This blog series will document my struggles with borderline personality disorder, among other mental health issues, as I start a new therapy style that's been shown to help significantly (dialectical behavioral therapy). I said that I would be leaving this site a while back in the midst of a particularly nasty BPD episode and felt too awkward to return for a while.
Anyway, on to the content (graphic suicide is discussed, so content warning for that):
A typical BPD episode for me looks like this. Sometimes, it's over quickly. Sometimes, it lasts for weeks.
"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"
"Not that good."
Not that good? What's wrong with them? Did something happen? Did I... did I do something wrong? I must have done something wrong. Why else would they be upset? Quickly, quickly, what did I do today? What did I say today? Or was it yesterday? Think, Kasio, think. If you don't resolve this, you're going to lose them. Wouldn't be the first time you lost someone.
Wait, what am I thinking? Surely there's something else happening with them. Maybe stress at work? Maybe someone else said something that upset them? Yeah, that's probably it.
But what if it isn't? What if it actually was my fault? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
I can just ask them if it involved me.
But what if it goes wrong and upsets them? What if they're sick of me making it about myself? Just back away from them and let it resolve itself.
But if it's my fault, then what? I can't bear to lose them. How do I fix this? What if... what if I can't fix this? What if this is the straw that breaks the camel's back? Oh shit... it is, isn't it. It's finally happening. They're going to leave me. I just know it. They're tired of dealing with me and my stupid fucking BPD.
What's the point of even being romantically involved with anyone? Or even being friends with anyone? Why am I like this? What the fuck kind of trauma did I go through as a kid to have this hell on earth be my every waking moment? Was I just born this fucked up? Why... why... why do I even bother? It's the same shit every fucking day.
"Aren't you tired of the pain, Kasio? Aren't you tired of dealing with this?
Those pills on the nightstand look awfully tempting, Kasio.
Just take them.
You know you want to.
Don't want to choke to death, now do we? If you're going to die, at least let it be relatively painless.
Or should it be painful? After all, you do deserve pain for subjecting the people in your life to your unstable mental health. Your family. Your friends. Your co-workers. You partners. Think about what you've put them through. If you were more stable, who knows how great your life would be?
But you're not.
Now, those pills. Do something right for once in your life and stop hurting those around you."
Well, if I am going to die, then I should at least find out what caused their pain.
"Are you upset because of something I did?"
"What? No. It was just a shitty day at work."
Huh. What do you know. Guess I bought myself some time on this planet, at least until this happens again.