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Hahahahahahahaha BPD episode
Things no one tells you about when you’ve been mentally ill for years and it won’t get better
— everyone will give up on you. Some will say it upfront, some will have indirect ways of showing it (you’re a lucky mf if you still have someone )
— your symptoms/ breakdowns/ panic attacks are cute for a few months. Everyone wants to help. Later on people find them annoying and inconvenient
— you will be blamed for not getting better. Doesn’t matter if you’re doing therapy, taking meds, exercising, eating well and sleeping. You can do all of it, some of it or none of it. They will find fault in your efforts.
— desensitization to your pain. This one isn’t their fault, it’s human nature. But it happens and yes it hurts cuz you would wish you were desensitized to your own pain but you have to feel it no matter what. Doesn’t matter if it’s the millionth time. It demands to be felt.
— people move on. But you can’t. You see people cope and get over things while you simply can’t. And it’s so much worse if you’ve been mentally ill for years. Even the smallest things break you and trigger you.
— you slowly realize this world isn’t made for mentally ill people in any way
— you’re tired / fatigued all the time. You have been for years now. You simply exist but you aren’t capable of living anymore. Your illnesses have taken everything that made you feel alive. You’re nothing but a shell. A body.
i just want to feel normal again :(
alcohol holds my heart in its hands. its shadowy black hands hold me close and whisper 'i will love you for the rest of your life. bring you indescribable joy. but i will kill you. you fear me yet you love me more than anything in the world'. i feel mocked yet i know deep down that every word rings true. my organs will never forgive me. the body that provided me with life. my body is beautiful. my existence is beautiful. but unfortunately i am sick. i wonder sometimes if there really is no hope for me, or if that is just my mental illness talking. but either away, it talks and i listen. every single time. i am ill. alcohol whispers, this time louder 'i am here for you. you will always have me. i will lift you up into the clouds, in heaven where all is right. and then i will drag you into the depths of hell. wake up. regret. sick. alcohol whispers to me 'i am going to kill you. you feel sick. you are unwell. you aren't functioning. you are declining'. i listen. i vow to do better. that same night alcohol returns, with a voice full of remorse. says 'please i'm sorry. take me back. i can help you. you can't leave me". and i don't. 'i have missed you, my old friend.'
I miss you, And not in a “it’s one in the morning, I’m so lonely, looking through old pictures” kind of way. I miss you, In a “my friends are all laughing, and so am I, but somehow you still haven’t left my mind” kind of way. I miss you, And not in a “someone asked me how you were today and I realized I didn’t know the answer” kind of way. I miss you, In a “nobody has brought you up in months, but I still tell stories about you” kind of way. I miss you, And not in a “it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m alone” kind of way. I miss you, In a “you did well on a test and I want to be the first person you tell” kind of way. I miss you. I don’t just miss the idea of you. I miss you.
excerpt from an unfinished book #59 // “breaking up is hard to do” (via un-predictible)