Ok so you know that iconic scene from Girl, Interrupted? No? Here.
Exactly. Borderline between what and what?
May is BPD Awareness Month and in honor of BPD Awareness Month, I have vowed to become an advocate for those who are too afraid to speak up because of stigma and educate those who don’t know much about this disorder.
To put it simply, in my brain gray does not exist. It’s either black or white. Love or hate. Best day ever or worst day ever. High or low. All or nothing. It’s exhausting. My coworkers have joked with me “isn’t it exhausting to be so pessimistic all the time?” Yes. Yes it is. Sometimes I need to sleep for three days straight to recover from that one day I feel on top of the world. Some days I have more confidence than Kanye West (is that even possible?) and some days I feel like I don’t deserve the air I need to breathe. The scariest part is there is rarely ever an in between…
Ever wonder why I don’t talk to anyone I did a few years ago? I hurt people before they have the chance to hurt me. When I leave, I burn the bridges they’d need to cross to find me again. I don’t drop seeds. I’m very temporary. One day I am a musician and the next I’m going back to school to become a doctor. I have zero concept of who I am and it is exhausting to constantly be searching for more when you have no idea where to look because you’ve looked everywhere and found nothing. It seems impossible to think that I have held on to blogging for 9 months! Like, thats enough time to have a baby! I’ve never held onto anything that long. I’ll wake up at 3 am and write the first 70 pages of a book that I shred at 10 am because I’d much rather start my journey to becoming a marathon runner just to throw that dream down the drain in 2 days. I look back at old photos and don’t even remember that time in my life and expressing myself is the most challenging thing I’ve ever encountered. God forbid I answer a question wrong and I suddenly I have a black eye that I gave myself because I don’t deserve to be wrong without being punished.
No freaking wonder there is such a stigma around BPD. No wonder doctors don’t want us. Potential friends don’t want us. For some people, employers and lovers are hard to come by. Lucky for me, I have managed to hold onto at least those two things. But I promise, it’s not my goal to make you hate me. It’s just the opposite. I just want to know that I mean something to you and I want to make you happy or else I am not worthy of existing.
I just wish people understood that I can’t flip a switch to turn it off…
I’m shaking at the thought of publishing this because this is a part of my life I don’t let people in on and have a hard time owning up to. But I owe it to everyone who feels like they can’t be honest about the way their brain works because of the horrible stigma around BPD. We’ve got this, loves.