September 2015

Part 13 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Crazy (literally) how much has happened in the past year!
  • Inspired by people who share their experiences in blogs or on video platforms I start my own blog about my loose screw. Am very nervous to share all this but happy about the place it has now
  • Talk to family members about past and see that boundary crossings have larger dimensions and concern more people than I thought

These entries aren’t very insightful as most of them already overlap with the first blog posts. Hence why this is the last part of my “Year before the blog”-series  – you can find everything else in older posts 🙂

Rock on!


August 2015

Part 12 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Problems with authorities resolved, passed Cambridge Certificate exam, planning next holiday – lots of achievements!
  • Nevertheless phases where I feel lost and scared
  • Due to arguments of relatives I am able to see things differently, talk about them, feel angry,…feel that I’m going to change something but am not quite there yet.
  • All in all feel like everything’s going in the right direction even though I have intense panic attacks, etc.
  • Always wondering if it actually makes sense to keep myself from cutting when all, really all my thoughts are about it. Can’t a small cut be a fine compromise when I’m able to concentrate better for weeks afterwards?

The usual up and down…

July 2015

Part 11 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Living with my partner feels so great, i habe a beautiful room, we have plants and cook every day – a real home!
  • Problems with some authorities (massive trigger!) – panic attacks, feel small and want to cut but decide not to let that happen as I have the strength to fight it right now!

This fighting spirit show just how much better I started feeling then – for the first time I could believe that it was possible for me to be happy.

June 2015

Part 10 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • The annual summer-high makes me feel good 🙂
    Moving in with my partner runs smoothly!
  • A little nervous about summer holidays (high season at work)
  • Getting along well wih my inner child

All in all a good month 🙂

May 2015

Part 9 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Am worried about a family member’s funeral – unfortunately not only because of things that make all funerals horrible but also because people from different “worlds” will be there and I won’t know what to do.
  • Great statement about self-harm from a favourite person: “That’s like me getting sloshed from time to time.” 😀
  • Can see my illness as a quirk and get better at accepting help
  • Keep eyes open as professional help might still be a good idea (maybe art therapy or something similar?)
  • Startet exercise book for the inner child, very interesting
  • No matter what I’m working on, my anger get ins the way, I’m scared of it, lock it in, don’t know what to do with it

As an explanation for the first topic: With different “worlds” I meant the fact that even as a child I constructed a thousand versions of myself (keyword Ego States) and somehow lost track of them. That’s why I find it difficult when people from different “worlds” meet, esepcially relatives.
Apart from that I was quite positive at that time 🙂

April 2015

Part 8 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Partner gone for a week and stupid April’s fool tricks at work trigger flashbacks and make me feel completely humiliated. Can’t talk about it because I don’t want to be a spoilsport, for the first time in my life I want to cut in a visible spot and I feel terribly stupid because of that
  • I love my new job!
  • Rage, hurt my partner whilst lashing out verbally, afterwards huge fear of losing him. Self-harm, fight, but we can solve it
  • After physical sickness completely strung out and whiny

From this time I mostly remember how happy I was with my new position at work although these notes don’t sound that cheerful…

March 2015

Part 7 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Yay, new position at work! My own desk and many interesting tasks, no field service any more!
  • Stop seeing my therapist due to lack of progress after loss of confidence. Financially I could only see her twice a month anyway which she says is too seldom and she wants to give (my authorized) public health therapy place to someone else.
  • Notice that everyone seems to think I’m easier to deal with when I’m unwell. Have to get into my head that I’m also loveable when I’m happy and cheerful!
  • Think much about incidents in the past where I was left unexpectedly.

I know now that the new position at work was the very best thing that could have happened to me at the time :). To this day I’m really happy in my job and back then I was so glad that the end of my therapy was only a small thing to worry about. Under the circumstances I don’t think I would have made any more progress anyway.

