Hangry

Lots of people experience this. That irritability that we experience while hungry, essentially. For many people, it is a short phase that disappears after eating. It is something to laugh about later. However, individuals suffering from anxiety, depression, BPD, or any other mental illnesses may feel these effects differently.

Having BPD and experiencing extreme highs and lows on a regular basis is difficult enough to deal with. This only gets harder when you lose track of basic needs such as eating, drinking water, or sleeping.

Over the past couple weeks I’ve been going through a depressive episode. I spent all of Saturday in bed, but somehow kicked myself to get up on Sunday. Today I planned on going to the gym. This is why the gym is important to me: it makes me get out of bed, I will eat breakfast, I will exercise, eat again, and the rest of the day is on track. Today I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to skip the gym.

So I skipped breakfast. I skipped the gym. I went to a seminar and straight to work. I was focused on my work until around noon, when I realized I was starving.

Sometimes when I don’t eat, I’m just irritable. I get grumpy and silent and don’t want to talk to anyone until I eat. This is socially acceptable; people understand this. If anything people think it’s “cute” or “quirky”. When I’m already in a low mood, the feelings are a lot darker.

I needed to take out cash and I didn’t think it would be a big deal to go to the bank before eating. So I told my friend I’d catch up with her later.

Halfway there, an exhausted sort of feeling emerged. At the ATM, ruminating thoughts began. You’re useless. You’re ruined. You’re damaged. I started walking back to meet my friends. The exhausted feeling pressed down into my chest, hard. The thoughts were louder. You’re going to ruin this. You don’t deserve to be happy.

My heart was pounding and I walked faster. I knew I just needed to eat, and this would all go away. You should kill yourself. I stared ahead, trying to let the thoughts pass through. I knew I just needed to eat. You’re pathetic, you know that? What a fucking baby. Who gets this dramatic about being hungry? What would it be like to jump over that ledge? I shook my head and held back my tears.

This kept running through my head until I finally grabbed my food, and found my friend. All I could focus on was eating and trying not to cry. Afterwards, I felt calmer, but I was left tired and weary from the ordeal I just went through in my own head.

I went home. I’m back in bed. I don’t know whether I should cry or sleep. All I know is that I’m exhausted and all of this was totally preventable. I’m trying not to be too hard on myself, though; I just need to learn from this and move forward

Just because “boring self care” is boring, doesn’t mean it isn’t so important. Sometimes the small things make all the difference. Getting out of bed. Eating. Exercising. It’s so important to take care of these vulnerabilities. Your health is important. Your needs are valid and you need to care for yourself. 

Disenchantment

This is where broken people are.
This is where they wipe their tears away
And put on a new face;
A shiny, glossy mask.
They meet other
Shiny, glossy people and exchange superficial pleasantries.

This is for the people afraid of being alone;
Afraid of being marooned –
Forever controlled
By a willfully blind puppet master.
They look for another,
Fooling themselves,
Convincing themselves that they are the ones in control.
This is where the hopeful people are.

This is where the lost people are.
Passing through crowds of people,
But not really seeing a single face.
Trying to both remember and forget,
Wishing they knew now only what they knew then.
Searching for a shard of resemblance
Of a happier time.

This is where she shall drift,
Disappointed, desolate, 
Disenchanted.

Gratitude 

Thanks for picking me up and carrying my when I was down. I blog about my pain, heartache, and troubles a lot – I often forget to acknowledge the overwhelming support I have. It would be an understatement to simply say I was “lucky”. This was no luck of the draw. I am blessed and eternally grateful for the people who walked into my life and never left. Practicing gratitude humbles our struggles. Make a point to do this more every day.

Thank you SC; CLB; RN; ACN; EG; TK; FC; EM; PW; RC; AEM; WC; SP; AV; DRB.

People say when it comes to friendship, it is better to have 4 quarters rather than 100 pennies. I am grateful to have so many people who support me, who are all worth more than their weight in gold.

I am grateful for the people I have only met within the past few months, who were kind enough to listen, value my friendship and remained in my life. I am so grateful for their willingness to have open and honest conversations and withholding judgement, instead replacing it with genuine curiosity. I’m grateful for the people who spoke to me and were open to me, even if it wasn’t always easy.

