Letting it out, and letting you in

This is a monumental moment for me. I am finally putting my life in words for others to see. This was not an easy decision for me. There is shame, embarrassment, and so many other things that stand in front, trying to stop me from doing this.

I am sitting here, trying to decide where to start, what to say. I don’t want to put some of the things into actual words, but I know at some point I am going to have to. I hope doing this will help me accept my life, and rid myself of some of the weight I carry with having Borderline Personality Disorder.

My story is not pretty, and seeing it evolve in print is going to be hard for me. Am I strong enough to do this? To expose my soul, thoughts, and feelings for anyone to see? I guess I will find out.

For my husband, I hope this helps you understand things I cannot verbally say to you. Whether it is a photo I share, or a quote, or my own words. Thank you for standing by me, during the darkest of dark days, when I could not even stand myself.

I cannot really start my story from the beginning, because at the time, I did not know that is what it was. Years and years of built up emotions, that finally my brain could no longer handle, and one day it exploded.

My mind is like a ticker tape, constantly running with thoughts. I can key in on a certain memory or thought, and it can overtake me, and I will obsess about it and be mentally exhausted. I learned how to let the obsession and pain escape, and I am not proud of this – I cut. My body is covered in scars.  I have hundreds of scars, that remind me of where I was, and where I am. I was good at hiding them from people, but I am at the point, that I no longer keep them hidden. They are a part of who I am and what I have been through. I am not going to lie, I still get to the point that I feel like cutting is my only option to release my pain.

I did not know I was mentally ill for many, many years. I just thought I was too emotional, wore my feelings on my sleeve, and was sometimes just a bitch. It was not until 2012 that I sought out psychiatric help. Of course I was misdiagnosed, as most are, and it was not until 2015 that I started being treated for Borderline Personality Disorder. My medications help me get through the days. I still have dark days, as I call them, but they are not as often. The dark days can hit at any time, without warning, and I will be its prisoner until it decides to leave.

I am not going to get in to details right now, as it is too painful, but in 2008 is when I started to have very pronounced symptoms. Remember, at this time, I still did not know I was mentally ill. I had what I thought was a “nervous breakdown” due to something that happened. I am not ready to speak of that incident yet.

There is much more to my story, years and years back, that I will one day get to. The source of when my mental illness started, unbeknown to me until a few years ago. I will say, I am an adult child of an alcoholic who was abusive, and I was sexually molested at a young age by a family member. I married young, to an alcoholic and drug addict, and the abusive pattern continued. It was really all I knew at the time. I was married to this man for 15 years. I do not know why I stayed married to him for so long, other than I had no self-esteem, and I was scared of the unknown. Getting my children out of that lifestyle was the best decision I made, for them and myself. My only regret is not being strong enough to get them out sooner.

Words spoken from my heart today, with more to come …








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