February 2015

Part 6 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Topics in therapy: Self-love, allowing grief/anger about incidents in the past to come up, reducing stress, calming down, stopping thoughts deliberately is not the same as suppressing them, weird dreams. According to therapist all the mean things of which I fear others might think them about me are my own thoughts about myself. She says I have to relativize what I view as failure.
  • After a week full of work and renovation of bathroom I break down. Am completely confused, cry and can’t stop, have to hand over all knives etc. to my partner. Feel very ashamed although partner and therapist think this step was a success.
  • Weekend in thermal spa with partner wonderful
  • Therapist tells me she can’t promise our usual appointments any longer and that she would like me to pay for therapy myself as she gets less from insurance than from paying clients (!). According to her she is more flexible with appointments when I’m not a health service patient.

Before questions come up: Yes, my therapist actually said that. I’m aware that many of you will think I devaluated her somewhere in my borderline-head and got that wrong but I inquired a few times if she actually wants me to give up my health-service paid therapy place (that was authorized for another six months) in order to get her to give me appointments that were compatible with my working times. She did. A difficult situation, not to mention the loss of confidence. About the breakdown mentioned above I can say that it showed me just how fragile my balance is if I have one and that I always have to be careful not to trip.

January 2015

Part 5 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Feel pleasantly calm although nervous when thinking about new start at work
  • Made weekly schedule in order to get enough recovery periods
  • Learned how to crochet and listened to some audio books, with these activities being on my own works better now
  • More useful conversations with family members
  • Can hardly think about certain things in my past without freaking out
  • Get more and more used to panic attacks, they are shorter than they used to be, afterwards I’m strangely peaceful
  • Jan. 13th: Able to work again
  • Topics in therapy: Self-worth, inner child, coping with being alone/in company, abuse and sickness of the relative

In hindsight I doubt that it was actually wise to work again at this point but at least it gave me back some “normality” and structure.

December 2014

Part 4 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Too vulnerable – decide to take sick leave for a month. Doctor says something like “Pull yourself together!” but still agrees. Huge support from my boss
  • Topics in therapy: Why am I more strict with myself than with others? Am I not a little sorry for the child I was? Why do I protect others from things that happened to me? Am told to try autogenic training.
  • Have to find strategies in order to get back to work!!!
  • Beautiful days with and lots of support from my favourite people
  • No suicidal thoughts at the moment
  • Therapist urges me to “finally” talk to my relative about inicidents she calls abuse and doesn’t understand when I tell her I’m not yet ready
  • Plan to talk to some people about all this in the christmas holidays
  • Have to learn that gratefulness doesn’t necessarily mean you have to love someone
  • Have to see the medical officer due to long sick leave but he is very nice and understanding
  • Therapist tells me to reflect less as I prevent myself from feeling anything that way
  • Talk to some family members/relatives on christmas – some conversations great, some satisfactory
  • Autogenic training is great – am very relaxed during and very awake after it
  • Try to let out anger on a punching bag for the first time – Very difficult for me

Concerning this time I have to rely on my notes completely. I hardly remember anything and have no idea what I did that whole month. Shopping for groceries was a challenge for a whole afternoon so I probably really didn’t do that much at all…

November 2014

Part 3 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Work only 3 days/week now
  • Much love for my birthday, from favourite people but also from unexpected ones
  • Topics in therapy: Lightheartedness, being less strict with myself, I talk about incidents with a realtive and can’t believe how clearly my therapist calls this abuse and how she tells me I’ll be a victim for as long as I cut!
  • Meds: Only a quarte tablet/day. My birthday is the first day without any
  • A weekend alone, life-changing news and a nightmare of my relative are too much for me – I cut for the first time in ages. I don’t feel anything. Red tears.
  • Meds are gone
  • Terrible week: A couple of family parties, panic attacks, cigarettes and alocohol, crying fit at work, landlord comes into my flat with wife and 3 (!) little children who throw my books around, renovation of my kitchen, I am all run down!
  • Am told that I can move in with my partner in 2015 and can hardly beliebe it
  • Therapy: No progress concerning anger. Dissociate, am scared, have nightmares. Therapist says I should only contact people who are good for me at the moment.
  • Contact a BPD-study in Germany, possible participation in 2015

This time was one of the lowest lows in my life, to this day I can’t say much more about it.

