I have spent most of this year thinking I won’t make it out alive. I’m sure I am not the only one who has felt this. In those early months of lockdown I tried to bury myself in books, but of course there’s homeschool and washing and dishes and the panic would rise and rise.
I’m not going to survive this, I’m not going to survive this, I am not going to survive this.
My life has changed, irrevocably. Some days I can be functioning in the world, other days emotions are high and they hurt. Dramatic, no? But I am sure someone out there reading this knows exactly what I mean.
At this point I am facing more instability than I have in a long time – I don’t know what my future is going to look like. I’m back to full time study in 2021. It’s also summer break and I have no work, no school and no structure and I’m probably going to be alone a lot. I bloody love routine.
Xmas always feels like a kick in the teeth.
Anyway, I digress ..
With something like BPD, a thing that affects your moods, thoughts and feelings it is really hard to tell what is you and what is It (yes I got Faith No More stuck in my head writing that line). It’s nestled right into your whole identity, your being. It shapes the way you experience and interpret the world, it shapes your relationships, your relationship with yourself. You can obsess over suicide but also be paranoid that everyone is trying to kill you – that’s super tiring. You can often feel like you are not real and I can’t describe that one any further, words don’t work.
Writing isn’t coming easy. I must have started about ten different posts over these past couple of months and given up. I’ve rewritten this one over and over again even though it is brief.
Mostly I got this. Mostly. Work in progress and all that stuff.