Don’t worry, I’m still on my sexuality kick but in reading something else I saw this excerpt and didn’t want to forget it since it’s very relevant to how I’m feeling right now. We all know I’m a super-villian, but there are days I border on feeling like a hero. An anti-hero at the very least ::smiles:: Dual Natured.
“…BPD shares some features with bipolar disorder, for which it is frequently mistaken, but unlike bipolar disorder, BPD does not lead to lengthy cycles of highs and lows. Instead it causes more rapid mood swings. In less than 24 hours, people with BPD can experience euphoria, suicidal depression and everything in between. BPD is also characterized by a disturbing, but fascinating, dual nature: when people with the disorder are not experiencing flagrant symptoms, they often appear highly functional. “You could meet a patient with BPD in a social setting and not have an inkling that the patient had a major psychiatric disorder,” says psychiatrist Glen O. Gabbard of the Baylor College of Medicine. “The very next day the same patient could appear in an emergency room in a suicidal crisis and require hospitalization.”…”
“Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Mirror, mirror on the wall… find the nearest mirror. Look. Keep looking for 3 minutes. Write about what you see.
I find this exercise repulsive. It very much hit me in a depersonalized space and exemplifies my unstable sense of identity so I decided to cross post it here as well.
The thought of looking into my own eyes only to see a stranger staring back at me is, disconcerting. I recognize the girl on the other side of the mirror.
She has my father’s eyes, my mother’s nose. Cherry black hair and more metal than half the machines out in my shop, but she isn’t me. Is she? Maybe she is and I just can’t see, beyond the surface layer of skin and sinew that binds me up inside.
I’d find her attractive if she wasn’t so comfortably unfamiliar.
Floating two feet to the left of me I sense my motions walking through a world detached from the rest of me. Too often it feels like watching some other force pilot a body I recognize as my own, watching the reactions to my movements to guess the next step that someone else will be taking. It’s worse when I think about it. The detachment more pronounced. Staring at myself is all the more disconcerting for the knowledge that I should know who this woman is. Cognitively I know that I should see her and internalize that she is me, and cognitively I do know what she is, but I have no attachment to my reflection. She’s who I want my physical Self to appear to be. But is she really me? Hm, in part I believe she is. Certain things draw my eye. I am attracted to certain things, so naturally I want to incorporate those things into my Self. Isn’t that how we develop our personalities and self image growing up? We see things we appreciate, mimic them, until we make them our own. I’m well past the mimicry. What draws us is integral to that which we are so what I see is who I want to be. On the outside. Fortunately for me, I can’t see my insides reflected on this glass. A sight I’ve seen before. That is a part of me, that should stay where it belongs. Blood and tissue, fat and tears; things I work to keep from my mirror. I don’t want to see what I know is actually there. Don’t want to see who I’m afraid I might be. I don’t want to look. Nothing you can do, can make me.
Eyes lie. Tell me this is someone I am, who I should be, who I can be. Maybe this time she speaks the truth, but her words have proven false so many times I no longer know the sound of those that ring true. Pretty words from soft lips look like promises wrapped in straight jackets of gold. The madness she feels is real. Truth.
Writing this was very triggering and I had to stop.
We are not all alike. We are not the same. Just like everyone else.
When someone is initially introduced to Borderline Personality Disorder it’s easy to think that all Borderlines are the same, especially with such common stigmas surrounding the disorder. Anger, hostility, self-harm, empty, low self-esteem, lunar laser based world destructo-beam contruction, etc… they’re all thought to be commonly shared. According to the DSM-IV and the checklist that clinicians will use to diagnose you with, it’s very easy to assume that there are a limited number of combinations and therefore a limited number of ways to view BPD. Thus resulting in a general conclusion that all BPD sufferers are the same type of people. What you don’t hear about are the differences. Every person is different and therefore has a different combination of symptoms. Even if you inevitably have the same sets of symptom as someone else (there’s only a limited set of 9 criteria listed in the DSM); how they present in you, affects you, consumes you, are probably very different from the next person. Except for the lunar laser based world destructo-bream construction part. I mean, who doesn’t want that?
It was a weekend. A long, long weekend. I’m including Monday in this too, even though I was technically working. I took a day trip to Chicago for my job. Up at 4:30a.m. to fly out, back by midnight flying back.