They Tell Me I’m Not a Bad Person. I Don’t Believe Them.


I have borderline personality disorder. The weirdest thing about mental illness is that the things I imagine people saying about me at my funeral aren’t things I would believe if they were said to me right now. They tell me I’m not a bad person. I don’t believe them because I can’t.

Some hurts just don’t fix easily. And when you have borderline personality disorder, some hurts don’t fix at all. They just scar over and leave you scared and angry. The kind of anger where you can’t stop your brain, when you start to imagine yourself doing the most vile and cruel things to the person you blame for the hurt. And the kind of scared where your legs shake and your chest physically hurts and suicide starts to seem like a much preferable option because there’s no way to make it better.

 

I am clingy. I am needy. My moods shift at the drop of a hat. I am jealous. I am scared. I need you. You don’t need me. I am scared. I am angry. I am violent. I want to end myself. I see violent flashes — different every time — of how I will punish myself for being the way I am. I am scared. I am scared. I am scared.

I can’t destroy the bad half of me without drinking myself to death or shooting up every day. But like Harry and Voldemort, we sure as hell can’t survive together.

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. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

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Thinkstock photo via Marjan_Apostolovic


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