BPD Voices Project, Living With BPD
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My beginning

This is only my second post on this site– the first post that isn’t in the Ask About BPD segment, so I wanted to share some of my story. I call it the beginning only because this chain of events is what forced me into treatment. I’m sure that over time I’ll divulge information that predates the events detailed below. We’ll call those prologues when we get to them.

For now, I’d like to share a post from a personal blog of mine. I started this blog because I wanted people to know they weren’t alone. When I started my journey I couldn’t find anyone who seemed to think and feel as I did–I felt that I was truly alone. That was before I discovered this lovely Blog and associated Facebook page, of course.

I hope you will read this with an open mind. Boy, am I far from perfect and I hope that if you don’t relate to my story you will at least withhold judgement.

Trigger warning! This entry discusses intense feelings of depression and attempted suicide. If you aren’t feeling safe, please seek help and read this when you feel you won’t be at risk. (Scroll Down to read)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Depression can render you mute: incapable of voicing your needs, because you don’t know what it is that you need. It can worsen the trepidation of voicing your emotions, because all you know is sadness. It can cripple your ability to effectively express love because all you really fully understand is your hatred toward yourself.
Not only did I ignore it, I embraced it, like so many others. I found ways to push myself further and further into territory that, so far, has manifested itself as a sort of no-man’s land: desolate, lonely, bleak, and unnavigable. I have found myself lost and defeated in this confusing landscape, and still I wander further and further into this monochromatic world. I don’t enjoy the scenery, it’s a scenery that stares back at you–but it is all I know. It’s home.

I am currently receiving treatment for a variety of mental ailments. Certain disorders that are difficult to treat, and nearly impossible for others to tolerate. I’ve gained enough clarity through my infancy in treatment to ruminate, somewhat unkindly, upon the past and the chain of carelessness, self doubt, hypocrisy, arrogance, and manipulation that eventually convinced me to upturn a beautiful life with an absolutely beautiful person, culminating in various suicide attempts and months of aching for the ability to change the past.

I have somewhat anthropomorphized depression/anxiety into an entity that hung me from puppet strings and forced me to dance for it. In some ways I suppose it did, but only because I granted it that control. My struggles came from within, though I continuously projected them onto others in a desperate attempt to convince myself that I was fine–it was everyone else who was broken. I was unhappy with my marriage due to problems that berthed from my own mind. I placed the responsibility of my happiness upon my loving and loyal wife, and she bore it as well as any single human being could. Even after I told her about all of the twisted and awful things I had done.
I’d like to rewind about 10 hours from that last sentence. I was in my garage with a grill full of charcoal, and a journal detailing my transgressions.

Dated 08/20/14: “I’ve managed to destroy myself. I’m done living a lie . . .
This journal is anything but a happiness manifesto. I hope if anybody ever reads this, they’ll learn exactly how to not live their life. I’ve destroyed so much. All my insisting that nothing was happening with Deborah  . . . It was all a lie. We were together. It continued until last month. She asked me to choose . . . I wasn’t ready. I had to take a serious look at what prompted me to behave in such a way. I quickly identified the tipping point: feeling isolated in my marriage. But what was the cause? Catherine is such an amazing person. It wasn’t anything she did. Not really anyway. It was me. I hated myself. I was unlovable. That is NOT Catherine’s fault. Then along comes this girl . . She understands what I’m going through. She’s heard the demons and knows how to quiet mine. She made me feel less alone. Suddenly I didn’t have to lie about who I was. It’s my fault. I should have been honest about myself with Catherine. I had fallen in love with another. Being in love with 2 people is the deepest torment I think the heart can know. I never stopped loving Catherine. Not for a single second. I loved our life together. Everything about it, save the emptiness.
By the time I was ready to choose, Deborah had had enough of me. It wasn’t just the waiting. I had been truly terrible to her. In a moment of weakness and self-doubt, I actually questioned her rape. I suggested she was lying. Who does that?? I held her past against her. I dredged up past experiences without reason or fairness. I projected my insecurities into our relationship, robbing her of confidence. It was too much. She doesn’t want me back.
In my misguided efforts to try and keep 2 people happy, I’ve ruined the happiness of 3. I was a jealous, obsessive, unrecognizable boyfriend, and an absent husband.
I have failed. I have no hope. I have no love from either one. I am going to be homeless. I have no interest in dating or finding someone. There is noone else. Most people feel torn asunder when the lose “the one”. I managed to seek out and lose 2. I am the cut that just won’t stop bleeding. I am the monster. The destroyer. I breathe loathing and hatred. I burn happiness to a pile of ashes, leaving a smouldering, barren hellscape in my wake.
My demons won. I can’t keep Domino at bay anymore, he wins. I’m not angry, not even with myself anymore. But there is only one way I know to stop the monster from causing more damage. You don’t rehabilitate a monster, you kill it. Yes, sometimes there is some collateral damage, but it is necessary.
I’m so sorry to those I love, to those who will be affected by this. I hope you will allow yourselves to heal and find strength and love again. To my incredible wife, you were ALWAYS enough. It really is me. I know that doesn’t ease the pain of betrayal, but maybe it will help you move on and find the love you deserve.
Please forgive me”.

Hopefully a few things become apparent from reading this entry. I feel different people will discover different revelations in there. A couple of things that I’ve begun to understand from this are that A) My use of ellipses is obnoxiously over the top. B) I tend to really lay it on thick with the self hatred. It’s embarrassing, really. C) This is only possible for me to understand now that I’m looking back a few short months later, but the demons return. And worse than that, they turn you on the person who once quieted those demons. The reason? They didn’t actually combat your demons, they hid behind them. I guess in some ways, it is easy to blame that person, given that they appear to have helped disguise your demons while in their presence. Perhaps they are to blame. Deborah  definitely had a motive in helping me feel better about myself. She understood that Catherine  wasn’t great at helping me feel better about myself. She’s a smart person. She played on that, told me I was good at my trade, validated my feelings of isolation and made me feel wanted in such a way that I had convinced myself that I wasn’t already wanted.

Yes, my Depression, Anxiety, Type 2 Bipolar-ism and Borderline Personality Disorder are complete jerks. But I chose how to respond. I chose not to let happiness come from within. And now I am paying dearly for it. I hope that as I bring more light to my situation through future posts that someone will identify with these situations and seek help before they bring themselves to the same point. I had always wanted to be heard and truly empathized with. I hope someone can find that in this.

1 Comment

  1. Thank you for your bravery 💜 it is a quality found in few, and understood by even less. Your beginning is honest. That’s the best place to start.

    Like

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