boxed into some kind of preconceived notions

I noticed something wasn’t ‘right’ with me at age nine. It was three months after my father had committed s*****e. I remember my fourth grade class was assigned a terribly boring book to read and analyze. I was supposed to do my homework but instead, I took a nap. I woke up disoriented. I never did my assignment that night. The next day I told the teacher that I ‘couldn’t make myself do it’. No kid likes homework, but I felt physically incapacitated by it.

My symptoms day to day vary. Sometimes I have days that are productive and wonderful. On these days I imagine it’s what ‘normal’ people feel like. Sometimes I have days where want to do nothing but eat junk food and sit in front of my computer. Or sometimes I feel overly motivated when I have little sleep. My behavior before medication fluctuated to more extreme ranges.

This gets a little more complicated. When I was 13 or 14 it was very apparent that I was depressed and struggling with anxiety. One day in therapy I told my therapist about some grand idea for an art project I had, and she pulled out the DSM-4 and said I had Bipolar II.

I didn’t understand the implications at that point. They tried giving me meds but they made me feel bad so I stopped taking them. I had been prescribed many drugs but none of them ever really helped my symptoms.

Five years later I partook in a Bipolar study. I interviewed with a man who said that he thought I wasn’t actually Bipolar, that instead I had drug-induced mania (I had been an alcoholic and dabbled in drugs for three or four years). I thought, “Cool”.

Sure enough in 2020 I had temporarily gotten sober and was living a healthy lifestyle. Two months into sobriety, I had a life-shattering manic episode. One year later I checked myself into an inpatient facility.

I brought the psychiatrist a lengthy list of the medications I tried that didn’t work. He then put me on lithium. Lithium was the first medication I took that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. What’s interesting about lithium is that I feel as if I’m physically unable to entertain suicidal thoughts. I can say that lithium certainly saved my life.

My family and friends in my inner-most circle were understanding. They saw me drowning for years and it probably made sense to them. I get a mixed reaction from people outside my immediate circle. I had one friend tell me that depression isn’t real and I should “just meditate”. I try to be forward about it with work and potential partners but I learned that hard way that when I talk about it, I get boxed into some kind of preconceived notions about it.

The first time Borderline was brought up in regards to me was by my boyfriend’s sister. My boyfriend and I had a tumultuous past due to my illnesses and addictions. At one point my boyfriend’s sister, who is a therapist, said behind my back she thought I had BPD.

My first reaction was denial. A quick Google search brings up some very unfavorable results. A year later I thought BPD made sense. I asked my therapist and she said that she ‘doesn’t diagnose BPD, she only diagnoses trauma’. I later brought up to my psychiatrist that I had started Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and he diagnosed me with BPD.

I’m not entirely sure if I have it or not. The way I frame it in my head is that I had faced trauma in my early life. My brain had built defense structures to protect me. Now that I’m no longer in life-or-death situations, those structures are no longer appropriate. I don’t talk about my potential BPD diagnosis unless it’s with someone who is my close friend. I wish they would rework BPD into something that isn’t so stigmatized.

It’s fucking debilitating. It’s like moving through the world with cement blocks chained to my legs. I see my peers moving so seemingly effortlessly through life. I wonder, “Why can’t I be like that?”

I remember being very little and being at a beach. The waves were very powerful that day. I wasn’t too far from the shoreline and a wave crashed onto me. It caused my small body to tumble under the water. I remember my tiny body going in circles and chafing on the sand. I knew what was happening to me. I felt so panicked and I wanted out so bad, but there was a force greater than me keeping me there. That’s what my struggle with mental illness has felt like.

Before I got treatment it was nearly impossible to hold a job. I would want to strive for greater things but I would crash and burn so easily. For the longest time I couldn’t maintain friendships. If someone got close to me it was only a matter of time before I lashed out or disappeared.

Eventually I started isolating. It was nearly impossible to date me. I would hold someone on the highest possible pedestal until I would decide that I needed to abandon them before they abandoned me or hurt me.

I was very inconsistent with affection. Sometimes I was overly affectionate. Other times I was downright cruel and callous. I didn’t want to be that way but again, there was some force greater that was compelling me. This fact has caused me so much guilt and shame. I have worked very hard over the years to be consistent and understanding in my interpersonal relationships.

I would tell someone with mental illness to force the voice in their head to say kind things. Years of depression accompanied by an abusive upbringing have solidified a dislike for myself. Because I disliked myself for so long, it was easy to do things that were very harmful to me. We believe the things we tell ourselves.

I had a therapist that was into doing ‘mirror work’. During our session she had me stand in front of a mirror, look myself in the eyes and say, “I love myself”. I found this exercise to be repulsive. I couldn’t even look at myself and say that. Although these days, I mostly like myself. Through years of meds, therapy, and tons of self-reflection, I’ve found a life that is tolerable and mostly peaceful. Don’t get me wrong, I have my extreme lows every now and again. However, these lows are few and far between and it’s easier to bounce back when fall.

When I started investing in my wellbeing, my close relationships improved as well. I do my best to tend to my interpersonal relationships like one would tend to a garden. Life isn’t perfect but I can absolutely say it’s worth living.