Tuesday, 10 December 2013

"Wait... They Don't Love You Like I Love You" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

I have been lying my entire life.

To others and to myself. About who I am, what I want, and how much I fit in.

I am reforming myself.

A few months ago, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. This was, in equal parts, shocking and unsurprising. Unsurprising because I knew there was more to my mental health than depression. I never quite fit in to that mould either. Shocking because now it’s real. It’s not my imagination, it’s not paranoia, it is a fact that I’d have to admit to others, and worse, to myself. Scary stuff.

In my bravado, I took it on and looked at all the ‘criteria’ I fit in order to be diagnosed. In the first few days, there was a lot of reading and "OMG"; there was also a lot of “FINALLY! Now I understand why I do that!” and “It’s like they’re writing about my life!” too.

Here I was, meeting almost all of these criteria.
Here I was, being put in to words.
Here I was being validated, accepted…understood.
Here I was, with BPD.

The subsequent weeks have been a roller-coaster to say the least. I did research, I owned it, I explained it, I contemplated it but I never digested it. I never absorbed the implications, the understanding. I was so wrapped up with finally finding answers and being understood that I never truly thought of what this actually means to me now. 

What does this mean to me now?

This means that I have to work through a million different emotions about it all. The funny thing is, I've never felt more validated in my life. And it is killing me.

I've lied to myself and other people my whole life:

“I’m overreacting.”
“I don’t care.”
“I fit in everywhere, I’m a social butterfly.”
“It doesn't really hurt.”
“I’m sorry.”

My reactions to things were abnormal, so I looked to other people to emulate proper reactions to situations, even though I was dying inside. I needed other people to tell me how to feel. I created masks to fit in, to be normal. I was good at everything so I never had to excel at anything. I fit in everywhere to mask never fitting in anywhere.

I've been obsessed with being the perfect person, always processing/reacting/behaving in the correct way, fitting the patterns, being my twisted idea of normal. Now I don’t have to beat myself up for being different?

I’m not sure I can cope with that.