At the bottom. Not swimming, but drowning in the misery of the BPD.

I haven’t been posting, for a while.


I broke, fell apart, sinked to the bottom.

I don’t remember exactly what was I doing for the two past days. It’s a fog of memories.

Mostly I slept not to feel. Not to do anything….to myself.

I thought of ending it once and for all, I couldn’t bear it anymore.

So I took a pill after pill after pill, until I was totally numb and fell asleep.

Did it helped? No. I was looking for a help, my psych is on vacation, I called The Crisis Center,but it didn’t help too much.

They said, that I have to go to my psych hospital (second home,as I call it), but I did not. I don’t want to end there, again. It is three weeks since I left the psych ward, I cannot imagine myself being there locked up, again.

I was, I am still in fact, a wreck.

Going from feeling useless, failure, to self harm thoughts, to suicidal thoughts.

From crying to feeling nothing at all. Empty and numb.

I tried to talk to my family, but they did more harm than good. Our talk ended up in the verbal fight, as my mother, again, tried to be persuasive with her constant and annoying repeating words of how I am overreacting, and do I know how does it make her feel.

Yeah mum, I know. I have been your burden too long. But you have never ever said a word that could make me feel better.

My mum has an amazing power of turning my cries for help into her own misery.  If I feel bad, she makes it even worse, by making me feel guilty and responsible for all the problems in the world. Thanks, mum.

At this moment, I have no clue what to do next. Or better said,what will I do…next.

I’m sorry, but this battle is becoming to hard to fight it.

I feel I have no strength or reasons to fight.

The end.



The Boy




One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.


Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.


Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.


For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.


But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.


When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.


His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.


He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.


He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.


Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.


He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.


Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.


He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.



You Are Who You Are, Why Change?



We are all born into this world different in a perfect genetic chaos, making us unique. Unless, you of course have a twin brother or a sister, then you might consider yourself a little bit not unique.

If the universe wanted it the other way, we would all like the same music, dress the same way, are thoughts would be the same, our lives would be exactly the same.

But the nature itself tends to the chaotic state. It’s natural to be chaotic, to be different than the others who surround you.

I often question myself, what would happen’ if I really accept a long-term psychotherapy and completely change my mindset, my behaviour, my relationships with other people?

Would it still be me? Or someone else?

I know a guy with BPD for many years. When he reached the bottom, and searched for help, he undergo the process of a long psychotherapy sessions.

He is not the same person anymore.

We are still friends, but some of his reactions, sentences, the way he sees the world, is fully changed. I disagree with him a lot. And our friendship is not what it used to be.

In a way, a lost a friend.

I’m glad for him because he leads a normal life, with minor problems now and then, but I would never accept changing myself into someone else.

Sorry, I was born this way. I apologize for all my mistakes, bad manners, harsh words. I did the wrong this in my life. I hurt people, and I am sorry because of that.

But the others have hurt me as well, in a worse and more terrible way then I have done to anybody, ever!

Have they been sent to the psychiatrist? No.

So I choose to by myself.

The way I am.

I have changed only one thing: I brought a lot of kindness, empathy and love towards the others.

My character, though, didn’t change.

If you’re messing with me, it’s not gonna end well for you.

If you are kind to me, I’ll be kind to you.

My personality is who I am, but my attitude depends on you!

That’s why I posted this song.

It says it all.

“Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do!”



The Coffee, The Pen And The Gun



coffee and a gun


I had a cup of coffee, then two

I took a pen and wrote some notes on the paper

About the future, about the past

I wrote a letter to someone who will care enough to read it

I even draw a picture of the world as I see it

Just a black sheet of emptiness.


I don’t like guns

But I feel safe when I have one around

As being attacked too many times in my life

I always bear that feeling of threat incoming towards me.


The coffee, the pen and the gun.

I used only two of them.

The third stayed untouched.


For how long?

It’s a Mad World, Indeed


All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It’s a very, very mad world mad world….”


Isn’t it a truly Mad World?

Beautiful song, awesome lyrics.

Like it? Do you find yourself in the lyrics as I do?

