I disagree with most of the people who have answered so far. I do think this is serious. Yes, BPD is a catch all, but when we’re talking about depression, self-harm, and bulimia, we’ve got something serious going on. Low self-esteem, hyper self-criticism and who knows what else—a disaster in the making.
You do not do these things without feeling such a strong sense of being worthless and stupid (even though you know you are smart) and unloved that it’s not far to making attempts to completely remove yourself from the scene. It’d probably be doing the world a favor, right? Your family hates you, and expects too much from you and you can never match up to what they want and they’ve never given you a word of praise, and you don’t have a boyfriend, or if you do he treats you like shit, and you think you deserve it.
These are all lies, you know. Lies we tell ourselves because there’s something wrong in our brains. And they make sense to us even if no one else understands (which makes it worse). They tell you it’s just adolescent whatever and you’ll grow out of it, and they just are patronizing and don’t take you seriously and you’ll show them one day.
Sometimes I fucking hate the whole field of psychology or maybe I hate society because so many people don’t get it and offer these ridiculous solutions that will do nothing. But there are also so many therapists out there who don’t get it either. There are good ones, but too many bad ones and it can be so hard to find the people who can actually help.
I nearly died about three years ago. I was ready to go because the pain was so bad I could not imagine it ever ending. People would tell me it would get better, and I knew that the might be right, but I also knew they could not be right, because this fucking molasses and dim world with the heaviness in my chest was so big and so strong, it would be liking trying to play tug of war with an elephant.
It’s even harder when you’re young, because you don’t have the things that keep older people around like children and spouses and whatnot. People keep telling you that it will get better and that you are worthwhile and very smart and they love you, and they just don’t get it, do they? It’s almost annoying that they keep on trying. Why not leave you alone so you can stop cutting up your arms and stop eating and just run yourself to death? Or something like that.
Unfortunately, they are right. And I know you know it, too. Because I knew it even when it was all hidden and locked up under layers and layers of pain that create layers and layers of lies because I was fighting to feel love and I just couldn’t. None of it made sense. Amazingly, I was really good at finding people to fall in love with me and it never took. I never believed it.
Oxytocin. Heard about it on the radio today. Really messes with our heads. Can make us feel great and yet it just doesn’t take.
You hurt yourself because physical pain feels better than mental pain. You starve yourself because…. oh, it’s so complicated. You are punishing yourself, for one thing. Other people don’t understand how bad you are and won’t punish you, so you have to do it yourself. But it’s also about achieving some perfect standard of beauty, so you can be worthy of love. So you can wow the world. So you can be so perfect the world will fall at your feet.
Inside you know you are lying to yourself, but the pain is too much, and so you can’t let that voice come out. Especially if you can’t really trust anyone out there to really take care of you, which is what you need. So the skinniness is a defense against people, and against the risk of love, because if you make yourself vulnerable, it’ll be even worse when they dump you.
The psychiatrist can help, you know. What did it for me was meds at first. I have many friends who had to go through a dozen meds to get to the right one. I was lucky. I got help from the first one. They added two more later, to get it all fixed, but I was lucky.
Therapists, too, are like meds. You may have to go through a dozen before you find one that works. Don’t give up if the first few can’t help. There is some therapist out there who you can work with; who gets you.
There are so many tools you need, though. All these feelings rushing through you and throwing you around like leaves in a wildfire. It seems impossible to deal with, and yet, I promise you, it is possible to deal with it.
It will take a lot of work over a number of years to get everything you need in the right place. You’ll need the right meds, and the right therapy. But I think the most helpful thing is to talk to a group of people who are the same as you are. You’ll be so surprised at how many there are, and even more surprised that they have all the exact same feelings and thoughts as you do.
It’s kind of scary. We think we’re all unique and alone and these feelings are so awful, no one else could possibly understand, and then it turns out there are clubs of us. An underground movement, almost. Because this is a hidden malady—all mental illnesses. The one I have (bipolar) and the ones you have.
My Psychiatrist says there are genetic connections between all the mental illnesses. I wonder if they are all different expressions of what is essentially the same thing. It’s kind of a mix and match thing. I have bipolar and anxiety. She has personality disorder and bulimian. My friend has depression and ADD. It’s like some kind of devils plate of appetizers. Mmmmmm.
The part about the pain you choose for yourself being better than risking happiness turn to pain? That is the hardest. Well, it was for me. It took me the longest time to believe that anything good I did was actually good. Or that anyone who loved me shouldn’t be shoved out the door as fast as possible just to get it over with. The pain was more predictable, and thus preferable to risking happiness. Oh that is hard.
But doable. Really. I promise you. It’s all doable. Even I could do it. Ain’t that a hoot!