HOW TO DESTROY A GIRLS SELF ESTEEM

TW: this post talks about/alludes to emotional abuse, suicide and sexual assault

  1. Target a vulnerable girl. Someone shy, already slightly insecure, depressed. Get her to open up to you. Shower her with attention and flattery. Write songs for her. Serenade her. Show her grand gestures of love. Make her feel beautiful and worth loving.
  2. As soon as she has completely fallen for your trap, lie to her. Start reconnecting with your ex girlfriends and flirting with other girls. Tell her she’s possessive and clingy if she expresses discomfort. Hide your activity and sneak around behind her back. To really make it sting, be just a little careless – enough for her to find some information to be suspicious, but not enough for her to be certain.
  3. When she asks you about any of these things, lie. Even if you weren’t doing anything wrong. Lie to make her question everything you say. If she sees text messages between you and another girl, delete them and show her your phone again. Make her question her own sanity.
  4. Always be looking at pictures of other girls. Sometimes people you know, sometimes random models on the internet. Talk about how hot these girls are. Make lewd comments and lust over them openly in front of her. “Like”  every photo you do this to. This will condition her to remember your reaction everytime she sees a guy like a picture of an attractive girl. The beauty of this is that you can then tell her she’s being jealous and clingy. And every future guy will say the same because they won’t know this happened.
  5. Show her pictures. Tell her how hot she would be if she only looked like those girls. If she had bigger breasts. If she worked out and got a little more muscular. If she just gained a little weight. Say it in a lighthearted tone, as if it’s a compliment. Once the seed is planted, there will always be a part of her wondering if she is being compared to others.
  6. Pressure her to sexually gratify you. Make her feel bad if she doesn’t. Compare her to other girls you’ve been with. Make it seem like what you’re asking for is normal – she’s the anomaly, she’s the frigid one. Guilt her. Manipulate her. If all else fails, remember you’re a lot stronger than her – just hold her down and do your thing.
  7. When she breaks up with you, make her pay for it. You know she is scared to open up about her depression because she fears she will “infect” the people she loves. So make her think you two are okay. Then all of a sudden, call her up one night and scream and yell and call her every name in the book. Tell her she should be ashamed because now you’re depressed and suicidal and it’s all her fault. Tell her you’re going to self harm and kill yourself and it will be all her fault. You know she can’t hang up the phone, so she stays up making sure you’re okay while you tell her how awful she is under a guise of hurt and self victimization.
  8. After she finally escapes you, isolate her from all her friends. She has opened up about all her fears and flaws. Use these against her. Make yourself look like the victim. Make sure she has nobody. Make sure the rumors about her keep spreading.
  9. She’ll find new friends. She’ll move on and meet someone new. No worries, there’s other ways you can try to control her. Send her anonymous messages over text, Facebook, and on her blog. Taunt her and harass her by threatening to talk to her father, sister, or current boyfriend. She’ll block you, but be persistent.
  10. Last ditch effort – smear her name. Make a fake Facebook and email under her name and try to turn people against her. She will be terrified because she suspects it’s you, but she doesn’t know for sure.
  11. Over the next couple years, message her anonymously. Say encouraging things to her! Typical stuff like, “Happy New Year! Hope this is the year you finally kill yourself!” or offhand comments about her outfit or what she’s doing. This will make her feel on edge. She will constantly be looking over her shoulder or peeking out of windows, unsure of who’s watching her. She will be paranoid and afraid.
  12. Eventually you will give up the game, but don’t worry. The damage has been done. Even years later, she will still have these reactions ingrained in her. When she’s in a healthy, happy, consensual relationship she will sporadically remember how it felt when you forced yourself on her, feel a huge wave of dread and need to lock herself in the bathroom crying. She will always be actively fighting the nagging voice in her head saying, if only you looked more like her. If only you were prettier, fitter, curvier… She will always be suspicious of guys motives. She will self destruct and sabotage relationships with people who truly care for her.

Congratulations! After wasting years bitterly holding a grudge, stalking, harrassing, and intimidating her, you’ve done it. Was it worth it?

Termites

Tunnelled through my brain

Scratched away at my skull 

Hollowed out my insides 

Sucked me dry of energy 

Happiness 

And hope. 

Burrowed through my marrow 

Pierced through my skin. 

Now ugly outside as I felt inside,

I ran for shelter.

In the security of open arms and broken silence, 

I finally closed my eyes. 

Restless, turbulent, but nevertheless, sleep. 

In the morning, to my horror, I saw the people around me 

Grey, diseased, 

Empty. 

I closed my eyes. 

11.6.15

This was written after a very vivid dream I had of this happening. I used to be afraid of seeking help because I believed I would hurt the people around me. 

