Just because they say they understand, doesn't mean they do. Just because they texts emojis, and kind words, doesn't mean those sentiments are actually reciprocated. Just because you're good at your job, doesn't mean you're not at risk of being fired. I lost my job. This isn't to say that I'm unemployed, but I lost… Continue reading Lessons
Every year, I tell myself things will get better. They never do. The pain is endless, and I am mostly left feeling distraught. As 2011 ended, depression had a firm grasp over me, and anorexia was beginning to infest my soul. By 2012, all the behaviours of my eating disorder had appeared; excessive exercise, calorie… Continue reading New Year, Old Me
People keep asking me if I'm okay and, quite frankly, I don't know what to say. Do I smile as usual, resist the urge to smirk, as if my emotions are connected to my self-worth? Or do I say what I'm thinking, as I'm collapsing, confess to myself and to them I'm relapsing? Into what,… Continue reading People keep asking – A Poem
I slipped. I broke down. I went to emergency, where, just like humpty dumpty, they glued me back together again. (FYI the glue didn't hold a day. I was insisting on stitches, but the doctor wouldn't listen) I don't have any words. I don't know what I'm supposed to write here anymore. It's not that… Continue reading Humpty Dumpty
There were many things I have told myself I would never do. I never thought I would let myself gain weight, but I have been physically recovered from anorexia for two years now. I never thought I would self harm, but now I have a body covered in the scars of my self-destruction. I never… Continue reading Returning from the irreversible
Not sleeping. Not eating properly. Discovering alcohol. Which, as it turns out, makes me 1) not sleep, and 2) suppresses my appetite. So it's both a problem (because I'm more exhausted than ever) and a solution (because I don't want to eat anyway). Self-harming to punish myself for not eating properly and discovering alcohol. My… Continue reading Some Struggles of Late
Alcohol. In that single word I can see all of the mistakes I've made in under a month. I have been sober my entire life, despite growing up in a town with a heavy drinking culture, despite desperately wanting to fit in at university where it seems damaging your liver remains the best way to… Continue reading Whoops, guess what I discovered?
When I was in high school, I went through several severe stressors all at roughly the same time. First, I was already suffering from anorexia nervosa, which isn't exactly a great way to kick things off. Then I was bullied incessantly. And by incessantly, well fuck. I was physically and verbally abused every single day, from 8… Continue reading That thing I never talk about
More noticeably than ever have I been noticing the pull of polarisation that BPD brings. It comes with an anxious tremor, and a silliness fringing on hypomania, and impulsivity and outrageousness. But it also comes with dark thoughts and dark urges and the lure of punishments desecrated across my skin. Tonight I have experienced every… Continue reading Earlier.
There's a problem with living with borderline personality disorder: it doesn't make things easy for me. There I was, one week ago, the happiest four days I have experienced potentially ever in my life, and here I am, one week later, back to that dark pit I know only too well. There I was, my… Continue reading What Goes Up Must Come Down