no. I’m angry that I had to spend thousands of pounds of savings to get a PDA modifier that was the only reason they ever changed their tunes, and started actually *listening* to me.

    What do you even do with that amount of anger? It’s only worthwhile if it’s used to channel towards something. I’ll always value fellow psychiatric survivors/patients/service users, of any stripe.

    On that note, I’mma quit rambling, and share one small thing I’m doing to try and help make a difference:

    El’s Feel Good Fundraise

    Raising money for mind is a small way I can channel myself, my experiences and my emotions right now – please, if you can, help me take a stand for those of us in society living with mental distress.

  • Finally home for good!

    NOTE: THIS POST IS AFFECTED BY THE REMANTS OF A SEVERE MOOD DISORDER, AND AS SUCH THE CONTENT VARIES FROM MY USUAL POSTING

    Oh gosh I felt so trapped on that ward. I literally had to run away from my discharge meeting because of that feeling – I needed to move, move move move move.

    Thankfully I know that coffee helps my brain, but that ideally it should not have milk in it (obviously!).

    Now I have my sensible meds, a sensible care co (lovely woman, B), sensible times to take them, a sensible psychiatrist in the community – and a sensible way to get diagnoses I need.

    I’ve had to defer a module at the OU which genuinely makes me very upset – but no worries, I can restart and do better than I was. It was a “bridge” module between level one and level two, which only makes me all the more determined – I will graduate this time, and probably in double time. I’ve studied full time before, I can do so again haha. For now I just need to finish the module I started and focus on the *maths content* – because everything else from that module is revise-able.

    Genuine study advice for anyone struggling: build in time to review. That’s what gets things into long term memory. My maximum working memory is literally SIX, and that’s where I get stuck – I have trouble holding things in my working memory to get to short term, to long term. My verbal working memory is better than my numerical as well, which might literally be stuck at 3 (working memory is 5 +/- 2, after all).

    As it goes, I’ll keep typing about specifically my life – here, substack, instagram, facebook. That’s all I can offer, my experience, my ways to cope: PDA style.