BPD is the worst. You can have all your shit together. You can be doing so great and be in such a good place and then just fall apart out of nowhere. It’s a never ending cycle and I hate it so fucking much.
And nobody EVER understands this illness! I have depression and anxiety as well, and people can understand that. But god forbid, you have BPD. God forbid, you TELL anyone you have BPD. They’re all mental illnesses but apparently some mental illnesses are more socially acceptable than others. BPD is viewed as the crazy girlfriends. The psycho murderers. They aren’t viewed as people trapped on a rollercoaster they desperately wanna get off. We can’t even enjoy our happiness because we know it can end any moment. And the thing is, I’m crying right now but in a couple hours or a day, I’m gonna be fine. And I’m gonna feel stupid about this. But the fact of the matter is that I end up in this place. It doesn’t last long, but I always come back. And when I’m not here, it’s just like being in a waiting room until I have to come back and see the doctor. The doctor, being the horrible feeling of being not good enough. Not being understood. Hating your very existance because of how much pain you are forced to feel. Wanting to end it all. I’m tired of the up and down. I don’t know what it’s like to just be alright. And that’s why the words “everything is gonna be alright” are meaningless. I’m never “alright.” I’m sunshine and rainbows or I’m storm clouds and pouring rain. There is no inbetween. I’m constantly on one end of the spectrum. I’m up or down. There is never middle ground.