Ruined

Back when we kept pictures in photo albums,
We stored memories behind plastic covers or glass panes.
In fear of misplacing or wrecking them,
We kept them tucked away somewhere safe.

Over time, corners would fold
Edges would crumple or become stained by spilled tea,
But these memories were protected, more or less.
They remained far away. Separate from us.
They remained where they should be – in the past.

Now, in the age of newsfeeds and numbers
They never leave us;
Easily accessible reminders of what we’ve lost.
Photos are crumpled by obsession
Memories are stained by emotion.

23.4.16

Stigma hits like a ton of bricks

Warning: mentions of self-harm and suicide

Stigma surrounding mental illness can lead to devastating  consequences. People have lost their jobs, been shunned by their loved ones, or abandoned. Me, being as na├»ve as I was, thought that stigma was mainly an issue in the general population. Silly me, thinking that doctors would be trained in treating various medical problems in an unbiased manner.

2 years ago, I was woken up by my mother one morning. She told me that my cousin and best friend (basically my sister) was in the hospital because she had attempted suicide. Fortunately, she got the help she needed. I was angry. Really angry. Not at her, of course. Angry because this was another reminder of how things could have gone for me, if the stigma wasn’t there.

Similarly, about 5 years ago, I also landed myself in the hospital. When I finally got to see a doctor, the first thing I remember was him asking general questions about my life and how I was feeling. He seemed a little rushed and abrupt, but still nice enough. I was already on edge, and feeling uneasy. I remember thinking, there are actually people dying and seriously injured and I’m wasting his time. I need to get out of here. Why am I even here?

He asked me if I had an “official diagnosis.” I told him I was diagnosed with depression… oh, and also that other thing – borderline personality disorder. The second that came out of my mouth, I knew something was wrong. I froze over as I watched his demeanor completely change. He gave me a smug smile that will unfortunately always be branded into my memory and asked, “do you agree with that diagnosis?”

Excuse me? I was completely taken off guard, I didn’t even expect being asked that. I didn’t even really know much about it. When I was initially diagnosed, I latched onto the diagnosis of depression because I knew what it was. So truthfully I didn’t know much about BPD. I didn’t even know what stigmas were associated with BPD.

When I gave him a hesitant “yes”, he began interrogating me. “Are you sure? Do you even know the symptoms of BPD? Do you agree with the diagnosis?” I just kept saying yes, hoping he’d let me go. He laughed. Then he said, “huh, that’s really funny. People with BPD usually don’t agree with their diagnosis.”

At this point I was overwhelmed and confused and I was sobbing and I kept saying to him, “why are you saying that?! What are you doing? Do you think I’m lying? What do you want me to say?”

He called me melodramatic. He downplayed my self harm scars. I felt trapped by this doctor, who seemed to want nothing more than to prove that all my problems were trivial.

I don’t even know how long I was there, but by the end I felt like I had aged. I felt a little more weary, and a lot more broken. At the end he knelt down so he was eye to eye with me, and said, “now, we aren’t going to see you back here again right?”

No. I’m not coming back next time. Next time I’m suicidal I am definitely just going to kill myself. That’s for sure.

And that’s what I really felt. The hospital was my last resort to save myself and this interaction proved that people like me, people with BPD, apparently do not deserve that treatment. Thank goodness my parents arrived. Thank goodness they are as supportive as they are. Thank goodness they acted quickly and put my mental health first. They hid away all my pills and sharp objects. They watched me day and night. I am so grateful.

After this happened, I immediately began researching more about BPD. I found so many heartbreaking posts. “Borderline Personality: The Disorder That Doctors Fear Most” published in TIME magazine. Individuals with BPD are “manipulative” or “drama queens”. They ruin the lives of everyone around them. People in relationships with them need to be saved. They are lost causes that can never be helped.

Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is often viewed in negative terms by mental health practitioners and the public. The disorder may have a stigma associated with it that goes beyond those associated with other mental illnesses. The stigma associated with BPD may affect how practitioners tolerate the actions, thoughts, and emotional reactions of these individuals. It may also lead to minimizing symptoms and overlooking strengths.

Source: Borderline personality disorder, stigma, and treatment options. Aviram et al., 2006.

There has been incredible progress over reducing stigma surrounding depression and anxiety. There are a lot of people speaking out, celebrities and role models speaking out. But we don’t have that for BPD. I don’t have someone I look up to who has gone through BPD. Whenever I read on forums where people discuss relationships, do you know how disheartening it is to read comments like, “what a fucking psycho, she definitely has BPD”?

Like I said before, when I looked into my BPD diagnosis, a lot of things fell into place. I was mistreated because the doctor made assumptions about me, my motives, and my character based on the stigma surrounding BPD. These stigmas are not me. But because they exist, I was stomped on by a healthcare system that was supposed to save me.

