Story #23

I am writing this to let others with Borderline Personality Disorder know that they are not alone. At one time I felt so very alone. I felt crazy and hopeless and had become quite certain that no one could help me. For many years I knew there was something wrong but didn't know what it was. All I knew was that it couldn't be right to feel so emotional, crazy, hopeless, tired, and empty. I went through periods of time in my adolescence that I look back on now and only want to forget. I remember the first time I took a knife to my body. It was the night that I was certain even death had to be better than the life I was living. I was 16 then. I had been raped (but didn't realize that because it was also the first time I had sex). Everything was so wrong yet I didn't know what "right" felt like. I didn't know that you were supposed to agree to have sex. Now I know better. I was so lost then. I would use any drugs that were introduced to me. I went to school stoned, when I went to school. I was nothing. As my mother would so often tell me, I would never amount to anything. I was as pathetic as all my friends. So that is what I became.

I lived that way for a very long time. About 5 years I suppose until my sister told me it wasn't normal to feel that way. I didn't know that I could be helped. I was skeptical at best, but went to see the doctor anyway. Who gave me Prozac. The wonder drug....which did nothing for me, except help me believe that I couldn't be helped. Prozac led to many other antidepressants which led to mood stabilizers....and after my sister and nieces died it led to tranquillizers. I liked those pills. They made the bad things not matter so much anymore. I still have my stash of Ativan. I keep it, just in case. Seldom do I use them now.

I've been in hospitals many times. Before January 1999 I had never seen the inside of a Psych Ward....By August 2000 I had been admitted 7 times. I will not go back there. Borderlines don't get a very good reception in a psych ward. We are told to get it together, relax, try some deep breathing, grow up. Oh I hate that one. Do NOT tell me to grow up. I have seen and experienced more than most of those doctors and nurses in my 26 long years.

At this point in my life I have been on numerous medications, have had four psychiatrists (not counting the interns who got to learn at my expense), been hospitalized many times, and still fight to stay sane. Now I often give others the benefit of the doubt before I flip out.....because after all, I am the one with the disorder who distorts what she hears, gets the facts wrong, and flies off the handle too easily. So now I am calm, rational, and let them win. They like it that way and I get to stay sane and swear at closed doors.

I have educated myself. I have dedicated enormous amounts of time to my recovery. I want to be well and I WILL accomplish this. I read a lot, about my disorder.... I read about what will help, why I do the things I do, and what I need to do differently. My exterior is very "together" now yet I crumble inside when no one is looking. I have acquired skills to get good jobs...I learned enough sign language in 3 days to get my first job interpreting for the deaf in schools. Now they call me an Educational Interpreter yet I have never stepped foot into post secondary education. I go to work and pretend I am this happy person who does a good job. I go home after work and crumble from the energy it consumed for me to "fake it".

And they wonder why I take time off work....months at a time. I have to gather the energy to be that happy person that they all enjoy being around. I have to adjust medications so I can stay sane....not tell them what idiots they are....but instead continue to swear at closed doors so I won't be the one flying off the handle and distorting the facts. I feel like I have gotten the short end of the stick, and probably I have, but I continue to be the person they all want me to be. Inside I struggle to find who I really am. It's a constant struggle but one day I am going to be "well". I am determined. I take no medications now for my "condition" although this makes the most recent psychiatrist think I'm making wrong choices. She used to need to see me often, but suddenly when I didn't want to swallow her pills I was not worthy of her time. I don't see her anymore. In some strange way I have experienced so much yet ended up where I started. 

It's 2 in the morning and I'm thinking about my life. The way I used to when I was 16. That was 10 years ago now. Now there is one thing that is different. Now I know that I am not the only person who feels this way and that is so very important to me. I know now that others have, and still do, experience this torment. I know I can feel better in the end. I don't know when my end will be and I don't know what it will be like to feel better. I do know that it will happen for me eventually. One day I will too be sleeping like the rest of the world and when I wake up in the morning and smile.....it will be for real. One day I will quit swearing at closed doors. You will too. We are not alone. We will heal.