Pandora's Aquarium: Borderline/prostitution - Pandora's Aquarium

That was the title of the email I sent. To a borderline specialist. I googled "borderline" and "Montreal" and somehow ended up on her practice's website.

Ok, so what do you know about prostitution?

I've been in the health system for the last 18 years. I came in at 17, I'm 35 today. If I had a dollar for every prescription...

Mostly, I've been treated as bipolar. This was my doctor's conclusion after 3 suicide attempts on 3 different kinds of antidepressants. Because of that, I have a phobia of medication. So lithium, clozapine, whatever other meds he's prescribed over the past 10 years, I never took them - or enough to see an effect. Two weeks drop-out rule. And he says that's a symptom of bipolar disorder: we're very difficult patients.

But see, it's not just that I'm sabotaging myself. I don't believe I'm bipolar. I'm a pretty bright girl, I can read the DSM; I even wrote a grad paper on ADHD once. Sure, I have some of the symptoms, but don't we all? If I am bipolar, how can I control myself part of the time? Why do I never get in that deep shit? I'm still alive, aren't I? I haven't gone back to prostitution.

I always told him the only cure was me helping myself.

Aide-toi et le ciel t'aidera.
Demande et tu recevras.

If I just reacted differently, if I just saw life at another angle, if I wasn't so... not weak... if I had more control, more understanding of how my patterns work, I wouldn't get in all the shit I still manage to get myself in all the time.

Last time was in Natashquan. Google it, it's at the end of the world. I moved there in August for a new job - or to quit my current good job. By November, I'd done it again. Tylenol. Hospital.

I didn't want to kill myself. I wanted someone to hear me.

The doctor I met there heard. I told him everything: the prostitution, the power I get from it, the depression, the cyclical aspects of things (every October-November, every February-March), the diagnosis I don't believe in.

-I'd decided to start taking the lithium again two weeks before the hospital.-

He suggested I meet a psychiatrist in Sept-Îles. He thought I was "borderline".

He said it in French "personnalité limite" so I had to google it later. Then, I was mad. Borderline. What all the women society already labels as crazy have.

But after doing more research, it started to settle in. It sounds a lot like what I've been saying: something that can't be fixed by medication.

It seems to me that borderlines' problems is they don't know how to live in the world. They're just a compact ball of defense mechanisms that erupt in all sorts of destructive behaviors, in my case semi-alterstates that make me quit jobs, run away; release the stress.

Yesterday, I google therapists. I don't know why. I've become so resistent to the idea that help exists. But she seemed like a match to me. The way she presents herself; the issues that she deals with. I emailed "borderline/prostitution", she emailed back a half hour later.

Surprise.






Will have to tell Mrs. E this coming Thursday. I think she'll be happy.

If only I can stay calm till then.

I mentioned I was looking for a borderline specialist with experience with victims of prostitution. And that I was concerned about becoming a statistic. The 10% suicide success rate of borderlines (which I believe is about the same rate as the prostitute population).

I feel weak but hopeful right now.



csg