When we shove feelings aside and don’t deal with them, we do so to avoid the pain that those feelings bring up in us. Shame and sadness are two of the most common triggers that cause people with BPD to reflexively retreat and affect a blank demeanor, belying the turmoil under the surface
Loving Someone with BPD: Overcoming ‘Inhibited Grieving’
Over a year ago I fostered two little dogs who then became permanent little dogs. Lily and Tinkerbell were little old ladies who had been together their whole lives. Sadly last August Tinkerbell became gravely ill and it was discovered that she had cancer throughout her body and the kindest thing to do was to let her go. On the night before, I brought her home from the vets for the night. She sat beside me in the car when I brought Lily out to her and as they were reunited there was this really powerful moment of communication between them. As weak and ill as she was, Tinkerbell’s face lit up. Her eyes brightened and there was a spark of energy from them both. That night I stayed in the sitting room with them and the feeling remained. It was more than human, more than species…it was love and acceptance. It is hard to describe but totally unforgettable. In their body language they told each other everything. I was fixated by them. They taught me something that night.
I think the image stays with me because it made me think of my own experience of loss and what any of us might want when faced with losing someone we love. We want a chance to say what needs to be said. We want the chance to show how we feel. It’s my belief that that doesn’t often happen. There is too much else going on. We are hit with an onslaught of fear and love and every other emotion in varying degrees. It’s not a situation you can be prepared for and guilt is part of grief so I think we’re often very hard on ourselves without stepping back to look at the situation and allow for the fact that all we could do is our best.
The term inhibited grief is used in DBT therapy and as the above quote says, it’s simply that there’s times that grief doesn’t get to happen because it’s overwhelmed by other things going on. This isn’t unique to people with BPD or mental health issues. For anyone, grief is messy. Families are complicated. Love isn’t straightforward. Relationships are bumpy. We all have a story.
Sometimes though, the complications are bigger and messier than expected. There might be conflict, other losses or trauma. Sometimes there isn’t space for the grieving process and we might think that we can escape it, that the process can be halted or quashed. For those of us with BPD the fear of not being able to handle intense emotions means we bury them. But it has to be done. I’ve been told over and over that grieving has to be gone through.
In my own experience, there was a time that I thought I was a monster. All I felt was numbness and a void. I waited and waited for the crying and sorrow and it never came. Very quickly shame built up on top of that. When people were kind to me I felt like a fraud. I started to think of myself as somehow devoid of emotions, less of a person for what I couldn’t feel. Sometimes I seemed to step away from myself and watched as I pushed myself further and further as if to test what I could withstand.
It started to feel like not being properly human at all.
It took a long time to see that the feelings were there but they were so huge that I hadn’t felt safe to express them. That is still the case but the difference is that I’m aware of them. Right now, especially right before significant dates, there’s a ball of string tangled and frayed. It looks as if I’ll never straighten it out. Sometimes I can take a thread. Sometimes I can sit and unravel some of it. There are moments that a feeling hits me and scares me but also brings a sense of validation.
The best advice that I’ve been given and that I would give to anyone in a similar situation is to try to talk about it, write about it, draw it, simply find a way to bring out some of what’s inside you. Don’t be afraid of the feelings when they come. They are natural, part of a process that our bodies and minds know how to handle. We can do it. We can name and validate our experiences.
Mostly, look after yourself.
Going back to my little dogs, Lily did her grieving just as any human would. She was quiet and withdrawn and didn’t want to be left alone. I took her everywhere with me. Gradually she began to peek out of the window and enjoy the outings. She found a new routine of spending time at my father’s house for a few hours each day. She still does that. She had check-ups at the vet and visits to the groomer. Her body and mind were cared for. She sits beside me now…a little individual instead of part of a pair. But she did it. She found her way. Her process was also beyond species. It’s part of life and something that we’ll all go through.
Grief is about love and loss. Loss of a relationship but also loss of what could have been, what we might have wanted, what we needed. It’s about who we are and who we want to be. There’s no real beginning or end to it; it comes with us. The best way I can sum up is in the beautiful words of John O’Donaghue:
Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.
John O’Donohue “For Grief”