I’m so sorry I haven’t written in here for almost 6 months! Sometimes life just gets in the way of things!
I’m almost done with the fall of my junior year, which is crazy. Time really has been flying for me. Every day has been a challenge, and, for better or worse, I’m taking each one head-on.
The past few months have been a roller coaster for me – too many ups and downs to count. I worked over the summer in addition to getting back into my volunteer work at the local nature preserve. I decided to switch my minor from neuroscience to biology and decided on a few different career paths I could take if the others don’t work out. I’m so busy this semester that I hardly have time to sit down and think about my feelings. However, I wish I could say everything has been smooth sailing heading into this semester. It wasn’t. I’ve had a lot of setbacks, and I know right now I’m not as happy or comfortable with my life as I’d like to be.
Just when I thought I had BPD beat, it came back kicking and fighting in September. The dreadful feelings of hopelessness have returned, and while they are not constant, they are debilitating when they hit. I feel neurotic and paranoid at times. It’s not fun living with constantly changing emotions and a tidal wave of anxiety every time the slightest thing doesn’t go the way I wanted. Something as simple as not getting a text back triggers an avalanche of worries related to my deep-seated fear of abandonment: “Do they not like me anymore? Am I annoying them? If I never text them again, would we just never speak again? Especially since they probably won’t text me first anyway. Why am I so paranoid? Maybe they didn’t see my first text. I’ll send another. Wait, does that make me look clingy? Fuck this. I’m putting my phone on silent and hiding it.”
It may seem silly to those who don’t have BPD. You may be thinking, “Why can’t this girl just relax and not over-analyze everything? Everything is fine.” I wish I had an answer besides the fact my brain is just wired this way and I got the short end of the mental health genetics stick. Of course, many past experiences have shaped the woman I am, too, and rejections have been a recurring theme throughout my childhood. Other than that, BPD just is what it is. Some people will go through hell and back and never develop a mental illness, while others may grow up in a loving environment and still develop one. Sadly, I’m still told to just “get over it” and to “stop worrying”, as if those words are the magic panacea to my nearly 21 years of a BPD-full existence.
Lately, I have been struggling, and I’m afraid it’s become visible in ways I want to hide but can’t. I know that I’m still on the road to recovery, and always will be. I can’t promise that I will always be okay, but I’m trying like hell. I don’t know how I’ll feel each day – it’s like a roll of the dice for whether I wake up dreading the day or looking forward to what I’ll be doing. I know that I’m fighting and always will be. I CAN promise you that I will never give into my illness and I will never give up. Though sometimes I can’t see the light at the tunnel, I know it’s there. I just have to keep pushing in order to find it.