If I Knew Then

TW: Suicidal thoughts

When I was 16 I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. For a long time, I believed my feelings were normal and that everyone felt the same way until I talked to a professional who explained what my feelings actually were. From a young age, I had a really hard time understanding my own feelings and who I was. I would get upset really easily and was labeled a “cry baby.” I was constantly bored and it was blamed on me being an only child at the time. The one thing that really followed me even now, is the fact that I was constantly being told that I was mean. My parents always related my aggression and no-filter way of talking as me being a mean person when in reality I was outspoken and had a genuine problem with irritability. Regardless of how I told people my problems or how I felt, I was labeled as trying to start an argument or being dramatic.

When I was 20 I wanted to end my life. I was going through a really hard depressive episode, missing my classes, isolating, and neglecting to care for myself. I felt like it was wrong of me to feel such strong feelings when nothing was really wrong in my life. I had nice friends, a good job, and was working on my degree. There was no reason I should be depressed or angry but I did and I couldn’t understand why. I did such a good job masking that even though I was living at home at the time, my parents never suspected a thing, and I’m sure if I told them now, they wouldn’t believe me.

At 22 I had another, similar episode. By this point I knew something was horribly wrong. I remember crying so hard at school that I locked myself in the bathroom and called the first therapist I found on google. I set up an appointment for the next day and didn’t go because I couldn’t get out of bed. I wrote letters to my friends because in my head, I wasn’t going to survive it. There was one time when I impulsively took too much of my medications and slept for almost 3 days. Even after I began to feel better, I was never the same.

There’s a lot that goes into someone wanting to end their lives or having suicidal thoughts. People always talk about treatments and making someone feel better, but no one ever talks about what happens after. Some people get admitted into hospitals and when they get released, what then? Although I was never admitted and knew I would never attempt, after feeling so bad for a long time I forgot who I was and what I wanted. I began to question whether I wanted to change majors in college, applied to a lot of jobs outside of my field, joined clubs that I was never interested in before, and did things that were risky without thinking about any real consequences.

Trying to relearn who you are and what you want is a road that never ends. I’m constantly fighting my own impulsivity to try new hobbies and spend outrages amounts of money on them. I have to be careful not to burn bridges and listen to my impulsivity when I randomly decide to get a new job and a new career. This on top of dealing with irritability and depression is hard enough, so it is no doubt people with BPD are just constantly exhausted. It’s hard to live a life that you don’t even know the point of. When I think about the future, I think about how I want to feel, not what I want to do. The reality is, I’m still figuring out what I want and who I am, and because of BPD, that may be something I work on for a long time, but I know it’s not impossible.