Some days I wake up to a familiar weight on my bed next to me, yet when I turn to snuggle my lover in those first blissful comfy moments of being awake, instead I only find my limbs tangled in the weight of my mental illness. For no reason at all or perhaps every reason imaginable, I know it's going to be a rough one. It's likely I will cry for the next several hours, or maybe become manically hyper and goofy. You know, two equal and normal reactions to feeling sad. This is a part of me that I keep quiet about, I'm terrified that if I tell my friends about my mental illness that they will view me differently. I'm certain that they will in fact view me as unstable and toxic if I say "I have a Borderline Personality Disorder".
Phew, it felt good to tell you that! Having BPD is sudden feelings of emptiness, and incredible moments of joy that permeate ordinary situations. It can manifest as a grumpy Amy who needs a pot of coffee and silence to ready myself to human, or terrible panic attacks that leave my heart beating in my throat. Sometimes for whole days no one can convince me that there is any reason we are alive, because everything is cold and sterile. We are a speck in existence, and I am already gone. Unfortunately, knowing how dramatic and ridiculous I am being is just another layer in the muck- I unwillingly shift to a 3rd person view of my life, and watch on helplessly. On particularly hard days, I am invited to an assembly where every chemical has gathered in my brain to tell me that no one loves me, because I am unlovable. Other days, the sight of my boyfriend moves me to song, and I will serenade that beautiful bastard no matter how many witnesses are present. At times my illness is the color in my life, and everything else is actually the hard part.
As a teen I cycled through so many emotions in a day, that everything above could enter my mind and leave without a trace in a matter of hours. I fell in love sometimes several times a week, always with the full gusto of teenage angst. The days that I did not lash out either at myself or others, were few and far between. It is common in BPD to feel nothing, to be detached and uninvolved in your own life. This feeling can escalate into full dissociation, often to escape the stress of the other beasts BPD summons. Uncertain sense of self, intense anger or anxiety that is hard to manage, a strong impulse to sabotage your wellbeing, and sometimes all an all out path of self destruction. Statistically 70% percent of those with BPD will attempt suicide, and 8-10% will complete suicide, which is 50x the suicide rate of the general population. Self harm is extremely common in BPD, as most of us direct our anger at ourselves. When BPD first entered the psychology world it was considered a type of schizophrenia, and it's common treatment was shock therapy or life in an asylum. Since then Psychology has changed a lot, but BPD has remained a sentence- often leading to people being deemed unfit parents and in extreme cases even committed. However in the last decade the diagnoses has softened a great deal, with most experts saying it is entirely possible for someone to grow out of these criteria in a number of years. This has not been the case for me, it is my ability to deal with this disorder that has changed.
I'm 26 now, and the last time I told a friend that I have BPD they laughed at me. When I said no really I've struggled with it my whole life, they went on one of those rants you can't brake into- too many lightly diagnosed mental illnesses ect. This didn't bother me in the slightest, I was elated actually. I meet all nine criteria, and someone was telling me that the idea of me having such a debilitating disorder was outrageous. Clearly I was doing good at faking it, and maybe even making it!
My journey to a happier life started with a desire to stop terrorizing people, and grew in finding ways to counteract my emotions. I learned to breathe and ground myself when I started to get upset, and to walk away when I knew I was losing this fight. This was the first and hardest part, learning to listen to and face my feelings without letting them dictate reality. My mantra for a time was "What I feel is not who I am". I attempted meditation and yoga, but failed at committing myself to them. However I did learn a lot from their schools of thought, and being present began to be enough for me to hold myself accountable. Most people will find a way to look on their character flaws from a more positive perspective, for me it felt like I was talking about someone else when I addressed my flaws. That is why it was so important for me to listen to my feelings, and give them space to carry out in my mind. Most of the damage I've suffered has been at my own hands, and facing the parts of me that perpetuate this behavior was cathartic and vindicating. I had made really bad choices, I hurt other people and I was completely unreliable due to the war I was waging on myself, yet here I was rehashing it. The best way to move forward was to acknowledge my actions and forgive myself, which opened the door to healing. I had spent so much time in High School desperately wishing for deep friendship or romantic love- why I hadn't I recognized the value of loving myself?
When I say that mental illness is a gift, I mean it. Underneath the pain I've sorted through in the last decade, I've found empowerment. Like cleaning out a house you've always occupied before moving out, small forgotten treasures surface in the most unexpected places. My sense of humor is rooted deeply in my discomfort, and I don't think I'm alone in feeling this way. A melancholy outlook can be the perfect company, inspiring me to squeeze out every drop of it into art. Gut twisting awareness came from my illness over the years, I became less self interested as I found the source of my drama in it. When I no longer needed to be apathetic defensively, what I was left with was peace. I'm not saying I don't suffer from BPD these days, I've just chosen to rework it's duality into something that benefits my life. I honestly would not vanquish BPD if I could, because to do so would be to change who I am.
Thanks for reading, and being part of a community that I can be honest with (It was only a bit scary to write this)! Most people are struggling with mental illness, or love someone who is. This can be lonely because of the stigma surrounding chemical imbalances, so if you are feeling alone- please know you are not :) Here I type, sitting with you.