Mental Ilness And The Stigma


As a Borderline Personality Disorder “owner”, labeled and stigmatized, I have found that my obligation is rising the awareness about mental health and removing the stigma it bears.

“I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”

Through the years, BPD had almost ruined my life, ended a quite number of friendships and partnerships.

I hurt the ones I love, I hurt myself.

When I asked for help, it was almost ten years after the symptoms started, and for all of that time, I have suffered.

Sometimes in silence, sometimes screaming.

The stigma that came along with the diagnosis, ruined my professional life.

No, it has ruined everything around me. Instead of getting help finally, I had to bear two problems at a time. The illness and the stigma.

I hope the society will one day understand how mental illness is just the same as physical one.

So the stigma could be removed. Once and for all.

Q: Who would you be, without your BPD?

Extremly interesting post!

Read it if you have BPD, and if you want to know what an EMOPHANE  is.

By the way, I meet all the criteria for an emophane. -:) I think it is good news, but still, that reminds me how I found another label of myself.

I’m a person with a lot of post-it’s on my body and mind.

Beautifully Borderline

A: An emophane


Direct link (or read below for a summary, along with my own personal commentary):

Wow. I just stumbled upon this. I’ve met a few other borderlines around the internet and have noticed some similarities among us all. I think the biggest two I’ve noticed are kind-heartedness and creativity. So I started on my e-search to “the positives about having BPD”, and I found this.

This is my favorite part: “It is not because I suffer from a borderline disorder that I’m sensitive, but because I’m sensitive that I was in a population at risk to develop a BPD”.

One of the other hallmarks of having BPD, is an identity disturbance. I often do feel like BPD is who I am. Who would I be without it? What would I be like? What all aspects about me would be different, or non-existent? I guess in a sense, I…

View original post 86 more words


The hair


Ok, I have to be REALLY SARCASTIC about this BPD problem that I have. 

Yes, I’m utterly impulsive!

Sometimes it is funny, sometimes it is not!

Gratefully,I’m not into shopping, because I simply hate shopping and the shopping malls.

I’m impulsive about other things, for example:

1. Hey, it’s a nice day, let’s just drive off into nowhere and have fun!I prefer woods and meadows, so I mostly end up there. Where? In the woods. Where? No idea.

2. Hey, how about changing my appearance? New haircut! And who needs professionals to do it, I also have scissors! The end result is incredible, mostly for my friends, relatives and any other human that meets me in the street. The usual comment: “OMG, not again! You look like your head was thrown under the lawn mower!”. Great.

3. Hey, let’s go buy some really unnecessary tech ware! Or, I’d like a new cell phone! Damn my obsession with laptops, Pads, Mobile Phones, LED TV’s…..

4. I really do not need that piece of clothing anymore. Put it into the trash. Tomorrow: “Where’s my favourite skirt?!”

I really like myself sometimes, because I have no idea what will my brain do in the next minute. That makes me so unpredictable, but beautifully and amazingly interesting.

So, people around me perceive it like I’m a fun to be around, ’cause they never know whats gonna happen next.

Fun or not?!

What do you think?


Great post!

Neurotransmiters in our brain, something we need to be sane, to function properly…good read to learn a bit more about your’s brain functioning!

Currently, because of concomitant depression disorder, I am taking venlafaxine (Effexor XR), which have helped me to get out of the cave and start functioning.

This drug is not an SSRI antidepressant, but SNRI, so, as they claim, in higher doses he is working on norepinephrine and dopamine receptors, and not just on the serotonin, as the usual SSRI’s do.

As you can see from the picture, Effexor is covering all of the three neurotransmitters, but only in high dosages, which I take now ( 300 mg a day).

Also, it was the only pill that made me feel human after a long time.

All the others were just like giving me water drops.

I am not making a commercial here, I have friends on other antidepressants that suit them perfectly.

We are just not all the same.

What do you think about this? Antidepressants, your experiences and thoughts?


Neurotransmitters in the Brain

View original post




As I said in the title, the negative BPD characteristics make you at the same time, awesome.

It is just a question which side will prevail, negative or positive, in a specific situation.

My BPD Skin Scars In Real Life- Try Wearing A T-Shirt In Public




Yeah, it’s ugly, someone noticed in the bar, sitting behind me.

