BPD is a bitch
I have several mental health diagnoses; chronic depression, major depressive disorder, severe anxiety, PTSD and the last one, BPD. BPD is Borderline Personality Disorder, which is just as fucking lovely as it sounds. It's characterized by extremely labile emotions, intense ups and downs, rage issues and an inability to control those issues.
Ding ding ding ding!
I don't usually talk about the mental issues anymore, cause what good does it do? I am who and what I am, and I've spent all my life living with my brain. I know it, I know it's tricks and it's machinations and I call it on it's bullshit whenever I am aware. But BPD was always a side issue to the depression, and I always ascribed my anger and mood disorder to depression -surprise, it has it's own disorder.
Unlike depression and it's minions, which I've learned to live with, BPD likes to gut punch me with it's own set of landmines, and though you would think I'd be ready for them, nope. Not so. They sneak in and body slam me, then get up, dust off their hands (or tentacles) and shuffle away, leaving me on the mat wondering what in the everloving FUCK just happened.