What's worse than feeling all the things too much? Feeling nothing.
My colleagues invite me to lunch, or to go for a walk, but I decline. This little quiet corner of the office is just fine with me. My partner has been doing the shopping. I'm overwhelmed in public spaces.
The first few years, I convinced myself that I had somehow become the nightmare momster that many children of a parent with BPD have written about escaping.
It's no surprise I sometimes don't recognize myself in mirrors. I'm trying to focus on sharing my story, but I'm dissociating and having a hard time remembering those people inside.
I managed to find a partner willing to put up with my split-second mood swings, who loved my highs and endured my lows. I filed away my BPD diagnosis and didn’t think much about it again for years.
I know it's my disorder saying “no one really likes you” but it's hard to argue with that inner voice when you spend much of your non-working, non-sleeping hours alone, despite reaching out for companionship.
I left my comfort zone to try and be more social. It was a catastrophe.
The worst part is when I don't recognize my own words, or don't recall typing them out or writing them down. At all.
Please note that every single person with BPD has most but perhaps not all symptoms, and each individual's capacity to cope with these differs.
Suicide is not about wanting to die. It is about escaping unimaginable pain. If you think suicide is selfish, you're not going to have a good time here, on my blog.