My forearms, scared, every line representing something to me.

I have turned around and said that my scars are no more ugly than his unintelligent brain.

He was too stupid to understand the meaning.


But, from that point, and even before that, I have thought what to do with these marks I made?

I bought an expensive cover up make up, but I was disgusted by the idea of camouflaging myself. It is who I am, like it or not. So I didn’t use it, not even once.

One day, I met a great guy, who is a tattoo artist. We were out, drinking beer, and I couldn’t notice his constant look on my forearm.  At first I was mad, so I asked him why the looks? Are my arms so pretty?

He said that he understands, and meant no harsh feelings, but that he was thinking about tattoos on my scars. Not to cover them all, its impossible, but to make them less visible.

I asked him how does he know that I wanted them less visible?

He said that there’s no other reason to wear a long sleeve shirt in the summer.

And he made a point. I haven’t even realised I went out with my long sleeves shirt.

I was hiding from myself.

So, we agreed to meet and make some plans about tattoo.

And yes, I got a tattoo on my forearm.

But, I liked it so much, that it has turned into a full sleeve tattoo (the whole arm), that spreads all along on my back.

Also, I got two other tattoos on my legs, because I liked them.

So, now I am not only scared, but also tattooed. Society loves me and accepts me truly ( that was sarcasm).

Not long time after that, I met a great girl, a beautiful, open-minded and highly empathic. A great person with a wonderful soul.

She is a piercing master.

Now I have at least ten piercings all around me, including the forearm.

Society approves me now even more.

In the summer, when I go out wearing a tiny T-shirt, I can feel the looks from the surrounding people. They are disgraced by my look.

Fuck that.

I concluded that I have never fitted into this society after all.

Now they have even more to look at on me and pinpoint me as a scandalous person.

Fuck that, you didn’t respect me before, I do not need your approval or respect, especially now.

I love my new me, at least new on the outside.

The inside is awaiting a soul tattoo, a mind remedy and a heart healing process.

I know all of it will become real……one day.

Until then, I plan another piercing tomorrow. Just to add more spice.

The Borderline Walk On The Line


The Border that divides me,

From being well and being me.


I fear of “recovery”, because I do not know,

If I will recognize myself  in the mirror.


Maybe I am just made to be this way.


On the Border between pain and even more pain, walking the line (Thank you Johnny Cash).

Paint It Black

“I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and I must have it painted black
Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black” -Rolling Stones.



Darkest of darkness I have ever seen,

Turned into a crack filled with the pitch-black starless space.


I merged into it, floating on the surface desperately,

While I was unwilling,  and slowly, consumed absolutely.


I turned into black, the darkness pure,

The Soul, the Heart and the Mind full of the gloomy fury.


Is there blackest than the deepest black?

Could the darkness I’ve become,

Turn into the substance more mournful than it is?


Do not wake me up,

Until the whole black mayhem is scrubbed away.

Do not make me feel,

Until the colors reappear.









The Living Art Or The Art Of Living


The Living is an art by itself.

I can only wish that The Life comes to me in a form of a real Living one day, concealed and unexpected,

Because, by know, all I have is just a survival, the constancy, day by day.


I’m breathing, therefore I am alive. But I cannot interpret it as The Living.


Living is an Art,

Full of adventures,





And above all,Conscience.


I had all of that in my Life,

But it was so surreal,

Like an old movie in black and white, without color,

With no sound attached.


Waking up every day,

Just to breathe, walk, talk and smile into the emptiness,

Makes my Life just an everyday continuity without the glare,

Without an echo.


Living is an art by itself.


So, are you Alive Or Just Breathing?!


Count me in as a Breathing and Non-existent, Awaiting for a Life to become an Art Of Living.


Hey, how fast things can fall apart!




Hey, hey, hey….how I hate this BPD.


I felt like shit for the last couple of days, but today it has escalated enormously.


I had a  meeting arranged, which I couldn’t miss, because, hey, job is a job, and I have a work to do.

I pushed myself to the end, passing my limits to get out of the apartment, get to the meeting, smile, do the presentation, talk, negotiate, make a deal.


