In today’s post, my readers will get the pleasure to meet the newbie to the writing team here on Hazardous Minds. If you are clueless about what I am speaking about I would suggest checking out the updates. And so without further ado, I am pleased to hand over the reins for today’s post to Mrs Chelsea Morgan. So stick around and see what she has to say and send her a huge warm welcome.
This post was written by Chelsea Morgan of masterywithmrsmorgan.com
Is there anyone here from America!? No? Just me…?
That’s okay! I am excited to share my story and the impact DBT has had in my life thanks to Kirby inviting me to her blog <3
Hi, my name is Chelsea Morgan, a.k.a. Mrs Morgan and my defining mental health trait is my borderline personality disorder. It’s been a long journey getting here to a more stable condition, but I’m on the path to self-enlightenment.
I am going to spend the next several hundred words telling you about HOW I got to here, but the following blogs will be meant to help you build yourself up from a bipolar/borderline diagnosis.
Born in Germany to two American parents in the army, I was an average child. I moved to America at 11 months old, living with my grandparents for a little while my parents settled into a new home.
After my sister was born, and we moved home to Maine, my parents became quite tired of each other. At five years old, I was moved to Pennsylvania to live with my mother’s parents and my mother.
Mother decided to join the army again after being a civilian CNA and it wasn’t paying the bills. 9/11 happened around the same time and we were afraid that mother would be deployed for the next 13 years.
Meet the Newbie: The School Years
There were several remarkable events that remain in my trauma filled childhood that causes me angst to this day:
- My mother’s first boyfriend. He was a very awkward man that at one point shared his man parts with us… Talk about messed up.
- My mother was a fan of partying over being with us. Frequently we would be sent to my grandparents so she could enjoy nights out getting hammered.
- Father was (and still is) an alcoholic. I don’t even know if he can function past noon without a drink anymore. But I saw awful things thanks to his actions, such as him beating my step-mom up one 4th of July.
- My sister and I were not priorities for my father, either. It was as though we didn’t exist until it was time to visit him in Maine. So we’d go months without contact to being forced 500 miles away from our constant parent.
- Yelling was also a constant in our home, no matter who’s home we were at. (Which is why rage is one of my first go-tos for my triggers with BLPD)
- My family was not the type to attend any form of event to show support. I think the only reason they went to a choir recital was because they’d have to pick me up soon after.
Meet the Newbie aka the Flourishing Flower
Despite everything I was still able to flourish in the environment I was forced to be in, however. I was always an excellent student and took pride in the work I handed in. Friends were plentiful during my early years, but I had one problem: we moved. A lot.
By the time I graduated high school, I had lived in 13 different homes and attended 9 different schools. My struggles with identity started in 7th grade when we moved into our last home.
I was put into public school after having been in private, catholic schools for six years. I had a very Disney-inspired idea of what a young adult was supposed to do/look like.
Learning to hold down the fort
During my sophomore year, my step-dad was deployed to Afghanistan. He had been my rock and now I had to be the one holding the fort down. Reminding my mother to pay bills while I cooked meals and cleaned the house was not my idea of perfect.
When he came home, he was told I did nothing but spend time with my boyfriend, now husband.
OH and he was forced to move his parents in the home and watch his father slowly die from sclerosis of the liver. My high school years were far from perfect but I struggled to let anyone in to see the shit show it truly was.
Some things are silly to fret over, but much of my childhood I struggled to set aside my perfectionist/people-pleasing ways and it hurt greatly.
The After Years…
I had a wandering spirit that was not fed for 6 years thanks to us settling down. This propelled me into the Army straight after high school so again it was meet the newbie.
I was one of the best soldiers one of my leaders shared with me. But a break during basic training hurt my ability to receive a promotion I deserved. I promise I am not conceited, this is exactly what others tell me though.
During a physical fitness test, I injured my shoulder severely. Thankfully I passed the test and it allowed me to be stationed in a unit, but it was actually for the worst…
I was stationed in South Korea, working for the confinement facility. While our inmates were relatively tame, the company I was in had many who were not.
I was one of four females, the only young white girl and way out of my element. This is when I had my first suicide attempt.
Because of my mental health, and their inability to pinpoint what was causing the shoulder pain, I was removed from service and sent home. The greeting I received was not all you’d hope for.
Let’s speed up this conversation…
I spent years floundering. Pain clouded every decision I made, but thankfully a civilian doctor was approved for exploratory surgery, but that was merely the tip of my iceberg.
When I decided to get married, I had been dealing with parents who did not agree with the road I took to get there and they did not show up for my big day (ouch!)
We lost our first son 10 days after our wedding, a miscarriage that my body never recognized was happening. My parents for the win: they said I DESERVED. (Please note that “my parents” in this blog refers to my mother and step-dad).
After another hard pregnancy, Ryan and I had our bundle of joy: Derek. I almost died on the table, though before we got the chance to meet the newbie to the family.
Near death experience
I haemorrhaged after he was born, but my body wasn’t expelling the clots so they had no idea until Ryan yelled at the doctors to do something, I was dying.
We fostered my niece for half a year, two weeks Derek turned one! This is called kinship fostering, and it is not for the faint of heart. Much of my time was spent actively advocating for her rights and well being as a foster child of a transient, drug-addicted mother.
Working in an office was soon to become a toxic environment as I wished to move further up the food chain. Despite following instructions, consistently completing my work early, and asking for more work – to this manager I was a threat.
Covid brought about the breakdown you expect. I had become a stay-at-home mother and my rage/emotional responses were becoming so frequent I was constantly exhausted before opening my eyes in the morning.
I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Then made another suicide attempt in June 2020, and was introduced to a DBT course. My life has been CHANGED!
Meet the Newbie: Wrapping things up…
Hopefully, you can see the events that lead up to my diagnosis. It’s been a LONG and emotional drive to this moment, but I have been coping well and using my skills.
Most people know how much they can take, and individually many of these problems seem minuscule. But when they’re put together, they ADD UP.
In two weeks I will start teaching you about DBT, sharing a personal example or two, and helping you move forward. And so you’ve officially met the newbie For now, be easy on yourself.