A Diagnosis at Last...

I will call myself J. I am now 38 years old. I have struggled mightily for years with mental illness. I have never had a normal day in my life. It was a struggle at times to live day to day for me.

I remember the day I realized, at a very young age, that I was different than everyone else. Realizing that what I was thinking wasn’t right but it felt good at the same time. I was thirteen years old. Most thirteen year olds are happy and healthy running around like they do not have a care in the world. Here I was, at thirteen years old, beginning to drown in a sea of darkness.

I began to grow up and the mental issues continued to grow as I aged. I didn’t come from a family where we talked about feelings or nonsense of that kind. I began to stuff feelings and pretend that I was fine. That worked for a few years until I ended up in a psych ward for the first time. They wanted to change all kinds of medication and do this and that. My father, of course, did not want any part of that. So, I came home and everything remained the same. He said I didn’t need meds so I guess I needed to suck it up and keep going. This went on for years, and years… and years.

I would start relationships just to end them a month or two later. I never felt that I was settled. I drank a lot and I tried to forget about any problems that I had. Let me tell you, drinking only makes mental illnesses worse, it amplifies them up a notch or two. I was also very promiscuous. Not a very healthy way to deal with an out of control mind. I have been this way for most of my life and I accept that. I have a hard time settling with another human being and giving them the power to hurt me.

Now, we come to about the age I am now. Last year was a complete disaster for me. I made two attempts on my life and ended up in the psychiatric ward three times. It seemed to be different for me these three times. I felt I needed to be there and I needed someone to help me. I knew my medication was a huge problem and had not been working for months. The first trip to the psych ward yielded no results. They put me on meds that made me sick and I was in and out of the hospital a few times. I was completely miserable. I really did not want to be here then.

My second trip is when they began to think of my diagnosis and start to straighten out my medications. In the beginning everyone just thought I was super depressed and anxious. Which of course I was, but I have felt like this all my life. There had to be something they could do so I could feel just a bit better. It was not until I was out of the hospital and I was at my first therapy session that she thought borderline personality disorder. She asked if anyone had suggested that and I had to laugh. Everyone had suggested everything but. As I learned more and have been going through therapy now it all makes sense. Borderline personality disorder is just a fancy way of saying that someone cannot regulate their emotions effectively. Of course, there is no cure and no medication to actually regulate the disorder. I have to say that, today, in therapy and a group setting, I am doing much better. I am trying to learn skills and tips to help regulate my emotions and medication does help tremendously.