October 2014

Part 2 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Extremely tired in the evenings but less thoughts of suicide. Decide to reduce working hours by November. This means that I’ll also lose my position as team leader.
  • Dose of Escitalopram increased to 10mg/day
  • Topics in therapy: Fear of abandonment, devaluation, skills, black-and-white-thinking, inhibition when it comes to letting anger out, talking about what’s hurting me, possibility of a pet
  • Appointment with second doctor OK, insurance pays for therapy
  • Increased dose of meds doesn’t work for me: Feel “remote-controlled”, sedated, have nightmares which I confuse with real events, feel completely confused. Decide to reduce meds again and then slowly stop taking them. Want to try it “just” with therapy
  • Dizziness due to reduction of meds (despite step-by-step reduction) but at least I feel like myself again

I know that the support I felt from my therapist was like a light in all the darkness for me at that time. It was a feeling of just going on somehow without knowing where I wanted to go. The only thing that was clear was that I couldn’t continue the way everything had been before…

September 2014

Part 1 in a series about the time between my diagnosis and the start of this blog. Notes from my “Loose-screw-logbook”, the predecessor of my blog.

  • Panic attacks, urge to cut, emptiness, thoughts of suicide, desparation, rage, fear
  • Advice center, appointment with psychiatrist. Meds: Escitalopram, 5mg/day. I don’t take the sleeping pills and sedatives the doctor offers me. Suspected diagnoses: Depression, Panic disorder, BPD.
  • Holiday. No effect of the meds.
  • Huge fear of work. Feel down especially in the mornings. Effect of meds in the afternoon???
  • Therapy place found! Suspected diagnoses confirmed. Planned time for therapy: 3 years!!! Appointment with another therapist necessary for insurance reasons.
  • Lots of support from my partner.
  • BPD suddenly makes sense. Read much about the disorder and in spite of initial denial it sounds plausible. Have known many symptoms for years/always: fear of abandonment/being crushed, idealisation/devaluation, EMPTINESS, self-harm, frequent change of jobs, sudden ends of realtionships, derealization, not feeling myself, watching/manipulating people, anxiety, functioning, being inflexible when there already was a plan, not copinh with change between being alone/in company, fixation on one person,…

All in all one could say everything went really quickly back then. I realized that in spite of all the years I had spent fighting on my own I finally had to get help. It felt as if I went to the doctor as a “normal” person who sometimes panicked and got back out as a borderline who was offered benzos. I though “No, not me!”. After a few weeks I realized just how well the diagnosis fit about every problem I had ever encountered as if all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. That was the huge realization of that month. The fact that I found a therapy place so quickly was sheer luck if you believe in such a thing. Nevertheless it had probably been about time.

Happy Birthday!

I can hardly believe it but today my blog is one year old! In this year it became so much more for me than I’d ever expected. When I first sat down with the idea that a blog could be the kind of writing I like I wasn’t even sure if I had enough to say for such a project. And when someone read one of my posts for the first time I thought that would remain an isolated incident for a long time…another thing I was wrong about as my blog (German and English counted together) now has:

  • 3337 visitors from 28 countries
  • 150 posts

And I just want to thank everyone who read something here. You encourage me so much more than I could ever have expected (after all I still don’t view myself as an internet-person). I’ve learned so much from this experience, from other blogs, from the simple fact that I have a space here for all the things I find hard in realf life…it’s really wonderful!

I want to start the second year of this blog by looking back at the year before I started blogging. When I realized that I needed help I started to write important incidents into a kind of “loose-screw-journal”. This journal could be viewed as the predecessor of my blog and I thought that it’s quite a pity that has been in my drawer since September 2015, completely unnoticed. The journal starts in September 2014 and when I see how far I’ve come in these past two years I am truly amazed. Now I want share this journey – each of the following day will be about one of the months between my diagnosis and the start of this blog (you can see these posts in the category “The year before the blog”).

I am curious as to what the next year might bring and hope that most of those who read here continue to do so and that some new people may find their way here. Once again THANKS to everyone who encourages me and all the best for you!


Growing and exploring…

Thinking about my childhood increasingly confuses me since last autumn – until I started seeing a therapist I had the impression that my childhood was an exceptionally happy one. I had caring parents, all my grandparents did a lot of funny stuff with me, I was good at school and violence was something that happened in movies. Yes, I was an only child and my parents seperated when I was 7, my dad worked quite much and my mum suffered from depression but everyone has something that wasn’t ideal in their childhood!

