oz

Back to the rollercoaster...

One of the metaphors for Eldest's "possible" diagnosis is the Wizard of Oz.  The idea being that sometimes you live in the normal world--Kansas-- and sometimes you live in Oz.  (And this metaphor really strikes home when you actually live in Kansas.)

Can I just say...YUP?!  That's exactly what it's like.  It's like houses dropping out of the sky crushing people and Wheelies and people who tie their heads on with beautiful ribbons.  (Did you know there are 14 Oz books?)  I'm pretty sure Frank Baum had a relationship with mental illness.

Eldest won't read a thing about what's going on with her...at least that I am aware of.  The books I have bought her about recovery have been left out in the hallway unopened.  I understand this.  Those books are damn scary but ultimately helpful and uplifting because of good endings.  I only gave her the ones with a good ending.

All this about books to say, I don't think she really knows about the "Oz" metaphor for BPD.  So you could have knocked me over with a feather when I found the following status on Eldest's Facebook page:

Eldest's Friend:  Where have you disappeared to?

Eldest:  the land of oz...XD

True.  That's exactly where she is.  There is this STUNNING lack of logic going on.  I mean stunning.  She even knows that her decision-making is impaired.  But she doesn't care.  She's caught in the cycle so that's where we are...Oz.  (Interesting coincidence between the word "cycle" and "cyclone", eh?)

The current cyclone?  She's on a hunger strike until I "change the way I treat her".  Let's assume that's the "logical" part.  The illogical part?  Yeah.  Wait for it.  She hasn't told me she's on a hunger strike or why or what the alleged "treatment" is that I need to change.  I only know because her therapist is guiding me away from walking into the drama trap.  I'm supposed to offer food and when it's refused, ignore it.  (I would like to scream "seriously?" and "for how long?" and "WTH?"  But I am instead going with it.  Call me the no-drama-mama.)

This particular trip to Oz is all precipitated by the fact that she decided she really wanted to try life drug-free.  This is a laudable goal and I can truly understand it.  I would HATE knowing that my personality was being controlled by drugs; I would desperately want to be able to control myself without the drugs.  So, since she was doing so much better, we gave it a go.  

To use a lame phrase...EPIC fail.  

But, guess what?  If I suggest she go back on the meds...what do you think would happen then?  I think it's really got to be her therapist's idea.  And one of my frustrations is that I really don't know when or if that's going to happen.  Medical privacy and all that...I cannot mess with their relationship.  Realizing that I don't and can't control this situation ... that I can't fix it ... is really hard on this particular control freak mommy.  Wait.  I mean "no-drama-mama"...chant along with me no-drama-mama...no-drama-mama...no-drama-mama.

The more I think about it, I'm pretty sure she is Baum's Princess Langwidere.  Ugh.  When I was a kid and read the books, it was Princess Langwidere who terrified me the most.  There was something about that room full of heads in cabinets that was truly scary.  But the fact that Langwidere's personality changed with each head really freaked me out.  Clearly, that concept still terrifies me, except now, I get to live it.  The way Eldest's moods change it is exactly like she is another person...or at least has another mind.  It's not really different personalities with Eldest though.  It's just like there are these moments where she snaps and swings into the completely illogical place.  It 's a place where nothing we do works.  It is unbalanced and ridiculous and nonsensical.  And I HATE it here.  

I need to find the ruby key, find the right head and tie it back on.  Then I need to destroy that damn key so she can't change again.

Last time we went through this, there was a level of depression Eldest was suffering.  She's not suicidal now (that I know of).  For this, I am thankful.  Also unlike last time, this time her father is not the bad one.  (I wrote about how borderline's "split" people here.)  In 2009, he could do no good; sure, the hate spilled over onto me too, but I wasn't the omnipresent evil in her life.  He was.  This time, I am all that is bad.  This is draining.  I find myself sobbing and saying things like, "I can't go back to this place."  But I don't really have a choice, do I?  The damn tornado picked us up and moved us there and... absent finding some magic ... there isn't a thing we can do to get back.  It is out of our control.  

Anybody got a pair of these so I can find my way back to Kansas?