CW: mention of suicidal thoughts, depression, mental illness
This week has been hard. I won’t lie and say there haven’t been moments of light and clarity, but my mind has been clouded and foggy. My suicidal thoughts have been bad this week, worse than they’ve been in a long time. My therapist asked me if there was anything triggering my depression, and I honestly didn’t have an answer. My husband has been struggling, too, so she mentioned that his energy could be fueling my BPD. And while she’s not wrong, I think it’s something more. Something internal.
Living with Borderline Personality Disorder is challenging. Some of you may know the struggle, some of you may not. BPD isn’t like other mental illnesses. It is all-consuming. There isn’t a medication to treat it. Sure, there are some that help with the symptoms, just like all medications. But if I had to break down an itemized list of all the medicines I’ve tried, it would make this post twice the size. Even when I do take medications that kind of work, I get angry at them. I refuse to take them out of spite and then we’re back to square one. That’s the worst part of BPD, I think. The anger. The all-consuming rage I feel at the tiniest inconvenience. The rage that spirals me into a deep depression.
Why are you like this?
You’re a monster.
You should kill yourself and spare everyone the misfortune of your presence.
The last one isn’t the exact verbiage my brain uses to attack me, but I’m a little dramatic. More often than not, I think everyone would be better off without me.
“Everyone?” you ask. “Who does that include?”
I’ll answer with a shrug and a broad, vague gesture around me. If I name off people, you could find a reason they need me. I can’t wallow in my misery if you try to comfort me, tell me that there are people who want me around. When I am in that pit, I can’t believe you.
I started a Marketing class a few weeks ago, as you probably already know. It has been nearly impossible for me to get my assignments in on time. The last blog post I wrote was a week late. I’m currently working on an essay that’s a week late. In addition to really, really not wanting to do this class, I’ve been in a complete fog. I got my editorial letter back from my last professor a week or two ago and still haven’t touched my manuscript. I don’t even know where to begin, honestly. The beginning would probably be good, but I don’t have the energy to do my freakin’ homework. How am I supposed to write? I’ve got so much to do for FanFiAddict, but I’m beginning to feel like they don’t even like me anymore. I’m awkward and haven’t read half of what they have. Sometimes I wonder if I even belong.
I know I said before that I wouldn’t turn this blog into a diary, and that isn’t the intention behind this post. I have spent my collegiate career turning myself inward and reflecting on how I can share my story and encourage other writers who struggle with similar things as me. And while this post isn’t very encouraging, I still believe that some kind of message can be garnered here. As much as I want to give up, I can’t. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. I’ve been in college for seven (*cries*) years of my life to get where I am today. Now, the only thing keeping me going sometimes is my stubbornness. And you know what? That’s okay, and I have to remind myself every day that it is.
Whatever keeps YOU going (within reason, of course) is okay. Going at your own pace is okay, just like it is for me. Will I be published within the next year? Unlikely. But I won’t stop until I am because I believe in my story and, in some twisted way, myself. Despite everything that goes through my head on a daily basis, I know that there is a part of me that wants this more than anything. So, whatever it is for you, this post is to let you know that it’s okay. If no one else tells you that today, I will: it’s okay.
Keep living. Keep writing. Breathe.