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by Laura Casarez about a month ago in bipolar
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Borderline personality disorder

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I've never been diagnosed with it. Maybe that's because I've never been honest with any of my psychiatrists or doctors. I'm afraid to be judged. I'm afraid of that look, or feeling of shame.

I'm afraid of certain medications because I'm an alcoholic/addict. I'll use anything to get me out of my mind and body. I’ll use anything to fill the gaping hole in my soul.

Empty but also completely full of pain, confusion, rage, self-deprecating words, and abuse.

Anything that feels like emotional abuse, a little piece of me dies inside. I want to hurt them. I want to hurt myself. I want to disappear. Living with these demons every day immobilizes me.

I do my best to put on a brave face. I think I do pretty well for the most part.

I know people think I'm intense. I am. I know people think I'm a b***** and maybe it's just me. Maybe those are just all the things I say to myself and I don't know why.

All I know is that when I look in the mirror I'm not happy. Not because I think I'm ugly or out of shape, but because there's shame in not being able to fix myself. Shame in not being able to make the voices quiet enough to be rational when my emotions are heightened.

My emotions are always heightened. I felt like this most of my life. It's been hard to get out of bed most of my life. I wanted somebody to save, me most of my life. I just wanted someone to love me. I talk to people about it and I always hear the same thing, “everybody's like that! Everybody feels that way!” I should stop talking to people about it. They can't relate to wanting to drive themself off of a cliff because he canceled plans. It's extreme. It's depressing.

That's depression. It's mood swings. It's constant crazy! Please don't call me crazy! I'll show you crazy. I'm glad I have the wherewithal today not to slash tires and break windows with a baseball back or key somebody's car. Dig up some information that'll ruin you and do it because I didn't get what I wanted or just because my feelings were hurt.

My feelings get hurt all the time. I hurt my feelings. I've never been diagnosed with it and I have people that tell me, “Oh don't self-diagnose yourself”. People can be so patronizing for the sake of “caring”. I can't stand them.

I swear I just want to slap them. Especially friends that I love the most. Well, I don't think I love them the most. I think I depend on them the most to validate me. She reminds me of my mother.

It's hard to validate myself when my mind tells me I should be ashamed of myself just for being born. I know there's so much trauma in my family. I have to be the one that heals it to a certain extent. I have four children and they are sorely affected. I just know that I feel their heart when it hurts and I watch how they move and I feel shame for being a failure of a mother.

I've done my best. I think I've done my best. Even on the days that I lay in bed, and I don't want to get up because my soul is crushed I stay alive; that is my best on that day. I'm not even sure why I feel like a failure.

I should eat better, read better material, and write better material. Get outside more. All the things that I should have, would have, could have. I feel like trash because I don't, and then people judge me. I want to make it out alive. I know none of us do, but I want to live before I die. Everything scares me. Everything's out to get me. Moments in that fear and in those instances where I feel like I have to run. Runaway! I’m not sure where. Sometimes I hope this is it. That it is a heart attack. This is a brain aneurysm. This is the stroke. It's going to take me out and I can finally rest!

I’ve never been diagnosed with it. Maybe I will get honest and it will get better. Maybe not.


About the author

Laura Casarez

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