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. 

You could never understand 

TW SELF HARM SUICIDE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS

You could never, ever understand how it is to be at this point. To be consumed by all the reasons why you’re damaged. To have an intense surge of insight, where the swirling fog of uncertainty and fear disappears. Clear as the day, the only thing visible is the thought that things will never change.

You’ll never understand the simultaneous relief to have an answer and despair at the prospect of staying this way forever. Not just pain, it’s suffering.

I no longer feel as if I have a hole inside of me. I feel like there is an inescapable vacuum that sucks up any good that I produce or that others bring to me.

I don’t think you’ll ever understand – I hope you never understand. I hope you never understand the feeling of lying on your bed eyeing that ultra sharp blade you’ve scavenged after many nights of resisting temptation. Wanting to cut so deep you need stitches, to lose so much blood you pass out and maybe never wake up.

I’m so beaten and broken down, actually dying would just be a formality.