I consistently replay these quotes in my head. The people who spoke them have come in and out of my life.
I feel emotions far more than the average person. Although on the surface that may not sound entirely life-altering, it’s crippling.
I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder.
I live every day on the surface. Every emotion is ready to be set off—no matter what. When I’m happy, I’m euphoric. When I’m angry, I’m a monster. When I’m sad, I’m depressed. I have no in between. I’m either green, or red. I have no yellow.
Putting my disorder into words is impossible. My mind is a maze, and it makes me sick to even think of it.
All I want is to be close to people. I want a relationship where I can share, love, be safe, but I become “too intense” and “too much” for anybody to handle. So, ultimately, I’m left with nobody. It’s a terrible cycle.
I suffer every day. I suffer with feeling overwhelmed all the time.
I find it difficult to communicate. What I feel in my heart and my head doesn’t translate. I can love you with my mind, body and soul while my words are the exact opposite.
I’m not trying to start drama and I’m not an attention seeker. When I “overact” it is not easy for me to recover.
I hurt. I hurt others. I’m depleted at the end of the day.
I am constantly afraid of the idea of being alone; abandonment is hell. I latch onto people and let go before they are able to let go of me.
Many believe that I am mean, narcissistic, a manipulator.
My moods change consistently and I have zero control over my emotions. I feel everything 24/7.
I was told there are two Monicas. The “Monica I love” and “the disorder.” The “real Monica” is nurturing, empathetic, passionate, enthusiastic, loving and happy.
Once that Monica is gone, you’re left with “the disorder,” which causes manipulative behavior, lying, distorting reality and pessimism.
How is it possible to have these contradicting traits locked into one human?
I’m going to open up my heart. I’m going to become vulnerable. I am going to be raw. There have been nights I didn’t want to be alive. There have been spirits of what I’d like to call “insanity.” I’ve had moments where I ran into the street while the one I love chased me—and I was hoping and praying a car would take me out of my misery.
Out of the pure pain of thinking the one I love would leave, I’d bang my head against a wall as hard as I could, hoping I’d be knocked out.
“I HATE YOU! I LOVE YOU! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Should be tattooed on my forehead.
I tried overdosing three times October, two years ago. I’d had enough. I was bullied out of college and couldn’t handle the pain. I couldn’t handle being abandoned again.
I wanted to die.
I wanted people to care about me. No matter what it took. I wanted people to hurt and realize their wrong-doings. I wanted to punish the ones who didn’t understand. I wanted them to hurt as much as I did every single day.
When I’m down, I’m at rock bottom.
When I hurt, everyone needs to hurt.
I’ve read articles upon articles on how to deal with someone who has Borderline Personality Disorder. I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s nothing uplifting to be heard. I read constantly how people like me drain the ones around us. We drain the energy out of the ones we love. We leave them with nothing.
One article even stated, “Run as fast as you can.”
I’m here to tell you that although I’m difficult, I am worth it.
You may not understand me 100 percent of the time. (You may not even understand me five percent of the time, but I am still human.) I feel emotions to the extreme. I long to feel accepted and cherished.
Do not be afraid of me.
We as BPD sufferers are the “difficult ones,” but we aren’t impossible.