I am grateful for the family who stand by me no matter what and listen non judgementally, and respond with love and honestly. Words can’t express the gratitude I have. I may have had many difficult experiences with people, my diagnosis, and my self image, but I was given the most supportive people imaginable to be my closest support network. I am especially grateful for my parents for being so calm and open about my situation. I am always afraid to tell them when I relapse, yet they always respond with nothing but warmth, love, and concern. I am grateful for my sister and cousin, two of my best friends. I am grateful for their love, ambition, and honesty. I love the unconditional support they give to me; the support that I am eagerly willing to return.

I’m grateful for the girls I work with or went to school with, who have come to be like family: always supportive, always a shoulder to cry on, always a friendly pair of listening ears. Their unique and distinct personalities all provide me with insight from many perspectives, and though they are all very different, their love is all equally strong and supportive of not only me but each other. I’m grateful to be surrounded by such intelligent, caring, genuine women. They are an inspiration and after many difficult experiences in my past, they showed the profound impact of women sticking together and supporting each other unconditionally. I am not only inspired by the times where we were loving and supportive, but also by times of conflict. They always proved my fears wrong, and our friendship always shone through.

I am grateful for my guy best friends from home, who each lend me their own unique perspectives. Again, they are all very different, but they are all the same in their love, concern, and friendship. They are all the protective brothers that I never had, each offering their insight when it comes to my boy problems. After the experiences I have had with previous boyfriends, I have come to realize that love is not only the one who is in a romantic relationship with you. Love is also undying support, the strength of friendship, and wanting the best for one another. I have many perceptions and suspicions about boys, but I also need to remember that they are not all like the ones who have hurt me.

Having BPD is hard. Having depression is hard. Being chronically suicidal is hard. But I have come to realize that my pain and suffering has brought out the good in so many people. It has given all these people the chance to shine and it has given me the privilege of watching them do so. It has attracted the biggest hearts and the most genuinely wonderful people. I honestly do think that my friends are truly good human beings. After having so much love in my life, it has made it easier and easier to shut out toxic people. Thank you all for being there for me; I sincerely hope I have given as much to you as you have given to me.

My favourite colour is

Tw self harm 

Remember that blade I took? The one I wanted to take for a long time? I used it. And it was so sharp. It cut deeper than I thought it would. The blood was everywhere. Everywhere. No one else will want me now. You said you were my friend. You said you’d be there for me. And then you fucked me over. Deny as much as you want but you fucked me over. You’re a shitty friend. You’re a shitty person. It’s deeper than I thought. Oh God, it’s deeper than I thought. I can’t stop the blood. Just a light graze leaves a mark. What if I press harder? It doesn’t matter I can’t feel a thing. I can’t stop. Even though purple is usually my favorite, today, right now, it is red. Red is my favorite colour. And I want more. I love red. The colour that flows out of my body. I love it. Let me pull it out until my vision fades; until my there’s nothing more. Until I’m pale and drained. Until I’m dry and decaying. Red is so beautiful. Yet I am not. Take the beauty out of my body. Separate it from my ugly soul. Let the red stain my sheets and let it bring beauty to my surroundings. Drain it from my veins; drain it from my arteries.
17. 17. Seventeen. 10+7. Only 17 of them. Only 17 sources of beautiful red. Maybe more soon. Who knows? Who cares. 

Worthy

Know your worth.
Know that you, just as everyone else, is worthy of love.
Don’t let yourself stay with someone who wants to be with another
When all you want is to be wanted by someone who only wants you.
When she leaves, and you remain as his remaining crutch,
The only shoulder to cry on
You will always be wondering
What if she stayed?

Go ahead and cover the walls of your glass room with pictures of a fantasy.
Paint the insides of your eyelids with what you want to see
And tell yourself that you’re fine. That this is what you wanted.
Look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re in control
And then force yourself to feel what you think you should feel.
Live in your false comfort.

Dream, imagine, and hope all you want
But know it does not have to be this way. 

Not as long as you believe you are worthy.