When My Borderline Personality Disorder Feels Like a Parasite


I don’t feel like I’m in control of my own mind. I feel as if there’s some sort of parasite lurking around in my head, pressing buttons and pulling levers just to see what would happen. And what happens is total chaos.

One minute I’ll be fine, talking to a friend or watching a movie, and then out of nowhere this ache will rise up and fill my whole being from head to toe. It’s the worst kind of pain because it’s not caused by anything in particular, and it’s always there, just waiting to tell me how hopeless I am. It eats away at me, chewing apart all the things that make me feel human.

I keep waiting for the numbness to hit, but it never does because my borderline personality disorder makes me feel with every fiber of my being, day in and day out. And it’s so exhausting, especially since I question every feeling I have. I can’t trust my mind, and I can’t trust what it makes me think.

If someone greets me in a different tone of voice than they did the day before, it has to be because I did something wrong and now they’re mad at me. If someone takes a bit longer to respond to my messages, it has to be because I said the wrong thing and so they don’t like me anymore. If my mom gives my brother a longer hug than she gave me, it has to be because she loves him more. The list goes on and on, and a hundred of these thoughts cross my mind every day.

It’s as if I’m an intruder in my own body, feeling disconnected from myself and the world around me. I think this is why I grasp at any form of connection, holding on tightly even when I know I should let go. Because in those fleeting moments where I get to feel part of something or someone, I feel alive. Those are the moments my heart and my mind belong to me.

It’s so easy to succumb to the voices that tell me I’m nothing but a factory fault as a result of mass production. That I came into this world with no chance. Broken.

I am not going to back down without a fight, however. Because I am not an illness or defect. I am someone’s daughter, sister and friend. And I will look back at these written words in moments of clouded judgment and remind myself again and again, until I fully believe it.

Just as I hope I can reach others who face similar doubt on a daily basis. I know sometimes it feels as if the world doesn’t care about us, so it’s our job to care about each other.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “START” to 741-741.

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Thinkstock photo by BCGraphix


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