The general Consensus
Three. I've now had Three Psychiatrists tell me that they think I have mild to moderate Borderline Personality Disorder. The last one to do so said that I was possibly on the milder end of the spectrum at this point in my treatment/life. I've been researching it a little and I have to say... It's actually kind of fitting. Borderlines tend to get away with a lot of stuff, because they're pretty manipulative and genuinely don't care about the consequences; unfortunately, that sounds a lot like me. I can be intensely manipulative, but I'm not, I just don't like getting in trouble; so, I talk my way out of a lot of stuff. I've always been good at that, I don't know... People in my life just said that I had the 'gift of the gab', which is a nicer way of saying 'manipulative snot' I think.
am·biv·a·lence
-noun
1.
uncertainty or fluctuation, esp. when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.
2.
Psychology. the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.
This is supposed to be a fairly broad summation of what B.P.D. is. One word is never really enough though. Sometimes I love who I am, sometimes I want to destroy myself with every ounce of strength that I can muster. It's an exhausting merry-go-round. The really messed up thing is that the closer I get to piecing myself back together, the more memories come flooding back in. I mean, I remembered the whole Alex thing back from when I was 4-5 (I was going into kindergarten the following fall to the event), but I tucked it away and never really brought it back out. I never really looked at it and dissected the event, digested it for what it really was. I don't have any hard feelings towards him, because he was a little kid too, only 2 years older than me I think, so really? He had no clue what he was doing; however, that doesn't mean that it didn't fracture a part of my identity. When your first unwanted sexual experience is at 4 years old it kind of sets the tone for how you view yourself, and your self worth.
I broke down in tears one night a few weeks ago and told my mom about it, it was the first time that I had even really realized what happened. Kids will be kids, but it wasn't just that to me. Finally seeing the giant 'M' on your forehead is pretty devastating. These things that I remember, but I don't, they keep coming back into focus.
I kind of like one symptom of the B.P.D. though, the detachment; it makes things easier. People leave, it doesn't hurt. People hurt you, you don't care. You leave before they leave you, no tears. It's incredibly isolating at times, but I firmly believe that you can only ever really rely on yourself. It gets lonely, but I would honestly rather feel a constant mild hurt and isolation as opposed to being shattered every time someone walks on my heart. When it comes to an authentic emotional attachment, I'm kind of robotic; but, there are times when it's better than others.
am·biv·a·lence
-noun
1.
uncertainty or fluctuation, esp. when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.
2.
Psychology. the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.
This is supposed to be a fairly broad summation of what B.P.D. is. One word is never really enough though. Sometimes I love who I am, sometimes I want to destroy myself with every ounce of strength that I can muster. It's an exhausting merry-go-round. The really messed up thing is that the closer I get to piecing myself back together, the more memories come flooding back in. I mean, I remembered the whole Alex thing back from when I was 4-5 (I was going into kindergarten the following fall to the event), but I tucked it away and never really brought it back out. I never really looked at it and dissected the event, digested it for what it really was. I don't have any hard feelings towards him, because he was a little kid too, only 2 years older than me I think, so really? He had no clue what he was doing; however, that doesn't mean that it didn't fracture a part of my identity. When your first unwanted sexual experience is at 4 years old it kind of sets the tone for how you view yourself, and your self worth.
I broke down in tears one night a few weeks ago and told my mom about it, it was the first time that I had even really realized what happened. Kids will be kids, but it wasn't just that to me. Finally seeing the giant 'M' on your forehead is pretty devastating. These things that I remember, but I don't, they keep coming back into focus.
I kind of like one symptom of the B.P.D. though, the detachment; it makes things easier. People leave, it doesn't hurt. People hurt you, you don't care. You leave before they leave you, no tears. It's incredibly isolating at times, but I firmly believe that you can only ever really rely on yourself. It gets lonely, but I would honestly rather feel a constant mild hurt and isolation as opposed to being shattered every time someone walks on my heart. When it comes to an authentic emotional attachment, I'm kind of robotic; but, there are times when it's better than others.