At the End of my Rope


You get to this place and you can’t even believe you’re there. And sometimes when things are this bad, I feel like I’m always there, and wonder if I always have been there.

Lately my life has been a whirlwind of events and emotions and I really feel like I’m coming close to reaching my breaking point. And I don’t even know what that means. It could mean that I’m going to scream up at the sky, or just lie down and give up and surrender to sleep, because it is just so hard to be awake right now.

I don’t even know how to describe what I’m feeling, so I’ll just rattle off events. I have been cycling through intense rage, sadness, and emptiness, and something darker that I can’t name. I wander aimlessly as if I am running from something, and maybe I am? I have been drained of energy. This battle to stay functional or alive, anything more than just breathing has been terrible. One night I was happy for half an hour, and then the rage came, and it was a rage that hurt deeply, everything annoyed me and I just didn’t want to exist because I didn’t want to feel like that anymore. It lasted for three hours. It might have been the most painful hours of this year if I don’t count what happened next. I went to the park around 4am, and just sat on the swing and listened to music. My anger was receding, but then came the fear. I was imagining demons, and then the power went out all around me. In fear I ran to Henry’s (he lives near the park). I was cold and panicking and saw he was online but I just missed him because I got no response. I was too tired to walk home, too cold to move. I messaged all of his roommates, even called a few. I cried and I prayed and I shivered until 6am when I decided no one was coming, walked to a nearby coffee shop, and tried not to scream as my feet unfroze. Then I harmed myself out of guilt and shame for being such a nuisance, as punishment for not acting like a normal person would. Then I went home and slept for two days, only getting up to let my dog out at intervals and to have water. And the worst part? This has been my every day, worse and worse each day, almost all of November. The rage, the tears, the wanting to die, the emptiness, the lifelessness, inability to concentrate, staring at a page, counting in my head, taking half an hour to convince myself to get up after I wake, sometimes the most productive part of my day being my shower, the begging for someone to take me out of this painful place. Just yesterday I caught myself debating whether to pee in my garbage can because I didn’t want to walk to the bathroom. I just didn’t have the energy.

I can’t be around people. I just can’t function, can’t remember social customs, can’t think of anything to say. People regard me with concern and disgust and annoyance, and though it hurts it’s easier to isolate myself. At least that way no one can blame me for hurting anyone but myself. I hear these voices tell me so many negative things, voices of friends, voices I see on the internet. Shall I share some?

“It baffles me how stubborn people are to not work to make themselves feel better”

Me: DO YOU KNOW JUST HOW FUCKING HARD I AM TRYING NOT TO FUCKING DIE? Do you know how hard it is to convince myself to get out of my bed when I hand in homework late because I can’t do it on time because I never know when I’m going to have a “good day” and I’m scared I’m never going to be able to hold down a job, especially seeing I can’t handle university, can’t handle waking up to see how bleak my future is, knowing how many medication dosage changes I have gone through, the therapy, the time, and what will change tomorrow? What will change ever?

“Just because you might not get better doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole”

Me: Gee, thanks for that. You know, I might not get better. And I isolate myself to protect the world. Why don’t you try not being an asshole, what’s your excuse?

“Mentally ill people are inherently dangerous and abusive”

Me: No true, we are more often the victims. Thanks for the stigmatizing generalization, though.

“Notice how you make the lives around you worse and change. It’s that easy.”

Me: Is it? IS IT? Why don’t we switch lives and you try being me? Having this? Cause I only see one option that can solve everyone’s problems right now, and trying not to go there.

“If you can’t stop being toxic you need to distance yourself. Take responsibility for your actions.”

Me: And I have. Oh, I have. So now it’s just me suffering. Am I toxic? Who knows? I know I’m in pain. If sharing my struggles is toxic, asking for help is toxic, then fine. I’ll stop asking. I’ll just go then.

“Maybe stop playing the victim.”

Me: PLAYING the victim? You think this is an ACT? Fuck off. Seriously, what else is there to say to this one? Fuck off.

“Just cut these people out of your life.”

Me: So many people have listened to this piece of advice in regards to me. Feeling the love.

“You shouldn’t force other people to live in your hell.”

Me: They can walk away if they want. I can’t. If you can’t handle it, tell me. There is no me “forcing” anyone to do anything.

“Maybe take into account that your mental illness makes other people feel like shit, and they have their own health to deal with.”

Me: Ouch? Okay? Like, what do I say to this? Alright, I’ll stop asking for help. I get it already. I’m a burden. I’m nuisance. I’m everything everyone is telling me, including the illness.

All of these have led me to be VERY suicidal.

And alone.

I do have people who care, long distance, but they are so far and it’s so hard now to be in an environment where you are so unloved and so, so alone. I’m just trying to make it until I can go home for winter break. I’m not in danger of dying by my own hand, I have people I love to live for, but if they weren’t here, I’d already be gone.





