bpd, body dysmorphia, depression and people

I apologise if the formatting is weird or if there are mistakes in this one. I wrote it on my iPad and then on my phone, and honestly don’t have the energy to proofread it. Please let this one slide, thanks.

I didn’t think I’d be writing another post so quickly, but sometimes life just gets awfully insane and I get upset. I think it’s very weird how I’m good at talking to people about my life when talking about things that barely matter, but I stay silent about the things that wreak havoc on my system. I think despite all of this talk about honesty and vulnerability and trust, I haven’t really been able to open myself to my people that way. It sucks, but I guess it is what it is.

I think today I want to talk about who I am, and why I am this way. This post is going to be the worst mistake of my life bar none. I am tempted to delete it.

Would you believe me if I told you that I struggle with body dysmorphia? Not sure when it started, but I woke up one day, saw myself in the mirror, heard voices from the past saying so many things and I just started hating food. I think it also had to do with the fact that I was awfully depressed sometime during this period and was just eating a lot of bullshit. I was fit at one point in time, and then suddenly it looked like the most unhealthy, obese person was looking back at me from the mirror and I just stopped eating.

If you know me in real life, you’re probably currently thinking, “What the fuck is she on about,” and honestly, same. It doesn’t make sense to me either, because by normal people's standards, I’m actually fine. Not skinny, but not obese either.

Except, that’s when I hear 2 people who said, “Oh, you’ve gained a bit of fat since you arrived!” Then I hear another person say, “You’ve ruined your body shape. It looks so disproportionate, it’s awful.” I know none of these people had evil intentions, but over the years, their words have stuck and manifested into a terrible relationship with food. I’m pretty sure I have given myself an eating disorder at this point.

It would be nice if it had just stopped there, but there have been comments about my physical appearance in general. “Look at her, she looks like an addict.” “Have you seen your face in the mirror? You look like a dog.” “Look at how her face has darkened.” There are more, I’m sure, but these are the 3 that stick out.

Say something enough times, and I’ll end up believing it.

stuck in a maze and there is no escaping this time. | one of my worst works in recent times.

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While writing this, I got a call from one of the people that said one of these things. I just fought with them, and they called to apologise by not really apologising but trying to be sweet and nice to me. I’ll get over the fight I had with them, but their words will stick and I’ll keep thinking about them until the end of time, using them to punish me because I believe I deserve to suffer.

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Remember how my therapist said that I might be bipolar? The more I think about it, the more unlikely that feels. However, I have a feeling that I might be suffering from borderline personality disorder (BPD). They’re both very similar in their symptoms, but BPD is characterised by more rapid mood swings, unstable intense relationships, an intense fear of abandonment, intense anger, and behaviours of self-harm as a reaction to rejection or separation. There are more symptoms, but I mentioned these because I have struggled with all of them in the last 3 months. However, I do not want to self-diagnose. I hope to get screened soon, though. We’ll see what the shrinks have to say.

My way of solving a problem is by gathering as much information about it as I can before I approach it with a solution. I have been reading more and more literature on mental health, but specifically these disorders, and people’s struggles with them. One of the common things that stick out is how either they, or people around them, view them as insane or crazy. Not people who are sick and just need a little bit of love, support, and kindness, but people who must be avoided at all costs because they burn everything that they touch.

I have been called crazy, and it wasn’t even a joke. People who were fully aware of my diagnosis and my struggles told me that my insanity was too much for them to bear. That they couldn’t handle my craziness and wished they could leave me at an asylum. My own father has said that he wishes that I had never been born. Someone else also told me that being with me was not going to work, because they felt that I was going to hold them back because of how I was doing mentally.

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Every time I am reminded of these situations, I want to scream. I did not ask to be this way. People who I was supposed to be able to trust in my formative years destroyed me and made me this way. I promise, if I could, I would set myself on fire so that I could protect everyone else from me. I do not enjoy constantly cycling through so many emotions as rapidly as I do. It is exhausting and I just wish I could have a break.

I wake up every morning not knowing if I will want to kill myself or save the world. Sometimes I want to kill myself to save the world. I also tend to self-sabotage. I am constantly in disbelief when things seem to be going well for me, because why are things going so well? I don’t deserve that? And then I push people away and cut everyone off, so that I can stick to the story that someone’s out to get me.

I am currently sitting on the carpet of my hotel floor. I could go to the lobby and sit on sofas, but there are too many people there at the moment. Too many happy people. I could also go and write this from the comfort of my room, but I feel like I deserve to be punished. I also just don’t want anyone to see me in the state that I am in at the moment.

I also deleted Discord. It is what I was using to talk to the boy I like. I am impulsive and I think I enjoy ruining my life, because all I seem to want to do is suffer. He has done absolutely nothing wrong, rather, he’s been awfully kind and compassionate. I had been on the lookout for a way to justify my desire to push him away, and I found the tiniest thing and used that.

Do you know why? Because I can’t, for the life of me, understand why anyone on this planet of 8 billion people would voluntarily choose to spend their time with me or even be remotely interested in who I am as a person. There is no way a good thing could be happening to me. I don’t deserve it.

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What a cruel life. I’m sure a lot of people are dealing with so much worse, and I feel awful for even thinking my problems matter on the grand scale of things, but I swear, man, this does not feel good at all.

I have the strongest urge to self-harm right now, but I do not have access to anything at all at the moment. I hate living in hotels.

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Not surprised people who know me don’t want to be around me. I’m insufferable and obnoxious. I’d rather k1ll myself than hang out with me, too.