A Story About Living with a Personality Disorder, Strictly to Bring Awareness
I’m trapped. I’m lost. I can't escape the demons in my mind. I haven’t really felt like myself lately. I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the person I see. Someone help. For years I contemplated and plotted my suicide, but something always held me back and made me indecisive about what was the correct thing to do. I was afraid to disappoint the people who truly loved me. I knew I had to do it one day and no one was ever on the other side saying, “Don’t do it.”
I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I don’t feel alive. Am I even still breathing? Can I be saved? Do I want to be saved? I’m living a nightmare. A nightmare I can’t wake up from. I live in a constant haze with a crushing silence. My personality disorder is killing me. I fill my head with false scenarios because my chemical imbalance does not allow me to get hurt. I make myself truly believe something is wrong to get rid of anyone who shows any type of love towards me. My mind thinks I need to get rid of people before they get the chance to hurt me.
I’m tempted by these drugs again. As a recovering addict, I know it is never just one hit, one line, one pill. I should’ve known better than to take that one hit after one year and eight months of sobriety. This is a downward spiral. All I want to do is cope with the pain as this anxiety is choking me. We are all consumed by the feeling of needing to feel anything other than numb. It’s like the more I try to be happy, the less I feel. I tried anything to make me feel something and somehow drugs were always the answer. Trust me when I tell you that I know what it feels like to lose yourself to the drugs. I invested my time on drugs and I was drowning in a pool of euphoria.
My energy is wasted in a constant search to find the will to carry on. There is one thing I know: You need love. The feeling of being loved gives us a reason to keep pushing forward. However, we live in a generation where love hurts more than hate. We love and cross oceans for the people who wouldn’t even jump a puddle for us. Our pain causes a slippery slope that is often inevitable. I beat myself up for thoughts or actions that I honestly have no control over. I blame myself for things I know aren’t my fault, but I still seek for someone to blame because it angers me and all I want are some answers.
Sometimes I feel like I won’t make it out of this journey because something has ahold of me. However, sometimes I also think much of our pain is self-chosen and a simple misunderstanding of oneself or even life. I heard time heals everything? Is that true? How much time does it take? Will I let my sadness consume me before I allow myself to heal? I know I’m hurting deep down, but I refuse to show it. I refuse to show any sign of weakness or vulnerability in this cruel world.
My mind refuses to allow me to love myself. I always yearned to find someone I can rely on. However, I never found someone who understood that my mind does not work like everyone else’s. The day someone looked at me and told me my scars were a disgrace to society was when I knew I’m better on my own. I truly questioned my worth because I never thought actions like self-harm could be funny to people. I felt ashamed because I never thought my personal pain can bring laughs to the people in our society.
I beg my mind to free the thoughts lingering around, but they just don’t seem to budge. My goal is to find peace of mind. I want to wake up in the morning, but my mind says otherwise. I don’t want to kill myself. The voices in my head tell me I MUST kill myself. So many demons left to fight, but how much longer can I fight back?