The water has turned to ice
Burning my insides
I call out to you
And all I hear is silence

My eyelids are heavy
And so is my heart
As I read the words you say
At my worst

I feel like I’m falling
To where, I don’t know
But sometimes I wonder
If maybe, you know

I understand regret
And sadness, and anger
So much more




flooding with emotion coffee and motion
white lies trailing the skies
why why why why
love such a pretty word such an ugly curse
I didn’t mean to hurt you
But I shot you in the heart
my hands are cold and so is my heart
but I’m lying to myself because my heart is on fire
burning with shame
I deserve this maybe not before
But I marked you then I evened the score
Burning from all the things I said and didn’t say
My life is going up in flames

I made you the hero I imagined you to be
But I kept re-writing the story
You saved me over and over again
This damsel became the villain
We faced off like lovers in a fight
It was an epic battle in my mind, but a tragedy in life

Play my skin like a violin
He can’t feel for you, you’ve made sure of that
the music I bleed the scars I catch
Hiding out in the open
Wrapped up in sorrow, soaking
Why do I write my own stories
But so does everyone
I have a monster or maybe the monster has me
It pounds like a drum beat in my head
Flowing through my veins flooding with emotion
So fucking loud my heartbeat
I have a thing inside of me
Hope that he can absolve me

I made you the hero I imagined you to be
But I kept re-writing the story
You saved me over and over again
This damsel became the villain
We faced off like lovers in a fight
It was an epic battle in my mind, but a tragedy in life

They run from the dark thunderclouds on my face
Do I tell myself this just to save face
Run run run as fast as you can
Because I am a wicked woman
This swirling vortex nonstop
What if I keep writing what if I never stop
We were cursed from the start
We would never have gotten far
Should’ve known you would only leave
No one can ever love me
We were beautiful, like a dream come alive
Until I woke you up and burned us alive

I made you the hero I imagined you to be
But I kept re-writing the story
You saved me over and over again
This damsel became the villain
We faced off like lovers in a fight
It was an epic battle in my mind, but a tragedy in life

I was the thief in the night
Come to steal all your light
But you wouldn’t have that, you had so much to give
It was nice to have, but I needed so much more to live
I wasn’t thinking when I ran after you
I was just drinking when I screamed after you
You were my hero, my saviour
You thought you were doing me a favour
You came in with all your love
But I couldn’t stop the monster from destroying us
You were the prince, in the fairytale
But the princess usually isn’t from hell

I made you the hero I imagined you to be
But I kept re-writing the story
You saved me over and over again
This damsel became the villain
We faced off like lovers in a fight
It was an epic battle in my mind, but a tragedy in life

I thought you were my freedom
But you locked me up and didn’t have keys
I was the worst parts of you
If I was being honest, being true
I was running towards the sun
But I couldn’t stay warm without burning up
I was standing still, in my mind
Racing after stolen thunder
Cause you were lightning to my fiery soul
So divine when you screamed
Run like hell when you blame me
Cause you were my water, my oxygen
And now I can’t breathe

I made you the hero I imagined you to be
But I kept re-writing the story
You saved me over and over again
This damsel became the villain
We faced off like lovers in a fight
It was an epic battle in my mind, but a tragedy in life

Winter came with quiet apology
I wanted summer rain with a dance scene
I cried with all the things left unsaid
Promises like butterflies circling my bed
Don’t pretend that you ever loved me
It’s too easy for me to believe

I made you the hero I imagined you to be
But I kept re-writing the story
You saved me over and over again
This damsel became the villain
We faced off like lovers in a fight
It was an epic battle in my mind, but a tragedy in life





I Threw the Knife

I didn’t mean to do it, but I was splitting with Henry and in the blink of an eye I had sent a massive, scathing text message detailed with all of the ways he’d wronged me and it was quite…harsh, to understate things. I was very, very mean in a brutally honest way. Everything I said was true, but the way I said it…I regret what I did. I am ashamed. It was impulsive and stupid and I’m hurting myself by hurting him, because I can’t stand rejection and anger and that’s what’s likely coming now. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it was like I forgot he had feelings, I could only see my rage. It would take an EXTREMELY patient and loving person to see past my unkind words and still reach out to me in a kind way. With my words I threw a knife at him, not thinking, and now all I can do is wait and see if he tosses it aside, or drives it into me.

BPD Positivity

No, this is not my post, it’s from Tumblr, but I thought I would share it with you guys because it really brightened up my morning. It reminded me that when explaining BPD to someone, there is some good to talk about.

BPD Positivity
Passionate and Intense: People with BPD experience the world to it’s fullest potential, taking on both challenging and easy tasks with intensity and emotional force.

Individual: Because people with BPD often undergo difficulty with an unstable self-image, many try to rectify this instability by cultivating personality traits that are unique and memorable.

Spontaneous: People with BPD feel free to let whimsy carry them through a life of spur-of-the-moment adventures.

Curious: People with BPD feel their curiosities very strongly and can become attached and involved with new concepts very quickly and actively.

Insightful: Because people with BPD ruminate on their lives and often go through therapy or self-help programs as part of treatment, they often have especially insightful commentary about life and it’s trials and tribulations.

Compassionate: Some people with BPD experience feelings so strongly that they even begin to feel the feelings of those around them. This is called empathy. Many people with BPD approach the world selflessly, hoping to do better for others than we do for ourselves.

Creative and Artistic: The emotional intensity of people with BPD can* make the visual, performing, and written arts a natural output.

BPD and Identity

When I’m feeling low I forget who I am, and I whip through so many emotions that I can’t paint a clear picture in my head of who I genuinely, actually am. I bet some of you guys struggle with this too, what I’m going to try and do is start by making a list of things I like and things I don’t like, as I experience these things, and have them written down so I can look at the list and remember. At least if I don’t know who I am, then I know who I’ve been, and maybe I can fit the pieces together because maybe the different people we think we are, that’s just the different components that make up who we are, and maybe that’s okay, to be completely different in different moods, but by writing it down recognize and realize that you are someone. And even if you don’t think you know who you are, my default is to just live by three things: honestly, loyalty and kindness. Hope this is helpful.

The Aching in my Heart

When you feel like your heart is a hurricane holding all the love you still have connected to the people that you lost and blowing these feelings into the forefront of your mind at different times and then all at once as the memories come flooding in and you just feel this ache and longing and don’t know if it’s need or want but it feels a hell of a lot like need