The Grips of Depression and the Darkness of Borderline Personality Disorder

https://goo.gl/fFfdMz

We shouldn’t wait until mental health awareness month to talk about these issues. I wanted to share my story because I grew up in a place where talking about mental health was unheard of. In the past year I’ve been struggling to find something to explain my feelings and my days to people that want to love me despite this disease. Every story I’ve read isn’t exactly like mine and if more people were open about it, maybe I could have found something that helped me communicate or made me feel like less of an outsider. By writing this, maybe I can help someone else. The description below is probably a mix of all my mental health struggles: borderline personality disorder, depression, and OCD.

Every minute of my day is an effort. From the minute I wake up I have to convince myself that putting my feet on the ground is worth it, that I’ll be able to find something in this day that will reassure me that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing: existing, living where I live, working where I work, filling my time with what I choose to. Every move I make is a conscious decision and nothing feels normal or like a routine and all I want is that normalcy and the feeling that I know what’s going to happen next.

I think of my mental stability as a pie chart–when I’m completely full, I’m totally stable. When I’m not full, even the littlest things can deplete me down to almost nothing and cause a state of emergency. I haven’t been full for almost 2 years. I can be going through my day and feeling okay and then one little thing, that would seem like nothing to the average person, mashes me into the ground and triggers, what I like to call, a freak-out.

During this freak-out I’ve lost all control of myself. It presents itself in many ways: anger, sadness, loss of the will to live–but in all of these ways, I’m watching from the outside. I don’t know who this person is. She says things I would never say. She acts in ways I would never act. My brain has total control and even though I’m fighting, I’m almost never strong enough to stop it once it gets on a roll. I’m a tiny being existing in this strong mind and body that has fully taken over as someone that’s not me.

My mind is racing. I feel empty and alone and not safe. There are a million things going on in my head: “you’re never going to get better,” “why would anyone love you,” “you’re useless and shouldn’t even bother anymore.” I can’t stop these thoughts and sometimes there’s so many that they blur together and I can’t even pick one out because it’s so loud. I hate them. I want nothing more than to remember who I am and conquer these moments, but the thoughts are like cement globs being dropped around me and stopping me from moving and functioning. My soul is broken into thousands of little pieces and none of them can find which piece it belongs next to. I’m lost, floating and terrified.