Fun-house mirrors between hells

I think a lot of us have had this dream, or have at least heard of it and can understand what it would be like. That dream where you open your mouth and are trying to scream, but no sound is coming out. No one can hear you. You keep trying, but nothing.

That’s what it’s like having BPD. When its triggered and you start detaching and slipping away inside yourself. It’s like you’re being sucked back through a tunnel, away from everything. And every few feet that you are pulled back, a big wall slams down and barricades you further and further away from the external world. The walls, however, are like two way mirrors, minus the mirror. You can see out, but no one can see in. All they see is an image of you. On the outside, you just look like you. To a regular person (not a professional or someone educated and experienced with the symptom), you look normal; happy even. You’re pounding your fists on the walls, screaming, trying to get them to realize that they’re not really seeing you. They see a fake. They can’t hear you though, or see you on the other side of those walls. The walls then start to act like fun-house mirrors, except for making you see yourself in different ways, they skew the images of the people and world around you. They all start to look different…bad. They become enemies. People out to hurt you. You’re trapped inside of your internal hell and you want out, but you’re surrounded by people out to hurt you and so you can’t let them in either. Maybe you’re safer in your hell. Shit, you’re just not safe anywhere. And so you suffer silently from the world but inside the chaotic deafening sounds of your mind that no one else is aware exists.

You’ve gone away. You only want to be saved but you never are. Maybe because no one knows how or knows you need it, or maybe because you don’t know how to let someone save you. I’m not sure.

5 things. I need to remember the 5 things method. I’m not sure it will work outside of T’s office. I think T is safe. Who knows if it will work when I’m out here. Sometimes my internal hell feels safer than the external one I start to feel is surrounding me. And so this is where I am when I say I don’t feel safe: caught in or between two hells; one of which…or both of which…may or may not exist.

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