Last night was hellish but I have to say that I did a remarkable job of pulling through harm free. I dipped down the road to that dark place, the howling emptiness that swallows me, cries that can barely leave my throat but are fighting to come out. All the ugly coalescing to take hold. Cutting was up front and centre and miraculously i found the positivity to fight it off, that I could not let a few words of judgement be my be all and end all of who I was. I found that strong Vida that knew she was good and she was going to take Amanda to task for trying otherwise. Somewhere in me earlier in the night I had done some of the silly fluffy things from group, made the house pretty, lit the candles, put the soothing music on, dimmed the lights, so it felt like a haven, and when ugly struck I was not in a place of grungy disarray to make it worse. Writing always helps and when the urge to cut came on I poured as much as I could onto paper. I picked my self up from the ball on the floor, found consciousness, that light, and cleaned myself up. I watched a dance on SYTYCD on addiction, where she was fighting against addiction and she lost, in my case it was turned around, I was the one pushing addiction down.
I wish it wasn’t so lonely having BPD, it is a very very solitary place where no one can fully understand you. Friends are wonderful, family loves me, but no one gets me. As sad as I was to hear other BPD sufferers say the same in group, that most of their days are hollow even with friends, it made me feel better that it affects us all, this isolating disease we have where we spend most of our days pretending to fit in.