I have been stuck on a topic for my blog this week. I was wondering if you guys have anything you want me to write about concerning my struggles w/ BPD and mental illness? I’d also be open to questions and the like. Feel free to email them to me if you’d rather at: itisknown@hotmail.com

I promised this entry to one of the people I love the most. It’s late in coming, but I wasn’t yet ready to speak. My life has been riddled with uncertainties. At least, it has been for so very long now that it’s as if it has always been this way. But right now the past isn’t what is on my mind. I am so weary of uncertainty and instability… yet it seems that is all I am capable of. Right now, I feel like… the marble stuck in a pinball machine. Bouncing from place to place, resting in a divet from time to time… and when I just get comfortable and feel safe… something outside of my control hits me and I go bouncing again and again… and again.

Every single time I think I’ve done something to fix my life, to make things better for myself… something happens to knock me back down. Yesterday I got my money… and I bought my TESOL courses that I’ve wanted for nearly 10 years. All I have ever wanted in life is to travel and to make a difference… and being certified to teach ESL anywhere in the world… oh that just… I want it so badly. So very very badly. And I know that I can DO this. But… even with that eventual accomplishment… I still need a home, a job… I need to be able to stand on my own and I have never ever done that. It terrifies me and I am so very very VERY frightened… especially because… I can’t even figure out how to do this at this stage of my life. I may be 28, but I feel so little. I feel like a scared child most of the time and being faced with the reality that I have no home to go to, no safe place to live so that I can find a job and get my life on track… is tearing me apart.

I may whine a lot on facebook, or to my friends, but I don’t tell them half of what goes on inside my mind, I don’t tell them a third of how I feel because they don’t understand… and I have fucked up and manipulated (mostly accidentally) and unintentionally used people for so fucking long that… I just don’t want to bring anything else down on them. I don’t like it that people literally get exhausted by having me around. I don’t like that I hurt people. It hurts ME so much to know what I’ve done in the past and that, even when I think I’ve stopped, I’m still doing the same shit… just in new ways so that I can’t see what it is I am doing.

And because of that… most of the people I love can’t be there for me in the ways that I feel that I need SOMEONE to be. My mother refuses to let me live with her because we fight so much. She’d rather see me going to the YWCA… and as much as I try to understand that she’s doing what she feels is best for me… all I see, all I hear, is “I don’t want you.” And that’s not fair, but Gods… I have so much pain in me from my Mother and my family and the years of my illnesses brainwashing me, coupled with things we both have done… that I still can’t let it go no matter how much I try.

I just… I am fighting so many things and holding on so tightly to what little I have left that it’s making me sick, and it’s hurting me. I fight myself every day to not take any blade I can find to my skin… or a cigarette… or hold my hand over the flame in a lighter. Because at least I control that pain and I can make it hurt so much it makes the hurt inside me go away just for a little bit… but that FREEDOM, however fleeting, is absolutely wonderful. The only reason I haven’t done it since August is because I swore an oath to the Gods that if I did I wouldn’t be able to go to Europe for 13 years and Europe is everything to me, it always has been. Sometimes I don’t think I love anything as much as I love Europe… and that hurts me too.
I don’t feel things the way normal people do. It’s all in extremes or it’s nothing. I’m either EXTREMELEY happy or I’m severely sad… all I get in the middle is anxiety and sometimes frustration. I am very rarely content… and I can’t be on my own. Even if I am alone in the house I’m talking to people on the phone or online. I don’t know how to just be with myself. I don’t WANT to be alone with myself. That is exactly why this blog is so fucking HARD. I don’t want to look at myself. I don’t want to know the bad things, the sick things, the things that ensure that I hate myself far more than I love myself… and I don’t love myself at all.
I don’t think I ever have.

But I crave love from everyone else. I strive for it. I live to make others happy and to hell with what makes me happy because I am a selfish, narcissitic, person at times and I am so afraid that if I stop putting other people first that the ugliness inside of me will just get worse. I want to be a good person so badly. I want people to want to see me, talk to me, know me, love me… but NOT because I feel I need it… I want it because they feel I deserve it… I want to earn it. I don’t like making people pity me. Pitying me may seem like caring but it’s not and the people that pity me never stay. I want to STAY. I run from everything. Always running… running… running. I want to be able to be somewhere and be okay with just being there without wanting to run to somewhere else that seems better at the time.

But how can I do that when I can’t even find a home? I need help and I don’t even know what for anymore. Everything in my life is built on toothpicks and the structure is about to fall on top of me again, I can feel it with every passing day. But I don’t know what to do anymore, or where to go, or who to go to. I can’t cope with this much longer. It’s getting so much more tempting to just… give in. And I know I shouldn’t. I know everyone tells me to be positive and that I am stronger than this… but there’s only so much I can do. So much I can take.

And I can’t ask anyone to let me stay with them when I am like this. I don’t want to bring this into anyone’s home. I don’t want to ruin anymore relationships with people, or to hurt anybody else. But I don’t know how to stop the hurting inside of me, or the fear… and I am just…

I’m scared of everything. I cocoon myself in what little sense of safety I have and I run away to fantasy worlds online, to relationships online that I only have to give as much or as little as I want and it’s never the full picture because I tell myself that I -know- that if anyone knew everything that went on inside my head… that I’d have nobody left. But the sad thing is… I’m ruining my friendships and stuff anyways no matter what I do.

