During the months when I am losing my mother (I don't know what will remain of me afterwards), I feel I touch the core of the BPD problem: the constant and pervasive state of partial detachment from one's life and the expectation that sooner or later someone else will appear to deal with it instead of us, to give us instructions about what to do with it. Life does not belong to us and we do not belong to life which for others is so clear that it belongs to us. Feet do not weigh on the earth and hands do not grasp what we need, The ability to grasp our life, that's what we miss. This is why we find it so difficult and wasteful of energy to do something coherent to build a life, to take care of it. For this, we become addicted because we are waiting. The origin? Bad emotional communication from which we defended ourselves with a sense of detachment, with a readiness not to let us belong. And now that the one who wanted to decide for me the meaning of (my) things and (my) emotions is dying, I must urgently learn to die before I have ever learned to live. #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #DBT #dependency #attachment #LosingAParent #Borderline depression