All posts tagged: abuse

Bullying and Discrimination

Although I have often been asked about my attraction to darker literature, films, music and people in general, I have never really given it much thought (in terms of where BPD is concerned). Growing up, I was always a considered a bit “strange” or “weird” by my peers – other kids were reading “Dick and Jane” books, yet as early as the age of 7-8 I was engrossed by Stephen King, Dean Koontz and others. I was engulfing these books at a pretty rapid rate, and instead of using my school library, I would go to the local public library to get my fix (school didn’t cater for me). Horror films started earlier, my parents being the way they were, would let my brother and I watch whatever we liked, alone (or often while they were doing other things around the house). We purchased our first VHS recorder when I was 4-5 years of age, in 1979-1980, and that was a great time for films (horror in general), and some of the first films I …

BPD Voices: My Mother Stole My Identity

Today’s post is by Scott Michael Heath ***Warning. This post speaks truthfully and honestly about parental abuse and its long term effects on our development and BPD.           My Mother Stole My Identity. An Open Letter to the Woman who Ruined my Life.  People often say they (or someone they know) are “having an identity crisis”. The true meaning of an identity crisis though can mean different things for different people. Usually it means a period of uncertainty and confusion in which a person’s sense of identity becomes insecure, typically due to a change in their expected aims or role in society. BUT… What if you’re me? I have not had a “period” of uncertainty and confusion, it has been a long-standing thing which has been plaguing me since I was born. Sure, I did not have a very good upbringing (to say the least), which could have had something to do with my identity (or lack thereof) being shaped the way it has, but realistically, as you become older, should …

“Unstable Mind” : A Maze

I woke up this morning so nauseous. So anxious. It’s like broken shattered shards of glass internally immobilizing me. Waking up from nightmares and fears of abandonment with tears wanting to pour out except they won’t. Instead they bleed inward… as I feel like I’m drowning in my own emotions of not feeling good enough. Always feeling second. It feels like dying to me. But I know to most stable people it does not. I want to scream and shout. I want to fall into someone’s arms, anyone’s arms and be held until it feels okay again. But will it feel okay? Will it ever feel okay? Will I always be second guessing myself because of the past? I feel as though even without the past I was born this way. With attachment issues. I still have Selective Mutism. It comes and goes where I am just afraid to speak at all. And I can’t. That is when I feel myself writing. Writing until I feel okay again, just for a little while. I was …