You don’t understand

If I lacked enough self control, I would currently be screaming in a fit of rage and throwing and breaking anything I could get my hands on until there was nothing left in its original form in this place. Then I’d get in my car, and speed off somewhere until I found a good place to drive off the side of the road to end my story.

I am SO FUCKING TIRED OF BPD. I AM SO FUCKING TIRED OF FEELING THIS WAY. I AM SO FUCKING TIRED OF EVERYTHING BEING A FUCKING GOD DAMN TRIGGER. I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF PEOPLE NOT UNDERSTANDING WHAT I AM GOING THROUGH. I AM SO FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF FEELING LIKE A FUCKING BURDEN TO EVERYONE. I AM JUST SO FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF EVERYTHING.

I WANT TO DIE. RIGHT NOW. THIS MOMENT. I WANT TO DIE. I WILL WAIT UNTIL MY KIDS ARE GROWN AND OUT OF THE HOUSE AND THEN I’M DONE WITH THIS LIFE. IT’S NOT FOR ME. LIVING SUCKS. I CAN’T IMAGINE SPENDING AN ENTIRE LIFETIME GOING THROUGH THIS SHIT AND HAVING NOT A SINGLE PERSON TO BE HERE FOR ME. I DON’T FUCKING ASK FOR MUCH. HELL, I DON’T FUCKING ASK FOR ANYTHING AT ALL. TO AVOID BURDENING PEOPLE, I SIMPLY LET THEM KNOW I’M HAVING A ROUGH TIME AND THAT I WILL BE QUIET FOR A BIT. HEAVEN FORBID ANYONE FUCKING REACH OUT A BIT FURTHER TO SEE IF THERE’S ANYTHING THEY CAN DO OR TO LET ME KNOW THAT I WOULDN’T BE A BURDEN IF I NEEDED THEIR HELP OR PRESENCE.

FUCK PEOPLE. FUCK LOVE. PEOPLE ARE SO FULL OF SHIT. “LET ME ACT LIKE I LOVE YOU UNTIL ITS NOT FUN ANYMORE, THEN TO HELL WITH YOU”. WELL, TO HELL WITH YOU TOO. IM SO FUCKING DONE WITH PEOPLE. WITH THIS WORLD. WITH THIS FUCKING LIFE THAT I’M CERTAIN IS THE EPITOME OF HELL ON EARTH. I WISH I COULD JUST FUCKING DISAPPEAR. NO ONE WOULD NOTICE OR FUCKING CARE. THEY’VE ALREADY MADE THAT CLEAR.

I’M DONE.

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3 thoughts on “You don’t understand

  1. Hey there.
    I’ve spent the last seven years knowing why it is I’ve been spending so many more years walking on eggshells.
    After years of being treated for Depression and Anxiety, an insightful doctor finally had the experience, the knowledge and experience to refer to the DSM IV and read my wife a list of “symptoms” (I prefer “behaviors” ’cause that’s something we all have), and my wife was floored:
    “That fits me perfectly. That’s me.”
    What “that” turned out to be was BPD.
    Scared the shit out of her: “borderline”.
    What border?
    What was on the other side of that border?
    Exactly what did that mean?
    I tried to lead her to the understanding that it’s very much like a Chinese take-out menu:
    one behavior from Column A, three from Column B, two from Column C, et cetera.
    Out of a choice of God only knows how many recognizable behaviors, her specific buffet created the overloaded plate she was trying to balance on her head.
    It was uniquely hers.
    I have mine, she has hers, you have yours.

    I started blogging a couple of months ago about a few things, and Mental Illness is one of them It’s a subject that needs me to really think things through, to reflect upon and inspect. Don’t have many of them, but this is the post that sets the tone.
    Y’see, I don’t fight Depression or Anxiety or ADD – I embrace them. They are as much a part of me as my baby blues and my full head of to-die-for blonde hair.
    I don’t hide from or behind these diagnoses because they make me who I am, and who I am is at least much more in touch with myself than most of the agonizingly “normal” people I know.
    I have come to the realization that I will never control those beasts, all I can expect of myself is to manage them to the best of my abilities.
    I may even – and have even – taken full advantage of their strengths.
    More posts will follow as I fine tune them and re-write the gibberish that initially flows out of my wrists out on to the keyboard, so to speak.
    But this is a good start:

    http://nocturnaladmissions.net/the-cuckoos-nest/

    1. Hi. Thank you for your reply. I’ve really tried working on embracing it. However, when I’m in the midst of an episode, trying to embrace it is like trying to embrace your murderer who is holding a gun to your head and had already shot you numerous times but you just haven’t died out. I will check out your link. Ty again.

      1. Hi Mandi.
        From the sounds of it, you know when it’s hitting you the hardest. You recognize when you’re having an episode, when you’re “losing it”, when it’s taking you over.
        That’s doing quite a bit better than some people who are living with a disorder far less potentially destructive than BPD.
        A person can’t help what they think: that comes from the collective experiences they’ve had throughout life. You know the old saying about something which “can’t be unseen”. You can’t erase those memories, especially the ones you’re not thoroughly aware of, the ones that are either buried or hiding in the deepest crevices of the most uncharted cave known to man – the brain. Unconscious thoughts that stay deeply enough under the recognized thoughts that drive your life.
        Nor can a person help what they feel, which comes from the emotional reactions to all those thoughts and memories. I see a helium balloon on a string floating off into the clouds … I start to tear up. Not a full blown crying jag, but closer than I would think I should be. I became aware of the thoughts that make that happen, and it still happens, but I can feel more comfortable with it.
        You put those two together, and it comes down to something very simple:
        people can’t choose how they react to the world around them, either sitting next to them on the couch or over in Somalia somewhere.
        With time, with help and with reflection, though, they can have an amazing amount of influence on how they respond. Maybe they can actually choose how they respond.
        By “embracing” your illness, it keeps it close. And if it’s running away from you, or you are running away from it, there’s no way to get a handle on it.
        You can’t kick it in the balls if you’re not close enough to look it in the eye.
        It takes time.
        For my wife it took years, it took a doctor who finally got the picture. It took a change in meds, a change in the dosage of those meds, then another change in dosage, and the timing for those meds.
        Eventually it took ECT – Electro-Convulsive Therapy, “Shock” Treatments, but only after she had decided it was really worth the fight.
        Only after she determined exactly how it was she chose to respond.
        It’s been easier for me, largely because I haven’t been so consistently and relentlessly tortured by my particular demons.
        It’s worth the fight, and if you didn’t believe that to at least an encouraging degree …
        … you wouldn’t be here talking about it.
        You know you’re worth it.

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