“I’m either too much of a handful or am too eager to be loved that they walk away.”

I often describe having BPD as being stuck behind a window at the bottom of the ocean. You are watching everyone else above you snorkelling. If you have the privilege of an oxygen tank and no sharks, you, “should really be more grateful”… ‘Why can’t you just swim?”. In addition to this, the life saving crew can see the wooden seal of the window. They turn a blind eye. You’re viewing the world through a window and not a body. Wherever you are is sound-proof. They don’t hear your cries for help, only laugh at the flailing and silent screams from where they are.

I say this as there is no way to describe it. It only takes a quick Google search to see that it is one of the most emotionally excruciating disorders to live with. I thought that numbness would be a break. It eats me up just the same as every other emotion. There is no dial. I feel everything to the extreme all at once. 

I never felt understood. I would disassociate from these feelings in high school classrooms to get me through the lesson. I would disconnect so much from my body and mind that I was dragged out of class and questioned if I was intoxicated. I could never just be. and I’m not sure if I ever will, because I get so excited when I’m alone and safe that it isn’t really resting. I then feel guilty. I then replay any time I’ve ever been hurt. It isn’t rest, just pausing from doing a task and having 0 sense of relief, ever. It’s a Ferris wheel I will never depart. 

I can’t hold the same friendship group year to year. I’m either too much of a handful or am too eager to be loved that they walk away. I have only now found a job that accommodates my needs so I have felt worthless in every job prior. My relationship with family will never be stable. I am forever the child that gives them grey hairs that they fight over- who has to work, and who’s taking me to the psychiatrist. They fight over how the other parent doesn’t get it. My family will never understand and I feel like I’m a burden. There’s a history of severe mental illness that has never been addressed.

I’ve never been in a relationship and don’t know if I ever will. I now have friends that I think care about me. They told me it wasn’t a chore to love me and I don’t believe them, but it made me realise that before I would put up with whoever would tolerate me, and accept feeling like a burden because I am one instead of understanding that while I hate myself, not everyone else will have the same apathetic feeling towards me and I ‘deserve’ to feel loved – I don’t yet believe it. 

I continually ask for anyone to love me, and it’ll never be enough.