A day with(out)BPD

There are days I feel completey cliche borderline (and yes, BPD is exactly as melodramatic und exaggarated as I try to describe it here – that’s what makes it so…special) and then there are days I know what it’s like to be okay. Most days are somewhere in the middle.

The alarm rings. I wince and nearly start to cry silently. It can’t be time already. I can’t get up. This can’t be real. I spent the whole night dreaming stuff I don’t want to think about right now.  But I have to get up somehow. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll drag myself to work, it’s Friday – tomorrow I can stay in bed as long as I want to.
The alarm rings. I turn around once more and think how I don’t want to get up. It would be so nice to stay in bed for a little longer. I dreamed something very strange but don’t remember exactly, what. I really have to get up now. Although I’m not motivated I tell myself it’s Friday so I can stay in bed as long as I want to tomorrow.

I walk through grey haze as I brush my hair and teeth and then pick some clothes that hide my body as they are too large. I couldn’t bear receiving any compliments today so I try not to be pretty. Nothing makes any sense so I skip breakfast – it would taste like styrofoam anyway.
I’m not fully awake as I brush my hair and teeth and then pick some clothes that feel comfortable. Especially in the morning I don’t like clothes that fit too tightly. I’m a little late already so I skip breakfast – maybe I’ll get something from the bakery on my way to work.

The little hope I had for the day vanishes as I see how many people there are on the train. A child is crying, somebody is talking on the phone and nobody seems to notice how they are crushing me and taking all the space I need. I can’t breathe, it’s too loud, I just want to get out. But I grit my teeth together and put on my headphones to make all the people vanish.
My mood doesn’t improve as I see how many people there are on the train. A child is crying, somebody is talking on the phone and everyone tries hard to avoid touching anyone else although it doesn’t work. I feel a little pressed and put on my headphones to make the ride a little more comfortable.

At work everything’s just flowing past me, I don’t really know what I’m doing but as nobody else seems to notice it I just keep going, minute by minute, breath by breath. Actually I just want it all to end.
At work everything’s like always. I’m not very concentrated but that’s alright – nobody is on Fridays. I tell myself that there are just a few more things to do and then my weekend will start. A pleasant thought.

Break with the colleagues is even more strenuous than work itself – I just can’t bear all the superficial smalltalk and have to pull myself together in order to manage the occasional “Oh!” and “Certainly”.
Break with my colleagues is pleasant – although it’s just smalltalk it’s nice not to drink coffee on my own.

It’s over. I can go home where it’s silent and nobody can tell me things I’m not interested in. Although…being alone also seems sort of scary. Nevermind, weekend is always a great thing, right?
It’s over. I can go home and enjoy my weekend. It will be nice to have some time to my own and I’m really looking forward to some reading.

On my way home I have to buy some groceries. I feel another emotional slap when I see the lot of people in the shop. There are too many voices, too many eyes, too many human beings everywhere. I feel small and lost and it’s very hard to focus on what I actually need. When I get to the checkout I just wish for somebody to hold my hand and help me with the stuff and the bags and the money and the smalltalk and the person before me and the one behind. It’s too much. I watch myself from the outside as I handle all that supremely well.
On my way home I have to buy some groceries. I feel a little irritated when I see the lot of people in the shop. It’s a hard to focus on what I really need in the middle of this chaos. When I get to the checkout I roll my eyes because I have to wait in the queue for so long but finally it’s my turn and I can go home.

I have an appointment for dinner with a person who means very, very much to me. As usual I’m very early so I can pick a seat in a corner where it’s not too loud. I get out my book and start reading. I read and read and suddenly realize that the person I’m waiting for is late. Very late. He’s never late. Probably there’s just a traffic jam. Or there was an accident. Maybe he had an accident! I panic. I check my phone every twenty seconds. I’m breathing too fast. It’s hard not to start crying and I try to tell myself that there’ s no need to worry. But still…what if something happened? I can’t live without him. If he’s gone I’ll…no, never think that. It’s gonna be fine.
I have an appointment for dinner with a person who means very,very much to me. As usual I’m very early so I pick a seat in a quiet corner and get out my book. After some reading I realize that he’s late and I’m a little annoyed. I check my phone – nothing. Probably just a traffic jam, after all it’s Friday evening.

Oh my god, there he is. Instead of feeling relieved I instantly go from terribly scared to incredibly angry. What was that supposed to be? Couldn’t he have called? Such a thoughtless idiot! And I was worried about him – ridiculous! He tells me there was a good reason for being late and somewhere inside me I know that. But I just don’t care.
Ah, there he is! Well I suppose he could have called but nevermind, I’m really looking forward to dinner and conversation and I’m sure he has a good reason for being late.

I went to the toilet to calm down a little. After that it’s a very nice evening. We talk and talk about lots of things I love and am enthusiastic about so by the time we leave my cheeks are flushed with excitement and I feel like a child who doesn’t want to go home from the zoo. I don’t want this evening to end.
It’s a very nice evening. We talk and talk about lots of interesting topics and when we leave I think it’s a pity that this evening has to end so soon.

I decide to walk home as I don’t want to face my empty flat where it’s so silent that my head will be loud. When I’m exhausted I can sleep better. I keep to quiet dark streets, walk on tracks and feel gloriously invisible.
I decide to walk home as some exercising is never a bad thing. Whilst walking along a large shopping street I think about what a nice city it is.

I arrive at home. And I feel incredibly lonely, as if I ceased to exist at all. The walls threaten to crush me, I just can’t go to bed alone tonight. I need someone to acknowledge my existence and hold me. Maybe I should call a friend…but no, I don’t want to get on anyone’s nerves and I don’t want to admit I’m lonely. I should probably go out and find someone to spend the night with me.
I arrive at home. And I feel a little lonely, I wish for someone to talk to. Maybe I should call a friend.

I go through my cupboard and wonder who I want to be tonight. As I start creating a person I don’t know yet with clothes and music and make-up I look into the mirror. And I don’t recognize the person I see there. Is that face supposed to be me? It doesn’t look like what I feel and also it’s not pretty enough to convice someone of staying with me. Suddenly I think about the long way to a bar and about the smalltalk and the alcohol and I feel I can’t do this tonight. A sob sits in my chest but doesn’t come out.
I talk to my friend on the phone and we laugh and agree that she’ll come over for brunch tomorrow in the morning. I feel much better now.

This whole life is so fucking pointless. I’m losing myself more and more and I know that I have to do something. So I drink a glass of wine. And another one. It doesn’t make me sleepy fast enough. I take a cutter from my drawer. It just takes a second to think of all the weeks I’ve tried not to and another second to decide it doesn’t matter now. I’ll snap if I dont. So I smile as the blade touches my skin. With every screaming nerve my head gets clearer. With every drop of blood I feel more alive. With every second I tell myself what a little pathetic wuss I am.
I’m glad the day is over now. I feel a little wired so I drink a glass of wine. It doesn’t really make me sleepy so I put some lavender oil on my hands and my temples as I try to relax. My head gets a little clearer and I start to calm down.

Afterwards I feel very very tired. With feet like lead I climb into bed and start rocking my old teddy bear. Then I fall asleep, glad that I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.
Finally I go to bed. I’m very tired now. I hug my old teddy bear and think about brunch tomorrow and how I’ll stay in bed until my guest comes.

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3 thoughts on “A day with(out)BPD

      1. I sometimes think that about my posts but if you’re in the moment keep writing. It’s always good to read a post where someone has clearly got carried away in the thought and put their feelings down on paper. As hard as it is for the writer it’s like we can follow the moment with you. It’s great to read xx

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