I’m going out on a limb and putting this out for all to read while I am very frustrated and pissed off beyond belief. Chances are, you may think that I am just upset and will cool off. Think again. These thoughts are always on my mind I just avoid speaking them. Not anymore.
I am sick to death of the stigma related to mental health issues. “Those kind of people are crazy ” stigma. We aren’t fucking crazy at all! The problem is, the incidents and abuse in our lives are not our fault! Most of us deny and try to portray that we are not the victim because of shame and denial. We internally fight admitting who we really are, thinking we can make it go away. We didn’t ask for these issues. We most certainly don’t want to be stereotyped and called crazy, psycho, loony etc. We are not any of the above. In fact, our reality is so real that most “normal” people couldn’t handle what we fight every day.
I have Borderline Personality Disorder. (BPD) A disorder that usually stems from childhood abuse and/or trauma. Most people are diagnosed much earlier in life than I, at just short of 50.
BPD is a mental health disorder that tips between psychotic/neurotic behavior. It causes permanent damage to the pre frontal lobe. It also leaves a permanent imprint on the brain that rarely “goes away.” The treatment? Psychiatric Therapy. DBT ( Dialectical behavioral therapy) and CBT (Cognitive behavioral therapy) another words, every day logical things we use to communicate and interact with others. We’re taught how to “play nice” with other people and how to control our emotions.
Medications can help regulate but the side effects are sometimes more problem than help. For instance, I have eating disorders. One of my meds causes weight gain very rapidly. I gained 17 pounds in one month. When I discussed this with my prescriber, he raised my dose. The following month, I gained even more and he didn’t hesitate to point it out. How the hell does that affect a person with multiple issues including eating disorders?! You fall below the basement then keep falling.
Because we don’t want to be the victim, we spend almost all of time trashing ourselves and blaming ourselves for everything possible. The past, the present and the future we are not sure even exists. We feel transparent, like everyone can see all of our shit just eeking out by looking at us. Like we’re some kind of walking freak show. We’re afraid to go out in the world because people terrify us and we constantly feel like we are being judged.
Then there are other things that send us over the edge, such as people sharing our issues without permission. Finding out in a public place from strangers that it’s OK to be fucked up because it isn’t your fault. You’re just a head case but nobody blames you. WTF?! That has indeed happened to me. I felt like less than nothing in that instant. I also felt an instant rage that painted a picture in my mind so real, I could visualize beating the hell out of some people.
Then there’s the learned disassociation that comes with this disorder. I have had incidents where I have said or done things that I don’t remember or just totally blacked out to avoid the stress in that moment. My eye’s roll up in my head and I go blank.
We can’t forget the pseudo seizures. More lost brain cells. No big deal right? Try coming out of being in a seizure and not knowing who your own kids are. Sounds exciting doesn’t it? It must be my fault right?
How about having a seizure or a blackout and acting like a 3 year old. You don’t remember, but later you get to see the video in front of anyone and everyone who will watch it. Yeah. That’s happened too. Guess I asked for that too?
I can’t go shopping or drive alone because of the panic and anxiety attacks. I never know when I am going to “bleep” out. If I am even a little stressed, I have to someone around to tell me watch my tongue as I have been known to get set off and let people have an earful for no obvious reason. Again, makes me look crazy. I try to consciously control these things but I can’t always do that.
Next comes the suicidal ideation and the suicidal intentions. The depression, anxiety and anger are too much for one brain like mine. Everything is exaggerated. If a kid is being noisy at a level 1 or 2, it sounds like an 8 to me. My brain feels chaotic and loud. It’s hard to regain control and after a few days, I think things would be better if I weren’t here at all.
PTSD is unreal for us. If someone moves wrong, speaks wrong or sets us off, things can quickly get out of control. Sleeping is joke. Constantly reliving something in your dreams or sometimes just a big crazy mess all at once that not even you understand. During the day, you can be fine one minute and crying or ready to hurt someone the next. Loud sounds cannot be handled. Certain smells send you into a tailspin. It’s an awesome experience.
Even with all of the above, we are not crazy. All of this stems from all too real events. I am trying to repair a lifetime of abuse. My story starts at age 6 and I caught a few breaks, but most of my life has been destroyed by the hands of others. I have tried to deny. Fight. Give up. Pretend. Everything has become just facts. That way, it doesn’t hurt so much. I say that out loud, but the truth is, I’m not fooling myself. I am hurt. Angry. Seemingly broken ( in my mind) in ways that I will never get back. I’m afraid. I can’t trust. I love people with all of my heart unconditionally yet, I can’t stand people either. This is who I am. A fucked up freak trapped in my own mind.
The first big incident that my disassociation really appeared was in November of 2018. I had small incidents before but nothing like this. I remember it being 9:30 in the morning, standing in the kitchen. The next thing I remember is again, standing in the kitchen at 12:30 with my house torn apart. Wondering what the hell happened. Apparently, I had torn my house apart looking for a gun to kill myself. We don’t even have a gun here. I had talked with a friend during this event and told her what I was doing. She got to me as soon as she could. There I was. Not dressed. Every room totally trashed. I have no recollection of either incident but I know it happened.
So you know what? I’m a mental health freak. I fall into the stigma that society is so afraid of. I fight every day just to live. I am well aware of my issues and I control them the best I can. Given all that I battle through eating disorders, anxiety, major depression, suicidal ideation/ high risk to commit, blunt force trauma, ptsd and borderline personality disorder w/ loss of parts of my brain, all at the hands of others, I function pretty damn well. I check into the behavioral unit about once a year because I cave in and can’t function. I take my meds, attend all of my therapies. I do the best I can for what I have been given.
I’m also a kind, empathetic, caring, decent human. I give back to the community. I take care of my family. I still believe in hope, love and a better future. I am a beautiful human in my own right. So before you start judging people with mental health issues and throwing us under the bus, try to understand us. Help us work through the ugly days and live life to the fullest on our good days. We are not broken, crazy or unlovable. Life hasn’t been kind to us yet we keep trying. Trying to be our best normal.
So instead of labeling us, calling us names or bothering to research says to help us. Please educate yourself, quit looking the other way. Be part of the solution not the problem.
Help end the stigma.
More Love, Less Hate. H