This is the first of a three part series talking about life after abuse. Often, I read messages or urges from people on social media or forums, asking people to get help if they have found themselves in an abusive relationship. Get out. Seek refuse. Say something. Today's blog post is a narrative, an open talk about what happens after escaping an abuser.
Before my schizoaffective (bipolar type) diagnosis, these were the moments where I would subtly sabotage myself. I'd make grand purchases with money I didn't have. I'd buy gifts and send money to people that I thought were my friends. I even went as far as to spontaneously start up different business ventures.
Now that June is here, it's time to reflect on some of the growth and recovery made this year. In the beginning of every year, I like to tell myself that "this year will be different." It rarely is. I find myself stuck in the same cycles and behaviors over and over again. This year, I was adamant about looking for ways that I was hurting myself and my relationships, to try to make something different happen this year.
I write this for the person, whether you are the boyfriend, girlfriend, parent, child, friend, whomever, of the girl with borderline personality disorder. I'm well aware of the other articles that you'll find on this subject. You'll be told to run from us, never trust us, and to not believe a word that comes out of our mouths, especially because of the harsh reality of what it's like to love a girl with borderline personality disorder.
There's a shock with coming to terms that you're the spitting image of the woman who you spent your adulthood rejecting. When you wake up and take a good look in the mirror, to find that you're staring back at your mother. Same hair... same eyes... even the same birthmark on the collarbone. You were able to run from it when you were younger. Got away with dressing with clothes that wildly differed from her's. Dyed your hair blues and pinks. But then you age... and one day, you realize that you look just like your mother.
But that's the thing with mental illness.
Mental illness doesn't care if you did everything right.
No matter how often I track my moods or watch my diet, a psychotic episode can still spring up on me out of nowhere. I could spend my days relaxing, taking care of myself, barely lifting a finger, and I can trigger the psychosis.
So if you're having a bad day, and you don't know why... it's alright.
May 1st feels like a great time to start up thing blog. I'll be honest... it's been a while since I've run a successful blog. My mental health has been deteriorating over the last few years and I've allowed myself to fall into a pit of self-pity. I've deleted blogs that I've started. I threw away projects that I've funneled time and money into. I've come to a point of helplessness where enough is enough.
So to mark the beginning of borderline personality disorder awareness month, I am starting this blog.