My therapist made me see that I always was under a lot of pressure to please everyone and that I had to grow up way too early in order to cope with going from one place to another all the time (after my parents’ divorce I spent one week with my mum, then one week with my dad and so on). That’s not just a bad thing – it made me more independent.

My parents’ divorce was better than most as it was extremely civilized – nobody argued or was angry, they just had enough of each other and had been living seperate lives for years anyway. When they wanted to tell me about the divorce, I said “I don’t want to hear, I know it already – you want to be seperated.” And that was it, basically. We discussed it on a very unemotional level, which was a two-edged sword I guess. I’m very glad that I got along very well with my parents’ new partners – they are all still together and happier than my parents could ever have made each other.

Also, a relative of mine didn’t respect my personal boundaries. That happened under the cloak of love and affection, so it took quite much time for me to see that it traumatized me. I’m still working on that…most of the memories are out-of body ones which makes it difficult for me to tell what I felt.

Being pestered at school wasn’t nice but as I preferred reading my books instead of playing with the others I wasn’t completely unhappy. I had my social environment: The family organisation my mum worked and still works for gave me a sense of belonging and there were lots of activities that made me happy there.

Panic attacks started when I was about nine. I was terribly afraid of losing my mum but the attacks stopped after seeing a therapist a few times.

A few close people died when I was quite young and I spent a lot of time in hospitals. Now, I hate hospitals but I guess that I have the ability of coping with people dying better than many other people. It’s just a part of life…

I said before that thinking about my childhood confuses me, that’s because of the splitting: I can only see the difficult stuff I just mentioned or I can see all the great things I had the privilege of experiencing. It’s black and white again and I am unable to see all the stuff in between, I hate the average.

Here are some awesome things about my childhood:

  • My parents read book to me all the time, therefore I knew how to read at a very young age, books were my first big love and I thank my parents for that.
  • We did lots of stuff – going to the zoo, going on adventurous night hikes, baking cookies and tinkering.
  • My family was really patient with me, although I was jumping around and talking and asking something every waking minute 🙂
  • I was allowed to eat as much chocolate as I liked.
  • My mum and dad took lots of pictures and they even made a movie about me, with a proper soundtrack and everything. That’s one of the most precious gifts I have ever gotten.
  • My parents where honest with me. Always.

And although we seemed to be this perfect family, I always felt I was “different”, people told me so as well. Somehow, I never really fitted the picture, as if I was an alien that just looked like the other children…

So that’s it about my childhood so far, I might write more about it but I guess this is enough for a first impression.

My twenties…so far

The last few years have been very exciting for me, I’ll try to give an overview:

When I turned twenty, I celebrated by getting a new job (again) that made me unhappy (again). What made me happy though, was that I went for a short holiday with my partner (and yes, that’s the same partner I live with today – the best thing that ever happened to me). A few months went by, I found another job (that wasn’t so bad actually), which I quit in November 2013.

And then I was free for a couple of months: First, I celebrated my twenty-first birthday with everyone who was important to me, which meant that my mum and dad were in the same room for the first time in years – what an event!
Following that, I went to New Zealand for about three months, a thing that I had always wanted to do, number one on my bucket list, the big dream! NZ is an incredible place – although I had expected so much, I was rewarded by finding even more!

When I came back, I moved to a larger city than the one I am from because all my friends and my partner went there to study. I lived in a tiny flat without heating and only one power socket for everything. But I finally found a job that wasn’t about selling clothes that were made by little children or working double-shifts in a bakery: I became a fundraiser for two large NGOs (one of them is my absolute favourite NGO). The job is tough: People not only shout at you but actually attack you and being called an asshole all day long because you want to make a difference doesn’t feel all too great.

Anyway, this year, I got an office job in the very same NGO and it is by far the best job I ever had and will get – as far as I’m concerned, I will stay here for the rest of my life (Yes, I know, borderliners always say so, but it’s been much longer than I had any of my other jobs already)!
Also, I moved in with my partner this year, which is an incredibly huge thing for me, as you might imagine.

So, that’s the overview, what happened BPD-wise?

