BPD · Emotions · suicide · Writing

(Barely) Hanging on

I wrote this tonight while feeling extremely depressed and hopeless. I’ve had a rough time lately, haven’t posted anything here for ages and don’t know if I’m going to anywhere in the near future. I’m just trying to survive life and not doing a great job at it at the moment. Recognizing the extreme changes in my mood and the way I handle my emotions, particularly what comes to relationships and rejection have made me wonder if I have what was previously referred to as borderline personality disorder. I think it has been renamed but I can’t remember the other term for it now. I seem to like self-diagnosing myself (like with dyspraxia most recently) but everything I’ve read just really makes sense, and explains why at times I seem like such an atypical aspie in certain aspects of my behavior. Time for a new diagnosis? It would explain so much.

What if I told you that with time it has only got worse?

They say time heals, but I am worse than I was before.

I have sunk deeper, and I don’t see a way to get out.

Everything I used to believe in, seems further and further away.

Those moments of feeling hopeful are getting fewer.

The happy memories of feeling cared for and of believing that I’m lovable are fading away.

I have started missing work more and more, and have fell behind with my studies.

Even the thing that brought me meaning and hope feels distant now, and doesn’t feel enough to keep me going.

I’ve stopped caring if I eat, drink or get dressed when I wake up.

I lie in bed wishing I didn’t have to face the reality.

I feel like I’m barely living, the only reminder that I am is the pain.

During brief moments of hope I try to get as many things done as possible, and clean the whole house. Then I buy lots of things online and book appointments and feel like I am making progress by controlling these external things in my life.

I try not to think about money, or the bills I am due to be paying in the next weeks. I won’t think about it today, because I don’t care. I live for the brief moments of achievement, hanging onto the only moments when I feel like I am in control.

I don’t understand my mood, how it can change so suddenly, one moment making me do things like a robot, functioning and planning, telling people ‘I’m feeling better today, I’ll be ok, I am doing things and managing’, and the next switching to, what I now see as ‘the reality’, this black hole I see no way out of.

It just hits me, and suddenly I see things as they are again, scary, hopeless, beyond repair. No words can convince me what I’m feeling isn’t true. The pain is real, and it’s telling me I’ve had enough.

I’ve tried so hard and I can’t do it anymore. I was not made for this world, it’s too much for me.

If I could only ask for one thing I’d ask to feel how I felt with you for a little while. When you told me nice things, and in those moments, I believed I was lovable, I believed I could be happy and excited for what the future will bring. If I could just hold onto those moments and only feel that way again.

What if I told you that right now, all I can think of is that if Heaven does exist, I hope I can feel that way again there. That this pain will be gone, and that all I will know is love and hope.

I am hanging on to this thought, and looking at the boxes of pills in my room. But I am scared.

What if you tried to tell me that you miss me and asked to meet me for a coffee.

What if someone then told you that she is not here anymore.

I put the pills away, and decide to wait one more day. Maybe tomorrow you will ask me, and if I’m not here anymore then I will never know.

I hang on to that thought and decide to write another list, because maybe tomorrow I will have a sudden burst of energy again and feel like ‘I’m okay, don’t worry about me’ again.

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