#bpd life

[coffeeandthoughtspoetry]

My contract with love has run out

[anotheruseless-girl]

Tengo marcas en el cuerpo, que cuentan historias que aún me duelen.

[anotheruseless-girl]

He vomitado por ansiedad, he llorado horas enteras, me he bañado en la madrugada para calmar los ataques, y sabes quién estuvo ahí para mi? Nadie, solamente yo. Por eso siempre soy mi prioridad, porque siempre fui mi única compañía.

[seductive-suffering]

This world is slowly dying and so am I.

I’m counting the stars in the sky trying to figure out what one might be you.

Do you blink or shine?

Are you a molten yellow or a fiery red?

Will you burn out or guide me?

I’m searching for a sign that soon I’ll be with you.

[seductive-suffering]

[seductive-suffering]

Now that you’re a ghost I beg to be like the girls in my smut.

Anxious, waiting, taken.

A force so familiar but so unseen. An invisible force. A touch only know for me.

Gaping, taking, a vessel only yours to claim.

[vintagediarys]

Everyone says the one who’s in love always wins, but scars are the only trophies I have from winning.

[danyafreebird]

Anyway, I strongly disapprove of us.

Further warning: alcohol, description of hallucinations, anxiety. A little glimpse into our life.

After we were diagnosed with BPD — WE THOUGHT THINGS WOULD GET BETTER, AT LEAST FROM A TREATMENT STANDPOINT. But if someone is just an asshole by nature — whether you take your meds or not — you’ll still be one. Like me.

Lamotrigine. For those who don’t know, in theory, you can drink alcohol, just not in large amounts. Side note: I talk to a lot of people with BPD, and also someone close to me has a different diagnosis but also takes mood stabilizers and drinks.

Our dose is small, and we thought: "Whatever, one drink won’t kill me. I’ll just skip quetiapine until tomorrow." So we went to a bar, relaxed, got our mind off things. And at night, she couldn’t fall asleep. In the morning, we were left alone at our friends’ place (we stay over at theirs a lot).

In the morning, we came up with that interactive thing we posted below, and posted it in the evening. We’ll explain why now.

To be clear — we drank very little. 4 shots + an unfinished cocktail. I didn’t drink nearly enough to be that messed up. But during the day, around 1 PM, total horror kicked in. Our friend called and said she’d be over in about an hour. We were generally happy, sitting in their kitchen, everything was fine.

And then I hear a knock. A knock at the front door. I go over, look through the peephole — no one there. We go back to the kitchen, our friend tries to calm us down because she understands what’s happening. We get hit with terrible panic. We wanted to smoke, but I was too scared to turn around. Also — we locked the door, but it started banging. You know that feeling, like someone’s about to open the door any second? In front of my eyes — literal images, and I can’t explain them. Like something is attacking me, and I see it. It’s inhuman, horrifying. And on top of that, right before sleep, we decided to listen to scary stories — yeah, we’re real comedians. We’re losing it, we block the kitchen door with a chair. And the door STARTS FUCKING POUNDING, like it’s about to burst open. Had to take quetiapine because I realized I was doing really, really badly.

And I sat there for an hour with that fucking awful feeling.

So what’s the moral of this fable?

No fucking alcohol for the rest of the treatment. Not even a little. That’s it. No. Absolutely none.

Thanks for listening. And by the way — I’d actually be interested to hear about your experiences too!!