Another morning. I wanted to deny it… Turn off the alarm on my phone, shut my eyes tight, and pull the blanket up to my chin. I wanted to rewind and rewind so I could sleep like forever. But the morning registered in my mind painfully, still numbly. I laid awake, slowly gaining awareness of the apartment. The wardrobes were all open; our clothes were flowing out from them and onto the floor. The carpet was so dirty that I could see dead curls of my hair gathered by the door. The smell from the kitchen bothered me, reminding me that I did not do the washing up in ages. The state of this place troubled me beyond measure, causing several sleepless nights, but every time I tried to tidy up I found the barriers of my physical strength knocking me back. By the time I tidied up a small part in the room the bathroom would be sticky with mess… and by the time I could finally do that little by little the room would go all messy again. Maybe I am losing strength and interest lately at a higher rate. – I thought. But I did not dwell on it much because my whole life seemed to be a slow-paced series of losing strength and interest. I saw her standing in the corner again. The ghostlike figure of a girl I kept seeing these past weeks. She nodded, smiled and disappeared. She is my only friend now. Silent for sure, but at least undemanding. Sometimes she is what you call scary if you are not me. When I am in a very low mood blood flows from her eyes. Well, I can’t find it scary. It’s like normal emotions have been blocked by the fog clouding my mind. I opened up a book and sat down to read a little. In two minutes I realized it was too much to ask from myself. I will probably never be able to read a book again. Just cannot concentrate long enough to understand a sentence. One hobby is clearly departing from my life forever; I have to make friends with that thought. It was time to get on the computer and look for work like I have been doing for the past few months. Nothing in this wretched town. Nothing I could do anyway. I chose the wrong education or had too little of it. I am looking for a cleaning job or something I can do mindlessly, because clearly my mind faces difficulties functioning. I turned off my monitor and laid back to bed facing the ceiling. I thought, what I cannot stop thinking, that maybe it is high time for signing off. I remembered having an mp3 player for years that slowly went wrong. At first the back cover loosened so I had to duct tape the thing together but it worked fine. After a while the player did not want to turn on. You had to press the button repeatedly and frantically to turn it on after 20 attempts… but then it worked. Then, after a short while every time I turned it on it only stayed on for minutes… then it lost power. In the end I had to press the button a 100 times but it refused to turn on. It was broken beyond repair, gone forever. I feel like my life came to the same point. The point where there is no reason to keep it running. Later that day I sat in the therapist’s office. I wondered if I should make it my last visit. What was the point anyway; I was a waste of her work hours throughout all these 3 years. Others would give like everything to have someone like her supporting them. But me? I started feeling even angry. Feeling like she keeps on lying to me. Telling me everyone can be healed. Lying to me that I don’t have depression like I suspect… it is “just” the borderline… that’s what’s causing me all this. Not like it mattered at this point. Or ever. Lately I started feeling therapy was like throwing a chicken off the 10th floor saying it will learn to fly on the way down because it has wings after all… and then… when it is dead on the ground standing above it and saying “it did not want it enough I guess”. Maybe I should just stop trying with those stupid, deformed wings and give her working hours to someone else who actually has the strength and potential to put in the needed effort. Because I have ran out of efforts. Have not talked to any of my friends in weeks either, hoping they would just forget I ever existed. No more efforts to put into anything. I feel like I have turned against the world. The night came and I found myself not keeping up with my tries to look out for cheerful things. I pulled up all the suicide songs I could from my music player and just let myself get lost in them. Someone made me think of hell lately… but I think even hell is better for me than this world. In hell everyone suffers… no one puts on the smiling face or expects you to do it. Maybe I should opt for hell?
Not saying everyone has the same symptoms, but I will post some e-cards borderlines will probably understand. The struggle behind these is real and unrelenting, but I also believe we have to learn to laugh at ourselves. So here goes:
Have you ever had one of those phases where you just want to be invisible while terribly afraid you will not be visible?
Or the feeling that although you have friends, you have to suffer in silence?