Hey, hey, my boss will be happy!!

Fuck him.


I got home exhausted emotionally and physically. Exhausted, but yet tremendously nervous and anxious.


My body wanted to sit, but instead, I was cleaning the bathroom.

My mind wanted to sleep, but hey, I had to do the laundry.


Because, when I sat down, hey, what a disastrous mess started in my head.

“This is not good…fight it back..fight it back..”.


So I cleaned the apartment, I did everything I could just to stop myself from thinking.

But hey, eventually, I had to sit down.


I wanted to hit the wall, to take the razor, to scream until I drop.

Popped up one Klonopin to settle down a bit.

Nothing .

Hey, let’s make that two. Three. Four. I stopped counting at ten.


I felt dizzy, somehow sleepy, hey, I know that feeling, been there, done that a million times before.

But inside of me….everything you can imagine was happening at the same time.


Hey, do you know how does it feel, to feel all you that you are able to feel at once,  and so intense, that it hurts?!

I hope you don’t.


I really hate this BPD.

Hate myself. Hate everything.

If this life had a meaning, I would have found it a long time ago.

All I do now is a struggle, not to do IT again and end up this hell.


Six suicide attempts, first when I was just ten years old.

The last one was a close enough. I have been reanimated, because I stopped breathing, my heart stopped.. and fuck it, there was no tunnel with a light at the end.

Maybe the lights turned off, just for me.


Hey, I really hate this BPD.


Maybe the next time, someone will be so kind to change the bulbs in the tunnel, and turn the lights on.

I would appreciate it, thank you in advance.




Well, the same “movie plot” as my life. Unfortunately, though.

I wish that I could share something positive about psychiatrists, therapy, DBT, but there’s nothing positive I can say so far.

The pattern just repeats itself in a form of a bad experiences with everything mentioned above.

BPD sucks, it is stigmatized to the bone.

It’s enough to go to the psych appointment and when they hear BPD I always hear that “uhhhhhhhhhh” sound.

It freaks me out so much, that I had started laughing the last time I was at the first appointment.

The psych asked why I was laughing, because he didn’t say anything, he was just reading my med documentation with that “uhhhhhhh” sound.

I replied: “You are all the same. When you see BPD,you are quitting on me before we have even started”.

No appointments had been arranged for the future visits. 😀

Girl walks into a psychiatrist's office . . .

I had an appointment with the psychiatrist today.


I was hoping we could have some sort of discussion about meds – even antidepressants. I am barely functioning out there in the real world, yesterday I had to leave work early (after arriving late) … I am a ticking bomb waiting to go off and I was scared yesterday.

I have met with this psych a couple of times before and I had a good vibe from him. He did my initial pre-diagnosis and was supportive during that time.

So, I went to the appointment with some enthusiasm and hope that he might offer some words of wisdom regarding my DBT debacle and that meds could be discussed.

What a silly, silly girl I am.

Firstly, here in NSW, there is a protocol for having your case worker sit in on any psychiatric sessions. I have seen 3 shrinks over 5-6…

View original post 574 more words

Borderline Personality Disorder Cartoon

My favourite BPD Dog sufferer on the YouTube.

Video about BPD that is made in an original way, funny and entertaining, as I see it.

I don’t consider it or approve it as a real BPD picture, and it lacks a lot of other BPD symptoms and problems connected to it.

But it is definitely worth watching.

It makes me smile.

That’s a pretty good reason, isn’t it?


What do you think of this cartoon about Borderline Personality Disorder?

View original post

Did You Know?…#5

No, I did not know that.

All the scientific papers about BPD have a statistics that BPD is predominantly found in the women, also more in young women.

And why is this information so relevant?

Why are men underdiagnosed?

Because of the BPD stigma?


Did You Know - pause

that men and women suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder equally?  It’s not as well known in men because of extreme stigma.

View original post

The 4 Ego States (Modes) of the Borderline

Interesting topic. And a true one. I found myself in every four of the modes. And currently, I’m a detached protector. It lasts for a long time now. For me this is the best way to keep myself functional. And to be honest, my psych could not ever bring me into the Vulnerable Child.
My shield is too hard to be broken.

