General Reflections on BPD

This was the comment that Linda, a 42 year old woman with BPD, who was diagnosed 8 years ago wanted to share:

"One of the paradoxes about BPD is that nonBPD people tend to see us as self-centered, when in reality, the opposite is true - many of our problems stem from not paying enough attention to ourselves, not putting ourselves at the center of our lives, not knowing we deserve to live and to be happy, and just generally habitually abandoning ourselves. I find it very irritating that people seem to think we are doing whatever we want at the expense of others, when most of us would be only too happy to know what we want and to feel entitled enough to it that we go after it no matter what others think."

Linda

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What follows are cuts from the diary of a borderline:

"Cuts from my journal":

I feel like a shadow on a cloudy day.
   even when the sun is shining I am more
   or less insubstantial.  
   Whenever a cloud
   passes in front of the Sun, I am gone.
   The story of my life.
Feb 18th, 1995
A TIGHTLY CLENCHED FIST!
Feb 19th, 1995
When It Feels part II

Time moves
        slowly
        when I feel
        not as others
        must.

Empty of all feeling. Nothing. Just time moving.

Mar 4th, 1995

I'm getting bored alot now. I wonder if anyone here (the hospital) would understand a person wanting to hurt themselves just to relieve the bordom. When I'm feeling physical pain it somehow proves my own existence and eases the deadening sameness. When I'm hurt I'm feeling something other than "time moving"...

There's a restlessness building inside of me. Good or bad I want something to happen. I'm even willing to do something "bad" to make it happen...

Mar 5th, 1995

The doctor says I've probably read more about BPD than he has. That is not encouraging.

Mar 9th, 1995

"When It Feels"part III

anger, and crying, and sadness, and dying, and boredom, nail biting, nightmares, and fighting, and feeling, and thinking, and breathing, and drinking, and pain hurts... ...when it feels.

Mar 9th, 1995

I don't want this pain anymore. I don't want this hurt anymore. I don't want these thoughts anymore. I don't want to want anymore.

Mar 11th, 1995

"This Is Not A Poem"

There is no poetry in loneliness.
There is no happiness in being alone.
There is no solace in tears.
This is pain.
Mar 12th, 1995
The sun shines down and I am sad.  The weather is
warmer, the birds are singing and the promise of
spring feels like an impending burden.  I want to
be happy.  I want the rising temperature to signal
something more than a seasonal change.  There should
be a renewal of hope.  The Japanese would probably
call this "the poignancy of things".  I call it hell.


Mar 15th, 1995
I think I've been happy before.
I think sunny days have reaised my spirits and cheery songs have made
me smile.  I think all of these things must have
been but I can't trust my thinking, can I? 
Hopes and wishes all feel empty and my memories make me
want to cry.  This is so hard!

Apr 9th, 1995

There are things in the corner of my mind.
I should know. 
I put them there.
They are dangerous, happy, sad things.
I think.
I don't know
But I should. 
I put them there.
They come out of their own bidding.
And they make the air heavy and dead.
That awful silence before a storm.
And they make the air raging and violent.
A hurricane of thundering emotions.
When the air is deadened I hurt myself
Maybe I am dead too?  The pain says I'm not.
When the air rages I hit walls.
Maybe someone will notice and shelter me
    from the storm?...
When the closet door is closed, I am scared.
Maybe it will open soon?
When the closet door is open, I am scared.
Maybe it will never shut?
There is a bottle of pills inside my stomach.
I should know.  I put them there.
I put them there to make me die.
That way I won't have to think.
About deadened silence.
And raging storms.
That's what I tell myself, anyway.
Maybe the true answer lies buried,
hidden there,
amongst the things,
In the closet of my mind.

Apr 11th, 1995

Jeff B.

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