Or started doubting if they are your friends at all?
Or have you consciously taught yourself not to go with the spikes of idealization when you meet someone new because they were gonna hurt you or leave at one point anyway?
Or have you ever had to convince yourself that you are actually you, alive, breathing and feeling? That you are not in a dream?
If you’re like me, you probably have suicidal thoughts and feelings every day… And maybe you do the same as I do and binge eat sweets.
Have you ever refrained from a dinner at someone’s house in the last moment because you did not feel ready to meet people and act normal or you felt you’d be a burden and the invitation was just a formality?
Maybe it has taken a toll on your relationships 😦
It is one of the saddest things to have to listen to an advice from someone who does not understand what’s going on…
Sometimes I feel like my therapist has known it for long that I cannot be saved or helped but she will not admit because how would that look.
Sometimes I see my disorder in everything.
I hoped you enjoyed these cards, and maybe now you can make some of your own and share it with me. 🙂 Also, I think you are awesome, you kick ass and just keep trying! That’s what I’m doing.
When I got my borderline diagnosis I was almost even relieved. Relieved that I am not alone, that my condition and dissociative experiences actually have a name. That there were others who self-harmed. Others who have felt suicidal for most of their lives. That I wasn’t just a standalone individual who was affected by an unrelenting curse others seemed to have evaded. Every question I ever had about myself seemed to be answered as the pieces of the invisible puzzle were finally grafted together. But it turned out this diagnosis will hurt me more than it helps me. It did not take long to take notice of how people treat borderlines. I remember reading a website that told you to run if your significant other turns out to be borderline, Christian pages that insisted borderlines are destined to hell by nature… and most sadly ”professional” articles that made us all look like attention-seeking, manipulative, promiscuous, unbearable drama-queens who do not deserve to be cared for by mental health professionals. The media did not help us much either. Almost every film depicting borderline employs unlikeable characters, who pose an immediate threat to everything they touch. At first, I wanted to write about how I don’t fulfil the stereotypes, but then I thought of something different. The story I want to share is how it feels to be stigmatized. How it feels to never be taken seriously even when you get to the verge of suicide.
It feels like being buried alive. Just imagine it. You wake up in the darkness. At first, you are just confused. You don’t know where you are, how you got there and how you will get out. Then you tap the four walls of the coffin and slowly realize you’ve been buried alive. Suddenly the air runs out. Not because all air is gone but due to the panic that chills your bones in an instance. You scream with your heart in your neck for hours but then you have to make the terrible realization that no one is going to hear you. You are just buried too deep. You don’t know if it is night or day outside but inside it makes no difference anymore. You start scratching the lid of the coffin as if to claw your way out. It takes immense effort. Meanwhile the thoughts just race through your head. Thoughts like ”Has no one seen I am still breathing?” or ”I have to die now just because people thought I was dead”. In the end your strength leaves you and you just don’t fight anymore. Years later they exhume you… just to find the marks of your nails on the lid. Then come the ”should have-s” and the ”could have-s” but that does not save you now does it.
It feels like becoming a ghost. The people shift by you, step through you… talking about wishing you were there. Wishing you were something else. Visibly present. They reminisce on how different you were before. So full of life. So pleasant for the eye. They wish they could get through to you but in reality it is you who cannot get through to them. You wave, scream, shake your head frantically… Try to tell them you are still there. In vain. You are no longer one of them. They can no longer accept you.
The only difference is… when you are a ghost no one blames you for becoming one. When you are a borderline you have to face such a vast amount of shaming. Blame. Suddenly everything you say is a lie and everyone who encounters you should just run for it. Suddenly your condition is your fault, and you just don’t get better because you are not trying hard enough. Even today these sentences make me want to crawl into a hole and hide. But I will not hide. I will no longer succumb to silence.
Because maybe you have the same experiences, which is why I want to leave you with some good thoughts. You are not a monster. You are worth caring for. You are lovable, and I wish you would join me in standing up against the stigma in any way you can.