Open Letter to my Borderline Personality Disorder
You’re just a doozy of a diagnosis, aren’t you? From the moment your label was attached to my name, doctors started seeing me differently. They often assumed I was difficult, manipulative, attention-seeking. The thing is, that’s you, not me. You’re the crazy one. I don’t love that word but I’m reclaiming it. As a person with mental illness I can call myself crazy. And if I’m crazy, you’re batshit.
I work really hard at managing your symptoms yet every time I think things are going well… panic attack. Cause who likes breathing anyway? Panic attacks are the new black. They’re so on trend, they go with everything – dinner with friends, meeting with the boss, first date. And I know how good you are at them. You’re just so super awesome.
Can you tell that was sarcasm?
Sometimes you feel like an out of body experience. I feel like I’m watching from outside myself – watching you take over and I’m powerless to stop you. It’s infuriating. You get in the driver’s seat and I feel like an unwilling passenger who keeps pushing the freaking “next stop” button but the bus never. stops.
The intensity of the emotions you make me feel is like having a constant sunburn on which I’m wearing a really itchy sweater. It’s enough to drive anyone mad. These horrible metaphors alone are enough to drive anyone mad, but describing you requires creative writing. You’re not like other mental illnesses. You’re special. So special, in fact, that you convince me no one can possibly understand me.
At least you give me an excuse to be angsty and misunderstood.
You make sure that people give us a bad rap. A TV show calls for a crazy ex-girlfriend? Bam, there you are. A movie needs an unstable, obsessed female character? You swoop in again. I’m honestly getting sick of it. Yes, I boil people’s pets in my spare time. Get the fuck out of here with that bullshit.
Why do you have to make me feel everything so intensely? I feel like I’m constantly on the verge of a mental collapse. Then a minor inconvenience comes up. And there you are driving the bus again, except this time it’s on fire and you’re speeding off a cliff.
Aren’t you sick of this shit too?
Sometimes I wonder why I’m sometimes moody and irritable for no reason. What happened? What am I thinking? Oh right! That’s you again. Do you just hate it when people get close to me? Does it make you jealous when I’m building a semblance of a healthy relationship? Cause you always try to ruin it. Then again, the mere fact that I live with you means I second guess myself and end up pushing people away before they have the chance to hurt me. Fantastic.
You’ve followed me around the world and I quickly learned I can’t outrun you. You’ve checked me into countless hospitals and if you knew how terrible the food is in the psychiatric ward, you would have apologized already.
Enough is enough. I think it’s time we part ways.
Oh, mental illness doesn’t work like that?
At least I know what’s making me crazy. And they say knowing is half the battle. As for the other half of the battle? Watch your back cause I’m not giving up. Jerk.