TW: SELF HARM/suicide/depression
I’m sorry for the extremely down post, feel free to skip this one if you’re not feeling good too. I just feel insanely triggered and this is the only outlet I can think of using without explaining whats happening to my family (they didnt know about this as it was too new…) or draining my friends who have already given me advice, but I feel as neurotypicals no one would really understand just how much pain this would cause a borderline.
in the psych world they speak about ‘narcissistic injury’ which refers to the wound people can knowingly or unknowingly inflict upon a narcissistic individual. This pain, has an exact name because it is that significant in the narcissists life. It describes a hurt that wounds them at their core. In their complex personality “disordered” mind, this wound penetrated the layers upon layers and hit right to their weakest point, to the most vulnerable corner of their soul, to the inner most demon in their psyche. Pain so deep, it destabilises their very foundation.
i feel wounded today as a borderline. I dont believe we have a term for this, and in fact, neurotypicals probably feel what I’m feeling at some point in their life, but I have learnt over the years it is probably nowhere near as intense as it is for us.
in my budding relationship, my fp, my best friend who I learnt to grow vulnerable with, speak about topics with- without restraint, may already be coming to an end after a mere three months.
while we were friends (beginning of this year) his encouragement, and my healing from the trauma of last year, I had the strength to advance in a two step up promotion. The hours have been tough, I have been stretched beyond belief, but through sheer grit I have had great success, I made new friends, and impressed my boss.
i am acutely aware of how well I appear. How I juggle demands, keep long term friendships, learnt to explain when I’m upset and not escalate situations, work over time, clean my room, pay my bills, meet my life’s demands where I am at despite living with chronic on and off depression (i cant remember many times when it was “off”) and BPD.
but times like this, I am reminded how different I am. I havent had a week off since last summer. That was not a fun week off I was healing from a toxic relationship where I was manipulated and harmed psychologically, as well as doing the same back in my own terrible way.
i worked through the break up, in strict lock down, without breaks, I solved family issues and comforted my mother while keeping myself together i am the breadwinner, people depend on me to keep my s*** together, i have to keep going, to break down is not a choice. I somehow managed to get myself promoted despite having been through so much. I start my new job immediately, no breaks.
needless to say I was at the end of my mental rope the past few weeks. Yet, I manage to secure a new job for when this one ends. More money. I keep it together.
i love my new partner intensely he stuck by me through my family problems, encouraged me at interview, watched me when I was high – a time I always isolate in, in my room, curtains shut, messages ignored, I would face time him and reveal myself.
I finally had a week off booked for us. To bask in eachother. To get outside. To explore the world a little more out of covid restrictions which are slowly lifting and yet, still threatening to shut down again before summer can even begin.
to spend rainy days indoors because here, we are still experiencing a long winter. Winter and covid have not let up here. Somehow, I have remained “well” my family suspect nothing only that after work I tend to keep to myself in my room some days, unaware of the crippling depression and that my need to “wind down” is my mental illness creeping up on me after my 6pm sometimes, 9:30/10pm all day work shift, reminding me of its presence, the demon that never lets up. They probably think I’m lazy or a recluse, or both.
they dont see that i stole opioids to “escape” my feelings, my mind, my world, the pressures of the day, the week. How selfish. How selfish I am for stealing someones medication secretly for my own non essential needs.
i am not high on that right now. I decided to swap it out for pot since last week. It’s not the same, but at least it takes me out of being a stealing piece of excrement.
I wait happily for next week. Finally! After a dreadful sludge of covid, winter, work, depression, more work, new work, family issues, tears, I would get to bask in his arms all week.
we could ride outdoors. We could laugh.
i challenge my splitting weekly. After years of therapy I was determined to make this my healthiest relationship yet.
i am attentive. I communicate. I wait it out before texting to make sure i didnt send aggressive texts, to make sure i didnt pick fights based on assumptions. I practice dbt and cbt skills aimed at challenging your thoughts which stem from fear of abandonment everytime I felt my fear of abandonment activated. So I would ask politely “what are you upto?” And not “where the hell have you gone?! Why wont you respond to me?!” Which my ill brain encourages me to do. I make myself busy when he doesnt call, to make sure I dont make him the focus of my life when he’s busy. To have my “own” life. To “focus on my needs”.
many BPD’s never reach this stage. My behaviours prove a level of self awareness.
“I dont think I can do next week”.
the whatsapp message blares on my screen before I get up to get ready for work today.
My brain shakes in my head from the pain. I feel like I’m bursting at the temples. Like the inner explosion can no longer be physically kept in my body. The tears fall.
i grab my beauty blender to spread concealer under my dark undereyes. Today is big meeting day. Going in is not an option at this level of the ladder.
tears wipe away my work. I try to dry my eyes and dab on a new slodge of concealer.
my eyes are red. Will they notice?
he tries to call me. I dont answer.
“If you want to break up with me just be direct” i yell into the phone, ironing my clothes by banging the iron onto my dress.
i want to rip his head off.
how could HE out of everyone do this to me?
“i dont know. I dont know if its second thoughts”
I squeeze my nails into my palm on the bus journey. It doesnt hold back the tears as I had hoped, and i cry on the way in to work.
This is the beginning of my day.
Thinking in Grey 