Beautifully Borderline

I read this article and OMG this is me. I tell people all the time (those who know about my BPD), that I go through emotional cycles. I’ve described these very “modes” in the cycle that I’ve noticed within myself. I didn’t necessarily realize that they were very real and consistent among those with the disorder. I’ve pasted the significant section below, but here is a link to the article itself if you’d like to read the whole thing.

To assist the therapist in maintaining appropriate engagement with borderline patients, a psychologist at Columbia named Jeffrey Young has developed an interesting way of categorizing the ego states commonly seen in borderlines. In his experience, the borderline patient will normally present four ego states, which he calls MODES:

1. The patient normally presents for therapy in an ego state which Young calls The Vulnerable Child Mode – in this mode…

View original post 567 more words

Subtypes of Borderline Personality Disorder? Do They Exist?

Psychologist Theodore Millon identified four subtypes of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

They are:

1. discouraged borderline–includes avoidant, depressive or dependent behaviors
2. impulsive borderline–includes antisocial or approval-seeking behaviors
3. petulant borderline–includes passive-aggressive behaviors
4. self-destructive borderline–includes depressive or self-destructive behaviors

A person with BPD may have none, one, or more than one of these subtypes.

1. Discouraged borderline
This is a person who believes that no matter what, they just can’t win. Consequently, he or she may avoid people, believing they will not want to be around him/her. The other extreme is he or she may be overly dependent on other people, hoping to find some sense of self-worth from them. This person may also suffer from symptoms of depression.
This person is operating in an Abandoned Child mode. He or she believes that he or she is unworthy of love and affection. He or she believes no one will want anything to do with him/her, and behaves accordingly. This may include frantic efforts to avoid the end of or disturbance of any relationship, black-and-white thinking, or unstable sense of self.


2. Impulsive borderline

This is what mental health professionals usually mean when they say “borderline”. This type of person is in constant conflict with society. Bouts of violence are not uncommon. This person does not think before acting, and the result is chaos for everyone involved. This person may have antisocial personality disorder as a co-occurring diagnosis.

This person is operating in an Abandoned Child mode–a plea for attention, any attention–as well as an Angry Child mode. The Angry Child believes that other people deserve to be punished for his/her pain, and behaves accordingly. This type of person with BPD may have poor impulse control, abuse substances, or self-harm.
On the other extreme, he or she may seek approval at any cost. In a way this is just as damaging as bouts of self-injurious behavior. He or she may not care about himself/herself; it’s all about what the other person thinks. This often results in extreme efforts to avoid disapproval and abandonment.


3. Petulant borderline
This is a passive-aggressive person. He or she will injure himself or herself–either physically or emotionally–in an attempt to get needs met. This person has an unstable sense of self, a frantic fear of abandonment, and inability to express his or her needs.
This person operates in an Angry Child mode. He or she is angry and will hurt friends and family as a result. He or she often does not recognize the anger–the world is the problem, not him/her. He or she does not know how to express his/her needs in a healthy way, so relationships seem to be a game of “If you really loved me” or “You should know what I want”.


4. Self-destructive borderline

This person often suffers from depression as a co-occurring diagnosis and is a self-injurer. Oftentimes, just these two criteria–emotional instability and self-injurious behavior–are enough to merit a diagnosis of BPD (in spite of the DSM-IV mandating a diagnosis of BPD if five of nine criteria are met). This is a person who feels that no one cares, and reacts by not caring about himself or herself. This person operates in an Abandoned Child mode. Since he or she does not feel loved, he or she reacts in self-destructive ways in an attempt to feel something instead of nothing. He or she lives in terror of abandonment, is self-loathing, and has no idea who he or she is inside. Thoughts of self-injury–or actions–are a given in this type.


I personally cannot find myself in only one of the categories.

Sometimes I am all of them, sometimes only one of them.

Critically speaking, I don’t approve this kind of “subtypes”.


I have found this article and I am sharing it with you, but I would really like to hear your opinions about this “subtypes”. Can you find yourself anywhere? Or is this just a lousy attempt of another  way of stigmatizing people with BPD?