Holidaying

I got a little sidetracked on Friday by another post but here’s how I got on for two weeks in Northern Cyprus:

Well I didn’t realise exactly how hard it was going to be to enjoy two weeks of pure enjoyment. It was bloody hard work.

Now, don’t get me wrong on the whole I had a fantastic holiday. I didn’t realise quite how much I needed a holiday until I was out there. I realised that I had been running on adrenaline throughout the divorce process and after the divorce was finalised, I was just “getting through” to the holiday. Immediately prior to the holiday, I’d had to deal with the insurance company via my (now former) employer and the cat had been poorly too so by the time I got to the holiday I was thoroughly exhausted mentally.

The first couple of days I think I was just so pleased to be away; to be away from everything that was going on at home with the insurance company; to finally have a break basically from life after getting divorced and finding out that Dave and Alexis were engaged. Although, at the time, I had no idea about when they were getting married. My Grandma had been diagnosed with cancer, my Dad wasn’t having the best of time health-wise as was my Sister. It was a tough time so I should have had two blissful weeks of relaxation.

By the third day, I had started to relax properly. Unfortunately, I am well aware that you can run to the other side of the world but your problems and your mental health issues will come with you! You can’t just pack them off on their holidays. If only.

The sun was out and I was wearing swimsuits. My insecurities about my body were in full swing. I was wearing a t-shirt over the top of my swimsuit whilst lying on the sunbed but I wanted to get in the pool for a swim. I had to take the t-shirt off and walk to the pool exposing my swimsuited body to all those around. I hated it. I wanted to get in the pool as quickly as possible so I could hide under the water. As I was approaching the pool and actually walking down the steps into the pool, one of Jill’s sisters told me that it looked like I’d lost more weight. It was the perfect comment at the right time for me. It boosted my confidence enough to get me into the pool. Once I was in the pool, I felt safer because I was hidden under the water. This became a pattern throughout the holiday of wearing a t-shirt whilst lying on the sunbed but feeling safer once I was in the pool because I was hidden.

I was starting to get a colour from sunbathing so the self-harming scars were starting to glow like beacons in the dark! It felt to me like they were fluorescent. I was utterly convinced that everyone was looking at my scars and judging me. I couldn’t do anything about that. I’ve always been ashamed of the scars but the shame of the scars has never been able to stop me from cutting in the first place. That compulsion far overrides any sensible thoughts of what it will be like after I’ve cut.

We went out for dinner every evening. The food was absolutely amazing but I felt like such a hippo and so unworthy whilst we were out of an evening. That wasn’t just being around the incredibly glamorous ladies I was on holiday with but also seeing other people whilst we were out and about. I just felt like a sack of potatoes tied up in the middle. It didn’t help that the bungalow I was staying in had a full length mirror in the bedroom so I could really see the full extent of how bad I looked before I even walked out of the door.

I was making sure that I was taking my medication every day and one of the medications that I take has quite a sedative effect. Given how exhausted I was and the sedative effect medication, I think I made breakfast maybe half a dozen times during the whole holiday. I started not appearing in the mornings. I was hiding. Yes, the medication was making me sleepy but I just didn’t want to be seen in public by anybody. A couple of times, Jill would come to my room to check I was okay. I was just isolating and hiding. I felt dreadful. It would take so much for me to come out of my bungalow.

At the end of the first week, it all got too much for me. Everyone was getting ready to go out for dinner and I knew that I just couldn’t go. I just wanted to be by myself and hide. Everyone was trying to get me to go out and I burst into tears in the bar where we would meet before dinner. Jill’s Aunt offered to stay behind with me but I wanted to be on my own so I worked hard to reassure everyone that I would be okay. I think everything had just caught up with me. I was so tired, my insecurities were in overdrive and the BPD was just doing its own thing! Eventually, everyone went off for dinner and I took the time to myself to try to compose myself and use the mindfulness techniques to get myself back on track.

I was pretty quiet for the remainder of the holiday but I was just making sure that I made the most of the time I had. There were still days where I struggled to leave the bungalow. I did a couple of day trips with the rest of the London Family but I was quite happy just pottering around the hotel and the complex. It was my version of isolating. It was what I needed to do. Don’t get me wrong, I was still involved with what the London Family were doing and I was going out for dinners and enjoying our return to the hotel bar for after dinner drinks. Well, in my case it was after dinner coffee although I did have a couple of cocktails whilst I was away. I was having a laugh and enjoying the sunshine and everyone’s company. I just had to do it on my timescale and in my own BPD-infused way.

All in all, I really did have a wonderful holiday. I enjoyed the sunshine, fabulous food and great company. I had to do what I needed to regarding the BPD. There were times I isolated, there were times I wanted to be in company. I do genuinely believe that for the first post-divorce holiday with a lot of people who I care about, I coped pretty well. It may have seemed from the outside that I was quiet and withdrawn but I had to do what was best for my mental health and to only have one public episode of bursting into tears, I think was pretty good going.

Well, it couldn’t have been too bad as I’ve signed up for next year’s trip! It’s Jill’s Sister’s 60th and we’re all going back for another round! I genuinely believe that next year’s trip will be a little easier for me. Don’t get me wrong, the insecurities and the issues will still be there but having already done it once, I know for sure that I can do it again. Oh, and do you know what? I only used the hair straighteners once and never bothered with the make-up bag!!