The past 24 hours have been... immeasurably difficult. Last night, I had a panic attack after having some very uncomfortable and never-before-felt chest pain out of absolutely fucking nowhere. I took my blood pressure and the measurement was the highest it's ever been - like, cardiac event high. This, unsurprisingly, scared the shit out of … Continue reading Barely Holding It Together
Happy (?) Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) Awareness Month, gang! Did you know it's also my birth month? Because of course these things are within the same month c;I had begun to write a nice little "what BPD looks like" post to give you guys some behaviors, thought processes, and tendencies to look out for - … Continue reading Buddhism vs. Borderline Personality Disorder
You know how people say things like, “Being The One is like being in love - you just know. Balls to bones.”
Okay, maybe the only time anyone said that was in The Matrix (or quoting The Matrix), but you get my point. Some things, you just know. And whereas the other day I was in a state of limbo re: do I really want to live or not? I’ve come to a conclusion. For now, anyway.
Yes, yes I do.
And perhaps in perfect opposite style of my last post, the way I came to this was thanks to a little help from my friends. I had thought that I had to make myself an island but my post, my video, was my one last flare being sent up, saying, “Please help me!” I didn’t expect a rescue effort. I assumed everyone was used to and sick of my shit - assuming they saw it at all. Truth be told, only one person reached out to me. But that one person was all it took.
Right now, I’m standing in the middle of an abandoned highway. The headlights on the horizon are unmistakable - my depression, barreling towards me at a blinding 100 mph. On the other side, a pair of tail lights are all that’s left of my anxiety, retreating into the darkness. I’m clutching a prescription for Ativan and discharge papers that say the same shit as every other time I’ve made my husband sit in a sterile room into the wee hours of the night with me - “ANXIETY DISORDER UNSPECIFIED”.
Over the course of my life, I’ve had four therapists. Two not so great, two pretty solid ones that helped me learn to take different streets. The first great one was in junior high - and while I was still a BIG OL’ MESS after I stopped seeing her, she was the one who first taught me how to take responsibility for my part in my problems and stop playing the victim. The second great one was around age 22 - his downfall is he ended up NOT accepting me as the victim when I told him about how I was raped but he is the one who gave me my Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) diagnosis and a really solid understanding of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy tools.
I had an exchange with my friend the other day that revealed to me how much I had grown. In life, in the past year, in general. I told them that I went to Goodwill to cheer myself up because I was depressed; then I admitted that I had driven around old locations in town that reminded me of people no longer in my life while listening to sad music so the only person to blame for my mood was me. As such, I concluded, it was entirely my responsibility to proactively pull myself out of that mindset and do something to make myself feel better.
TW: Suicide, Self harm
Someone told me once, “You taught me to love suicide.”
They went on to clarify that my intense suicidal idealization as a teenager exposed them to the fragility of life and how to face the thought of death without turning away or pretending it didn’t exist. This was a wildly profound thing to be told and obviously it stuck with me.