When I was nineteen, I had a really good time: After moving out, it took some time for me to get stable again, by nineteen, I seriously thought, I was OK and it was over. Yes, I had times where I felt empty or depressed and I occasionally cut my legs but so what…I somehow kept going because I had my goal: New Zealand. I thought, that everything would be glorious there and that my problems would all solve themselves magically. NZ was great, but I couldn’t enjoy it as I wish I had because I was constantly afraid that my partner wouldn’t still be there afterwards. It probably sounds stupid because, after all, I chose to go but I felt I had to do that on my own.

Having a project makes me very happy, so first it was New Zealand, then it was moving into my new flat, getting used to my new job. I didn’t cut for almost a year and I hardly ever had dissociative symptoms! Slowly, problems started again after a while. Panic attacks when people shouted at me at work got worse and worse until I ended up crouching behind a supermarket, crying, hyperventilating and thinking I would die for an hour. Then I realized that NZ hadn’t solved any problems and that I needed help.

I went to an advice center for mental illnesses and got mediaction…lots of scary stuff. The doctor told me that I had a Depression and a Panic Disorder, probably a mild form of BPD as well. Hence, I had to take antidepressants and suppresants. Also, he recommended that I should go to a therapist. Help for finding one wasn’t really offered. I started taking the tablets and felt…nothing. Such a huge amount of greyness, I just wanted my life to end. Apparently, the medication stopped my depressive feelings, but also all the others which was about as empty as I am when BPD really hits me.
What made things worse was that I started having nightmares that I thought were really happening, I would end up completely confused, call my mom to make her tell me what happened…the tablets made me more crazy than I was.

As soon as I had found a therapist, I slowly stopped taking them – fortunately! I think if I had taken them just a few weeks longer, I would actually have commited suicide out of a sudden irrational act. Anyway, therapy: Well, it all went well in the beginning, I had the incredible luck of finding a therapist who still had enough time to taki new clients very quickly and she was very uplifting for me. She talked to me for a very long time and sent me to a colleague to make sure that her diagnosis was the right one: Borderline Personality Disorder. Until then, I had only thought of borderliners as crazy, jealous, arm-cuttinig alcoholics which was an image I couldn’t identify with very well.

Then I read a lot and I realized that all serious problems I’d had in my life fitted the diagnosis: The emptiness, the anger, being out-of body, cutting and fear of being left, suddenly there was a name for it. I wasn’t just peculiar, I actually had a problem. And it was not “just” a depressive episode or a little panic here and there.

In therapy, we talked a lot about childhood experiences, what made me feel bad and so on. But after half a year, I had the feeling that I had told my therapist about every little thing that could have gone wrong in my life, I just didn’t know what else to tell her. Also, it was all so analytic, I am more the pratical type, I wanted solutions, not just long talks about problems!

That was about the time I got my (wonderful) office-job which led to different working times. And suddenly my therapist told me that she didn’t want my therapy to be paid by the insurance because she would get more if I paid it for myself. I told her that I could only afford that if we had less appointments then before and she refused that request. I lost my trust in her and stopped therapy as I didn’t have the impression of getting somewhere that way.

I am grateful that I had my therapist in the toughest time and I’m equally grateful that I got the office job at the right time: Nobody shouts at me and I have many different things to do so that I never get bored. I enjoy the fixed working times and I can take a break whenever I need one. And all that on top of working for this great NGO 🙂

Two months ago I moved in with my partner and I enjoy that so much: No going back and forth between flats or cities as before, it is home – and I never called a place home that way before! This stability helps me a lot.

So apparently…things are going upwards 🙂

From that point on, you will find news in the section Status quo.

A summary of puberty

When I try to remember the day I encountered the first symptoms, it is very difficult as the panic attacks started when I was nine years old and I have lots of out-of-body memories from my early childhood. But I guess, the real BPD-stuff started when I was about 12. It is a tricky age for most people – your body starts changing, school gets more difficult, you fall in love and you have no damn clue who you are exactly.

