In my last post I briefly mentioned that living with a mental illness is a full time situation. This is something I'm keenly aware of and extra sensitive about. People -- my friends, family etc -- seem to think it's not an all the time gig. Perhaps they misunderstand the good moments and assume the worst is over. Whatever their reasons I really don't know.
So let me reiterate something; having a mental illness is not like a 9-5 job that you can go home from or leave behind at the end of the day. We live with the mental illness 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. There is no tea break or lunch break, there is no shutting down the computer and leaving all the troubles behind. There is only me, all the time.
Of course there are times when I can manage my illness and appear like nothing was ever wrong. Don't let me fool you, I'm still hurting and I'm still battling to manage every bloody detail. I have to find the strength every single day to keep up the "good" fight. Every day brings new battles, new scars and new experiences. Some people may revel in this excitement and in being constantly challenged and pushed. I truly envy them.
For me the battle is mostly ignoring the underlying voice in my head. That little voice that whispers constantly and always tries to derail my good attempts at being "better" that day. But that's not even the best bit! The best bit -- and from what I understand this is true of most BPD patients -- is that I don't even know that the voice is whispering away until I start to feel upset and can't seem to figure out why? It's insidious and can be terrifying. One minute I'm laughing away and the next I can be on the verge of tears with no understanding of why I'm so upset.
I guess it's like my brain is a magic bag that will pull out weird, fun, strange and crazy things almost for the shock value. In fact you may have noticed before now that my brain and I are rather detached, well as much as one can be detached from their own brain. Some people will argue this is part of the problem. Perhaps it is and perhaps it isn't.
Every single day is dangerous for me. Thoughts of suicide are constant even when I have a smile on my face. It's not a cry for attention since I don't tell people that I feel like death all the time. Instead I attempt to look for other -- less confronting -- things to make others feel more at peace. I may be socially awkward but don't ever assume I'm not thinking about how my comments may upset another.
That brings me to another point, I constantly buffer others from the stark reality of my mental illness. Not just because of the stigma associated with it, but because they may not be able to understand it. And let me tell you, when someone doesn't understand it it becomes very difficult to talk with them again. It's almost painful. I also won't talk about it with people as some have been known to use it against me. Instead of being compassionate or kind some people have turned around and viciously said "well I always knew there was something wrong with her" or "she uses that to explain her stupid behaviour" etc. Firstly, BINGO! I have always been a little different because, yes, I have always had this illness. Secondly, my stupid behaviour is the direct result of my illness, but that doesn't mean I expect everyone to excuse it.
Anyway, I'm faced with lots of strain each day as I attempt to navigate my way through my own misunderstandings and concepts, while I keep you out of it and at the same time fight sad/angry/upset feelings without knowing how or when they appeared.
I'm terribly sorry if I offend you in some way while I'm doing all this every minute of the day. Of course there's even more than I'm doing but I'm not entirely sure I can explain it.
Each and every day is a struggle and it's rarely made easier by myself or other people. Sometimes I look back on a day and wonder how the hell I managed to get through it without screaming or having a breakdown. Sometimes I forget that every day that I live through really is a remarkable victory.
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