Living with BPD is like having knives constantly stabbing and twisting in your head.
It's excruciatingly contradictory. A friend becomes an enemy. The one person you desperately want to talk to, you can't bear to be around. You're terrified of being abandoned and yet crave time alone. You either manage exceptionally, or you crumble into a million pieces. There are extreme highs, and unbelievable lows. Everything is sharper, more intense, raw. There is only black&white, there is no escape, only a terrible and overwhelming loneliness. And yet most of the time, we smile and tell the world we're okay. In some ways we are okay. We're strong, we're survivors. In others we need more understanding and compassion than we ask for because we don't think we deserve it. We're our own worst enemies, we turn our hurt and anger inwards and target ourselves. We want to believe in people, we want to trust them but for one reason or another we can't. Please be patient with us. One thing I can guarantee is we're trying. We're trying so damn hard to be better.
Also, many people joke about 'the voices in their head' and seeing things but it's not funny. I don't talk about it often, but for me it's a way of life. I'd give anything to hear silence just once, to be able to trust my senses. I'm never alone, I'm never free, I have to work overtime to rummage through what I'm hearing and seeing to make sense of it. I often get headaches or worse, migraines, because whilst I'm battling the effects of anxiety, depression, PTSD and BPD, I'm also constantly filtering out background noise. I'm watching other people react so that when I see things; sometimes horrible, shocking things, I can judge how to react myself. (Example: in Canterbury town see a girl get run down by a car. I gasp- nobody else bats an eye, the car continues at the same pace- no body on the ground. It wasn't real. I sip my tea awkwardly.) It isn't fun to have a running commentary of your day, every day. It isn't fun hearing screaming, yelling, or voices telling you that you should be dead. It isn't fun seeing your bathwater turn to blood, or never really knowing if anything is real. Often asking 'did you hear that?' because you want confirmation whether your brain is playing tricks on you. It's not cute to be ill, it's not fun to have your own mind terrorise you, please don't joke about it.
Having someone in your corner is so important. It doesn't require much- sometimes just knowing someone is there and willing to listen is enough to prevent the isolation and loneliness mental illness can bring. It's not only asking how things are, but asking 'how are you' , and waiting for an honest answer. It's giving space when needed and also breaking isolation by providing a consistent presence we can rely on. Many of us have had experiences that have made trust difficult and we need to know we can depend on you and that you won't abandon us.
Sometimes, I feel like the colour has drained from the world. I know now that it's only temporary, and I've learned to seek out the beauty in the grey. Tonight, it's a little harsh. Tomorrow, it's a blank canvas to paint.❤
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