Today I woke up and I knew that something was wrong. I
opened my eyes and stared straight ahead, but couldn’t bring myself to turn my
head, that felt like too much. My chest felt very heavy, as if someone was
trying to pull my heart and lungs down into the bed. I rolled onto my side and
curled up, continuing to stare straight ahead, wishing I didn’t have to face up
to the reality of going through another day.
I try and sit up but I realise I am crying, and whenever I try and take a breath, it feels like I am taking on a promise to survive, each second. A promise I don’t feel I can keep, but every breath holds me to it. This makes me angry, my body is forcing me into thing I don’t want. I try and hold my breath , this should be my control, but as my tears catch up with my clenched lips I just end up sobbing, clinging onto my knees, hoping someone will come and take all of this away.
I haven’t been through a break up, no one has died, I haven’t been dealt any bad news. But I do have Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a disorder which characterises itself through rapidly changeable and intense moods, a lack of ability to hold stability with inter-personal relationships, difficulty holding onto an identity and incredibly strong impulses towards self-destructive behaviour, such as self-harm or suicide, along with a plethora of other painful traits. It is difficult to medicate and hard to treat with therapy, but these are the best options. It is hell on a daily basis, but it is my life.
One of the things I find most painful is knowing that I can’t actually let anyone know how bad it is without overwhelming them. I allow myself time scales. Maybe once a week, once a fortnight, I can be honest when a friend asks if I’m alright, and I can tell them the truth. But every other day I act as if I can actually cope. When I am out, I take regular ‘toilet breaks’ which are actually me having a panic attack or sobbing silently in a bathroom. I pretend to be busy on days where I am too scared to leave my bedroom because paranoia has overwhelmed me, and every month or so I make sure I let people know that I am doing better, so that they don’t give up hope even if I have done. Nothing in my life feels natural, because I can’t let anyone in to know the true depths of the hell I am in. It is carefully planning my next move, because if I burden someone with too much, the guilt will take over and I would probably overdose. Yet if I stay silent as tell no one, I would feel so alone that I would probably overdose. But if I strike the balance right, I feel as if I am manipulating people around me, which makes me hate myself, and want to overdose. It is a never ending cycle of not feeling like I belong in the world but being terrified of death, despite being completely over-ruled by the idea of it.
There is no way I can let someone into my world and let them see what it is like. As a person I am not sure of many things, I doubt almost everything, but the one thing I don’t doubt is that my situation is far worse than even I am willing to accept. For many people, a suicide attempt is the lowest point in their life, and something which makes them see the light and make a change; something that they move on from. For me, suicide is a life sentence.
If you love someone who is struggling with mental illness, take the time to ask them what it is like, and try and understand what they are actually going through. Understanding is surely the first step towards being able to support them through it. And if you’re in it for the long haul; I am sure they’d appreciate a reminder that you don’t plan on giving up on them, because I know that’s a reminder I would appreciate.
I try and sit up but I realise I am crying, and whenever I try and take a breath, it feels like I am taking on a promise to survive, each second. A promise I don’t feel I can keep, but every breath holds me to it. This makes me angry, my body is forcing me into thing I don’t want. I try and hold my breath , this should be my control, but as my tears catch up with my clenched lips I just end up sobbing, clinging onto my knees, hoping someone will come and take all of this away.
I haven’t been through a break up, no one has died, I haven’t been dealt any bad news. But I do have Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a disorder which characterises itself through rapidly changeable and intense moods, a lack of ability to hold stability with inter-personal relationships, difficulty holding onto an identity and incredibly strong impulses towards self-destructive behaviour, such as self-harm or suicide, along with a plethora of other painful traits. It is difficult to medicate and hard to treat with therapy, but these are the best options. It is hell on a daily basis, but it is my life.
One of the things I find most painful is knowing that I can’t actually let anyone know how bad it is without overwhelming them. I allow myself time scales. Maybe once a week, once a fortnight, I can be honest when a friend asks if I’m alright, and I can tell them the truth. But every other day I act as if I can actually cope. When I am out, I take regular ‘toilet breaks’ which are actually me having a panic attack or sobbing silently in a bathroom. I pretend to be busy on days where I am too scared to leave my bedroom because paranoia has overwhelmed me, and every month or so I make sure I let people know that I am doing better, so that they don’t give up hope even if I have done. Nothing in my life feels natural, because I can’t let anyone in to know the true depths of the hell I am in. It is carefully planning my next move, because if I burden someone with too much, the guilt will take over and I would probably overdose. Yet if I stay silent as tell no one, I would feel so alone that I would probably overdose. But if I strike the balance right, I feel as if I am manipulating people around me, which makes me hate myself, and want to overdose. It is a never ending cycle of not feeling like I belong in the world but being terrified of death, despite being completely over-ruled by the idea of it.
There is no way I can let someone into my world and let them see what it is like. As a person I am not sure of many things, I doubt almost everything, but the one thing I don’t doubt is that my situation is far worse than even I am willing to accept. For many people, a suicide attempt is the lowest point in their life, and something which makes them see the light and make a change; something that they move on from. For me, suicide is a life sentence.
If you love someone who is struggling with mental illness, take the time to ask them what it is like, and try and understand what they are actually going through. Understanding is surely the first step towards being able to support them through it. And if you’re in it for the long haul; I am sure they’d appreciate a reminder that you don’t plan on giving up on them, because I know that’s a reminder I would appreciate.
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