Suicide is selfish. I’ve been on both sides, and this is the one thing I still hold true.
I’ve been on the other end of the phone calls, the ones where I was told a person had tried to commit suicide. I remember that feeling so well that it haunts me.
I’ve also been the one that phones calls were about. I’ve attempted suicide 3 times in my life. I’ve been in the E.R. 3 times before of those attempts. I’ve scared the hell out of my loved ones.
Why? To be perfectly honest, I was being selfish. It’s a state of mind you go into where you don’t think about anything besides the fact that you want to end everything all at once. You don’t think about your loved ones and how it will hurt them. You think about how you can end it all, and your suffering will be over.
Suicide is a dark place in one’s mind where nothing matters except being free from the pain.
I’m glad that I wasn’t successful in my attempts. I’m glad that I have survived, and fought every day to not go back to that place.
I’m an adult who sleeps with a stuffed animal. I know it may seem childish, but Geoffrey the giraffe has been like a security blanket for me for many years. He is a part of home that helps keep me from having a panic attack.
I should explain that when my father died, I developed an irrational fear that if I was away from my mother, she’d pass away just as suddenly as my father had. I had full blown panic attacks when I spent the night too far away from her. When she got me Geoffrey though, the panic attacks started to slowly come to a stop. I knew she was always with me.
So yes, I’m a 21 year old that sleeps with a giant stuffed giraffe, but maybe being a little childish is worth keeping me sane.
In 21 years I’ve had many beliefs. I believed I would grow up to be a mermaid (still waiting on that), I believed my parents were invincible, I believed that by crying over my father’s death I would disappoint him, I’ve believed that everything happens for a reason, and I’ve believed that there are no reasons in life. I believe that my life will continue to change, and that my beliefs will follow suit.
Most importantly, I believe that no matter how difficult my disorder makes my life, I will continue to fight.
I’ve been in that frame of mind where suicide seems like the only answer, and I’m thankful every day that my attempts weren’t successful. I don’t believe that ending my life would be an answer anymore.
I believe in my strength, I believe in my fight.
I used to try to hide the fact that I have a mood disorder. The reason behind this is because one time I told a friend about my mood disorder, and he responded with “Ew mental illness is disgusting!!”
I’ve always been puzzled by that frame of mind. I didn’t choose to have BPD, so why should I have to hide it? Why should I struggle every second of every day to hide it? No wonder why I’m always exhausted.
I get depressed, I get angry, I black out, I’m impulsive, I’m always paranoid, and my anxiety is always getting the best of me. I do and say impulsive things, I can emotionally detach from someone with ease, but at the same time still want to be loved. When something happens my brain automatically labels it as “good” or “bad”, and then either the “good half” of my mind responds or the “bad half” responds.
By explaining my disorder maybe someone, somewhere will realize that mental health issues aren’t disgusting. If not, well maybe this will freak them out. Either way it’s a win.
A main side effect of BPD is impulsive behavior. When you walk into a store to get a pair of jeans and walk out with 10 sweaters, 6 skirts, 52 scarves, and 300 pairs of shoes, you start to think you might have a slight shopping addiction.
All joking aside, my shopping addiction and impulsive behavior have caused a lot of trouble in my life. Everyone tries to tell me to just not shop. Alright, if that works then why don’t we tell the alcoholics to just not drink? Maybe it has to do with the fact that just telling someone that doesn’t do anything to help them.
I am thankful that out of all of the impulsive and addictive behaviors that I could be dealing with, shopping isn’t too bad.
Sometimes a shopping cart is just full of shit, sometimes it’s a coping mechanism. Mostly it’s both.
Having traces of OCD and traces of ADHD in your disorder sounds better than having the full blown disorders. The key word there is “sounds”.
Sometimes they come out of nowhere, and all of the sudden I’m hyperventilating because my bracelet isn’t color coded. Half of my brain is saying “calm down, it’s not a big deal”, the other half is telling me to flip out and go overboard. Needless to say, that half of my brain will always win over the rational side.
When my ADHD comes out, you can tell. I’m jumping from topic to topic, I’m starting a new project in the middle of the project I was working on. Basically just say “squirrel”.
To be completely honest, it sucks when either disorder comes out, but the worst is when they both combine and I’m left trying to do a seven different projects perfectly.
I guess it’s not the worst, but you can’t always spend time chasing squirrels.
On your left shoulder sits the devil, constantly telling you that all of those bad thoughts are okay. On your right shoulder sits the angel, constantly trying to keep you from giving into the devil, and keep you on the right path.
Living with Borderline Personality Disorder is exactly like that, except the devil and angel aren’t on opposite shoulders, they’re the two halves of my brain. I’m constantly fighting with myself, and struggling to cover up what’s going on in my own mind.
I’m no longer going to cover it up, I started this blog to help erase the stigma of mental illness by being fully open about my own. I hope that this blog can open eyes, and help those living with any mental illness.