When I first started this blog I didn’t reveal what mental illness I had been diagnosed with. I left it as a kind of vague depression with self harm tendencies. I was worried about revealing that I had Borderline Personality Disorder. I was buying into the stigma that I was fighting. There was also the worry that I would be boxed in by my diagnosis.For many years I struggled with my sense of self and where my place is in the world. My place in this world is something I still struggle with but I don’t struggle so much anymore with the who I am as person. I struggle with naming positive attributes, but I know who I am. However recently I am finding that the anxiety that has become my newest BFF has plunged me back into a place of doubt.
I have found myself falling for the stigma of BPD, hook, line and sinker. I berate myself for things that I do and think that are classic borderline. I question myself before I do anything for fear that it will reveal my hand. Yet I also find myself blurting out things in the moment, giving myself ammunition for later.
The trouble with being told that you have a personality disorder is that it is easy to believe that there is something wrong with the person that you are. After all isn’t that what we are told growing up, that people will love you for your personality above all else? So what happens when it’s broken?
That’s where the doubt creeps in. I’ve been told that it’s possible to get to a place where you no longer meet the criteria for BPD. I struggle to see myself without these issues, without feeling that I need to second guess whether what I am doing is borderline.
I worry that making my feelings known will be seen as being manipulative. I hold back on telling people how I am doing because I worry that it will be seen as manipulative. I worry about the impact that all of this is having on Mr 6. I don’t want him to have these same thoughts and fears as he gets older.
I barricade myself inside my house too afraid of change. I’m a social introvert. I crave human contact, the ease of spending time with people that I like but need time to recharge. The trouble is that I have taken so long to recharge I have forgotten how to reach out. I watch others interact and wonder how I can have that too. I fear getting too close because I don’t want to be accused of being obsessive. Then I let relationships die, and it’s all lost anyway.
I’m caught in a cage all of my own making. The anxiety got so much that I have turned myself into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Do you feel defined by your illness?
Do you worry that others see you as the symptoms of your mental illness?
Flogging mah blog with Grace!