For me, it sometimes feels as if I never grew any older since then. In 2005 I wrote into my diary “I feel a hundred years old. I am just tired and I can take no more. Will I ever be happy? Free? Or at least, will I ever know, who I am?”. Admittedly, that reads like the average, melodramatic teenage diary. But I was really serious. School was very interesting for me, still I didn’t want to go there because I was being bullied for years. Being locked into the classroom for hours or finding my exercise books in the toilet made me feel…tired. I can’t remember if I ever got angry, I just know, that I was empty and tired and just wanted it to stop. I still don’t know, why they picked me. Sure, I was small, clever and had braces, but I never gave them any reason…kids don’t need reasons for being cruel.

Who am I?

When I was twelve, I got my first kiss in a summer camp. Although we just experimented, it made me think that kissing a girl felt so right…From that day on, I tried to answer the question whether I was homo- hetero- or bisexual and it became an obsession. It consumed my every waking moment for about three years because I had the feeling that I didn’t know myself any more. People told me that it sure was “just a phase” but I had to find the right drawer to put me into. I didn’t really care, what I was or wasn’t, I just wanted to know for sure. Falling in love with a girl from my class made it even worse. I was only fourteen but I can’t remember ever feeling that lovesick since then. Today, I can say that I don’t love a sex but a person, I guess that qualifies me as a bisexual. Being able to say that makes me tremble – I put incredibly much time, emotions and power into finding this part of my indentity.

Over all of my teenage years, I attended three different schools and had four different jobs – that made many people worry about me and today I can see that my decisions were influenced by the popular BPD-instability. Nevertheless, I am grateful for all those experiences as they probably got me where I am today. Also, it shows that I can start over and over again if I want to.
Usually, schools and jobs would seem great at first and I always started things enthusiastically. Two or three months later, I would start getting bored and end up severely depressed a couple of weeks later. The same pattern also applied to my relationships but nobody was worried about that because I was just a teenager – I would find the right one sooner or later (meaning a white, catholic, heterosexual male in most peoples’ opinions).

What’s more, I felt trapped at home. There was always something to do, someone to be there for…I hardly ever went out, and if I did, I had a guilty conscience about it. It appeared to me that I would only be free after moving out (which I did quite soon). Home was pressure – I had to function so that nobody would notice that something was wrong with me. Although I spent most of the glorious summer of 2007 in bed, nobody thought of Depression. I was taken to a respiratory physician several times because I had what we thought were asthmatic attacks. The doctor never found anything in my lungs and although my panic attacks had been recognized when I was a child, nobody thought of them coming back now.

Another thing that had to be hidden were the scars from cutting – obviously! They were the only thing I ever actually lied about to my mum. Telling her I was just clumsy, or inventing more or less convincing stories. Soon, I started just hiding them or finding ways of hurting myself that didn’t look like cuts. From the age of fourteen until I got eighteen, I remember about 30 incidents – most of them when I was really distressed or out of my body. When my mum finally discovered it, I stopped harming myself for quite a while which resulted in a whole year of feeling absolutely numb. I functioned, but I don’t remember a thing about that year, I just couldn’t feel anything but the urge to hurt myself and a terrible, burning anger.

Interestingly, my family had the impression that I was a nice, civilized and uncomplicated teenager: I never came home late, my marks at school where great and I read lots of books instead of drinking alocohol. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll go through a huge midlife-crisis to do all the stuff I missed out on as a teenager. I guess I just wanted to avoid problems and having to explain anything.

After moving out, things started to get better: I had more time to myself and I felt free when I walked the streets at four in the morning, barefoot on the railways, just because I could and nobody would know…
Relationships happened, most of them where short because I left everyone – in all of my life, a single person left me. All the others where devaluated by my BPD-brain before they could get enough from me.

When I was nineteen, I first was able to cry again. In all the time between being twelve and eighteen, I only cried twice which was a reason for huge pressure inside me (therefore, self-harm and so on). The tears just wouldn’t come, I wanted to cry so desperately but it just didn’t work. When it first worked again, it came in dry, hard sobs that hurt. I had a sore throat afterwards and I felt so incrediby ashamed that I couldn’t look into the mirror for a few days. After that, it got easier, today, I cry quite often – it still feels uncomfortable but I know what happens if I don’t, so I rather let it out.

I see that this reads a little hopeless but my teenage years really were not an easy time for me. I always say that I was a hundred years old when I was actually fourteen and that I probably get a little younger since then. Last year I felt as old as I actually was for the first time in my life and I guess that’s something 🙂