BPD and Me

Published May 28, 2014 by Harri

PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS POST.

TW’s for Suicide, sexual abuse is briefly mentioned, self harm, cutting, blood, BPD, abuse, etc.

 

I am still trying to get my head around the BPD diagnosis. I know it fits and I know it definitely makes sense.

I am trying to work out which part of the disorder I can apply to my life. I don’t understand it and I am struggling to work out how it fucks and taints everything. So here it goes.

Wiki’s take on BPD

I have read through that Wiki page and wow, it kind of makes sense. Hell, I have actually described myself as a Chameleon on more than one occasion, due to the fact that I can distance myself from certain situations. So much of what I read rang true. The self-harming to feel something, anything. The feelings of emptiness and zoning out.

I have always said that with my PCOS (which is Oestrogen heavy, women with PCOS have massively higher quantities of Oestrogen in their systems compared to Progesterone, which makes them sensitive to progesterone and makes mood swings and BPD like behaviours appear around their monthlies) may be either amplifying it or possibly a trigger. Along with the mountains of other shit I went through too.
I do believe I have BPD, I also believe that it is made worse with my cycles, I also believe, now having read the wiki definition, that my impulsive behaviours are worse than I thought. I am a compulsive eater, spender and cutter. I will cut for no reason and have been recently too.

Being asked why I cut my breasts made me uncomfortable. They were one of the few things I actually liked about myself. Basically, I cut my breasts because there are no major arteries there. I can’t be accused of wanting to commit suicide. I don’t want to die. I am merely trying to feel. I have to keep repeating to Doctors, that if I wanted to kill myself I would go from thumb to elbow and I’d make sure my daughter wasn’t the one who found me. It would be easy to clean and I’d apologise to the world for breathing.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I do still believe the world would be a better place without me, BUT and this is the ONLY but… my daughter is my reason to keep breathing. Selfish maybe, I want to see her do the things she wants to in life. I want to see her happy of her own accord. I want to see her succeed in whatever it is she decides to do. I want to hold her hand when shit gets rough. It’s what Mam’s do, right?

Then I start thinking how much am I going to fuck her up…. How much will she blame on me when she is older? Will I taint her like every other good thing/memory in my life? It’s like I am not good enough to have it so I have to mar it, to give it a reason, proof if you will, why it/they should leave or be negative to me. I don’t deserve any of it. I haven’t earned it.

 

A lot of people over the years have called me a “Drama Queen” (I was awarded a certificate at the end of year 9 that said the whole class agreed. I had been sexually abused twice at this point.) and ‘Attention seeking.’

I don’t deliberately go out to upset people. I ask for feedback from friends I trust. The will tell me that I am justified in how I feel and they will tell me that I am over-reacting. I get that. I do. I have manipulated people in the past, I think I have gotten worse at lying. Jeez, you need a fucking good memory to be a good bull-shitter. That I do not have. Hell, I’d rather recycle a million truths than try to remember a lie. I am that bad, it also means that I know where I stand with people, as I will only ever give them the truth. A lot of people don’t understand where I am coming from and more choose not to care about why I am the way I am. I can’t leave that be. I hate the fact that I hurt or upset people. It eats me up. It really does. I guess my Guilt complex and my need for acceptance and the fear of being rejected are all rolled into one there.

 

I want to be able to leave my house without having a panic attack over bumping into someone I know and them judging me for the weight I have put on. I know I am a fat bitch now, I truly do, but I don’t want to be reminded about it by someone I haven’t seen for over half a year. Seriously. I appreciate that you are trying to compliment me, but when you have to listen to the same old recycled lines, it’s hard fucking work painting the smile on your face.

“But you looked so pretty and healthy!”

“Aw that’s a shame. You will get back into it. You’ll be gorgeous in no time.”

 

None of the people who have said those have considered that my binge eating is part of my compulsive behaviour, I cannot help myself. (Well, I can with the right help,  I am sure.) Eating is another way of cutting for me, safe intent, just different tool. I am a binge eater who is losing her grip on everything slowly. Or it feels like it anyway.

I spend when I know we don’t have money, I eat when I know I shouldn’t. I starve when I have to make sure Kiddo is fed, then feel resentful when she leaves food. (I don’t tell her that as I don’t want her developing food issues like I have.) That would be passing on a legacy that would be neither helpful or wanted. I do wish I could retrace my steps. Change a few things. Then the ultimate question begs….

 

Would I be the same person?

 

The answer would be No. I’d never be who I am.

I am a 29 year old, very nearly 30, woman with an 8 year old daughter who is the apple of my eye. She is the reason I continue to breathe. I can’t and won’t have any more children. I wouldn’t want to put her through that shit again. She is my world.

 

And on that note, I am off to bed, hoping that I wake up in a decent mood tomorrow so Kiddo can have some fun.

Oh, Kidneys are still causing issues, antibiotics are being taken. Just a case of wait and see.

A x

 

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2 comments on “BPD and Me

  • Hi Chick read your post well done on writing it all down when I Did CBT therapy it helped me too I know we dont know each other that well but if you need a ear or a shoulder to lean on here for you. sending love and hugs Sarah x

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