I WANT to be better. I want to be able to be healthy and happy… oh Gods I want to be happy… really happy… with myself. I want to LOVE myself. But I just… I don’t know how. I can’t even worry about that right now because I need to find a place to live. I won’t survive a homeless shelter. I’ve been there before and it was so bad that I’ll do whatever I have to not to go back… no matter how bad the situation is for me. Because what little strength I have left will die if I’m out on the streets again. The first two times traumatised me way too much for that… and it’s NOT safe, regardless.

I will never be able to get better until I am somewhere safe and stable… but I can’t afford it. And I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m sorry that this doesn’t have a positive ending. I don’t really have anything I can say… that I would feel to be true right now.

I am many things. Some things are wonderful, some… need a bit of work. But they ALL make me the person that I am. Certainly, I can change the things that I want to change and through those changes I will grow… but it’s not easy and for me, somehow, it’s always been more difficult than it seems it is for others in my life. After a life time of instability, of bad decisions that put me in volatile situations, it took until the age of 26 to discover why I always ended up in the same (miserable) place. In 2011 I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and a myriad of other mental illnesses that more or less stem from the BPD as a whole. 

For anyone who doesn’t know what BPD is; the National Library of Medicine defines it as follows: Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a mental health condition in which a person has long-term patterns of unstable or turbulent emotions. These inner experiences often result in impulsive actions and chaotic relationships with other people

It took 3 psychiatrists and, you know, my entire life to figure this out. Once the diagnosis came, everything in my past seemed to make sense. It’s a long road of therapy… I have to learn how to change my thought processes and to re-evaluate my feelings BEFORE I act upon them… which, seems  virtually impossible. But, as with so many things I am the only one who can change. But, how does one do that when at the slightest suggestion of hardship she gets so overwhelmed that her first instincts are to run away or shut down? My favourite show is Doctor Who (for so many reasons), and I think one of the reasons is that I can relate to the character of the Doctor in so many ways. After all, he’s the one who’s said: “I’ve been running all my life.” It’s true, really. I have been running. In the past 10 years I’ve run from one unstable situation to the next. I’ve run from Ohio to Austria, back to Ohio, to England, to California, Ohio, California, Michigan, Ohio… it goes on and on. I crave new and fresh starts when my life crumbles around me. Every single time my life falls down around me I realise that I’ve lost sight of who I was and the travel, the escape, makes me feel alive and like myself again. 

But I’m finally tired of running. Because… now I understand why I do the things that I do. Why I crave what I do, and why it needs stop. I have hurt myself way too many times and, what is worse, I have hurt and used way too many people. I am not a bad person, but I realise that I’ve let myself do bad things… just to survive or to make myself feel better. And I don’t want to be that person anymore. In fact, I refuse

Of course, that’s all well in good… but let’s factor in the negative thoughts that try to tell me what to do, add in the fact that I can’t seem to handle the pressures of a real job and am so poor I can’t afford to buy my own toilet paper… oh, and there’s the fact that I have absolutely no sense of self-discipline or will power… and, finally, bundle that in with the fact that I never know what I want in life and sprinkle on a good helping of BPD and anxiety disorder… and you can see why I’m writing a blog rather than do my homework for the University of Phoenix (which is my latest attempt at change… which is currently failing spectacularly). OH and did I mention an internet addiction and a need to throw myself into online role playing and video games to supplement for real life relationships and social interaction? Have I mentioned the wonky agoraphobia and anxiety-driven laziness?

You can see by now that I have quite a number of things to overcome to get the things I -do- know that I want out of my life. I want to be able to live successfully on my own for the first time in my life. I want to make a difference in the world. I want to make a difference in the lives of the people I love and help the causes that I feel strongly for. I want to travel and experience new things… and I want to be creative. But, mostly, I want to love myself and be PROUD of myself. I want to be known as the good and loving person that I know I am. 

And wanting all of that, on top of coping and dealing with the negative aspects of myself is making it a long, arduous, and trying road. I feel alone most of the time, because honestly for all a person can sympathise… if you don’t go through this on a constant basis, you can’t truly grasp how hard it is. I have been physically hurting myself as a coping mechanism for half of my life. I have tried to kill myself twice when things got to be ‘too much’ for me to want to deal with. I have put myself through sooo much shit in my life… that it genuinely surprises people that I am as well put-together as I come off.  But the truth is, I’m not okay and I am once again heading towards another fuck-up of global proportions. The only thing that has kept me out of another visit to the mental hospital is sheer strength. I haven’t cut or burned myself since August. I finally have a good support system… friends… and a strong and healing home away from home that I can go that is a sanctuary for hundreds of wonderful people. It has helped… but there’s only so much other people can do. 

I am, at the end of the day, the ONLY person who can do this. I know that I will never be one of those polished bloggers who sound like they have a doctorate in communications, english, or journalism. But I also know that I want this blog to document my achievements, failures, and general struggle with dealing with BPD. To polish away the raw emotions will only give me more of an opportunity to edit the truth. And I -NEED- this to be raw and honest. I want others to know they aren’t alone… and I want to be able to look back and be faced with my accomplishments and my setbacks so that I can learn from them.

If anyone reads this, that’s great. But it isn’t necessary. Sometimes… I just need to talk to myself.