Depression and that other thing

Warning: mentions of suicide, self-harm. 

Disclaimer: I am expressing myself creatively here, but I want to make it very clear that I am not romanticizing mental illness or self harm. If you find yourself reading this in a tragically beautiful heroic voice, stop it. Right now.

What if I told you I have been diagnosed with an illness that kills up to 1 in 10 of patients? That’s an alarming statistic. If I told you it was some sort of congenital disease or cancer, you would see me as someone who is a fighter; someone strong and determined. Unfortunately, my illness is of the mind. Unfortunately, my illness is so lethal because it drives patients to complete suicide. Unfortunately, no one cares like they would if it were a physical illness. 

I feel like I’ve always had this eerie grim aura following me around as long as I remember. When I was 7, I would lie in my bed and worry about people who were sad or suffering. I cried because all I wanted was to be able to take everyone’s pain, hide it inside of me, and disappear. When I was 12 I would write exams or finish projects and wonder, what’s the point of this? I’ll probably kill myself before I graduate high school. I went through a large part of childhood waiting for my inevitable suicide. It was almost like a grimly ironic safety blanket I always held with me.

Through high school and university, the blanket became larger and larger until I realized I was suffocating. The depression became less of a wave in the background of my mind and more like sharp, jarring lightning bolts. It was an exhausting roller coaster, to say the least. Some days I would be overcome with intense suicidal thoughts for an hour, sometimes even less, and then be perfectly fine after. The lightning bolts were so intense and fast that I didn’t even have time to figure out a coping mechanism. All I could do to cope was numbing and dissociating. The lightning became more intense and more frequent. I had panic attacks in fear that I would be struck at any moment.

The lightning would disappear as quickly as it appeared, but the numbing and dissociation lingered. Eventually I felt constantly separate from my body. I went from feeling too much emotion all the time to feeling nothing. I started cutting to bring myself back to reality. Sometimes reality would be too overwhelming and then I would cut to distract myself from reality. I kept falling from one lose-lose situation into another. There would be days where I would lay in bed, unable to move, afraid of what I might do to myself.

I was already diagnosed with depression and borderline personality disorder. The latter I completely ignored because I felt like “depression” was a good enough explanation and BPD was never really explained to me anyway. This ignorance didn’t do me any good. I started thinking how this didn’t feel like depression. I tried searching for answers and started losing my mind. I don’t think I have depression. I think I’m just crazy. What the hell is wrong with me?  The answer was right under my nose. Once I realized that, everything fell into place.

Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a serious mental disorder marked by a pattern of ongoing instability in moods, behavior, self-image, and functioning. These experiences often result in impulsive actions and unstable relationships. A person with BPD may experience intense episodes of anger, depression, and anxiety that may last from only a few hours to days.

Some people with BPD also have high rates of co-occurring mental disorders, such as mood disorders, anxiety disorders, and eating disorders, along with substance abuse, self-harm, suicidal thinking and behaviors, and suicide.

– NIMH website

How to be a pillar

Disclaimer: I am not an architect. Is pillar even the right term? I don’t know.

A few days ago I finished watching “13 Reasons Why”. I won’t give any spoilers, but it is a show about a girl who committed suicide (this is revealed in the first episode) giving her 13 reasons why she did it. I realize how difficult it is to live with mental illness, but it can be just as difficult to see someone you love struggle. You may not know what to do or say, and that makes you feel even more hopeless.

I don’t think I can articulate just how grateful I am for my support system (my pillars). I have no doubt in my mind that if it weren’t for them, I would have been long gone by now. If someone you love is struggling and you don’t know how you can help, I hope this can give you some insight and guidance. Here is a (very condensed) breakdown of what I feel helped me the most.

  1. A warm and supportive environment free of judgement. I felt like I could open up to my parents. When I did, they remained calm. When I showed them my self-harming scars, they didn’t get angry. They listened and embraced me when I cried. When I felt I was ready, they took me to my GP who then referred me to a psychiatrist. That was the start of my journey to recovery.
  2. Open conversation free of judgement. My friends and family let me speak about what I was going through and didn’t treat me any differently. They didn’t tiptoe around me afterwards (which I know would have made me feel worse and even more of a burden).
  3. Validation (free of judgement). Validation is to recognize or affirm that someones feelings are, essentially, valid. I was once surrounded by people who told me I was “crazy” or “overreacting” and this was such a damaging, invalidating environment to be in.

Individuals with mental illnesses are often having very understandable reactions to their circumstances. It could be an inability to regulate emotions, imbalanced chemicals in their brain, or a traumatic past. People don’t feel suicidal, hurt themselves, or withdraw because they want to.