Hi All,
I've had Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) just about always, although we didn't know it till much later. And compared to Bipolar it is the BPD that is more prevalent in my life. When I was growing up I had to be treated differently than my other siblings because of this. I don't know much about it, but part of it has to do with seeing things subjectively versus objectively - to the extreme. One of my therapists told me that when my brain's told to react on a scale of 1-10, due to my disorder I only have two choices...1 and 10, but also magnified to more like -10 and 20.
You can ask my parents, but I think I was getting a better grasp on it when towards the end of high school. But then, when I got back from my internship in Canada at 18, the sudden onset of Bipolar just made things ridiculously more complicated. Because not only did I begin to have ups and downs, but due to BPD my ups and downs were drastically amplified. The biggest problem was I didn't learn any of this until a couple months down the road after the Bipolar "set in."
Let me dig into this a little deeper. No one knows what causes Bipolar, or most mental illnesses. There's a strong genetic impact though. If you have an aunt or grandmother, so on and so forth, your more likely to have this disorder, although it may be dormant. People are known to have an onset from as early as 5 years of age (although doctors are not allowed to treat it as such with one so young) to as late as 45. I haven't heard many people's stories about when they became bipolar, because I suspect, not many people know. It's not until it gets bad enough to be acknowledged that it gets identified.
My sudden onset was crazy easy to plot on a timeline because I was such a "good girl." I was 18 and independent. I had a great relationship with my parents, siblings, friends, God. I was doted on as the baby at work, given "cookie breaks" instead of smoke breaks. I felt like everything was perfect. And then, I really don't know how it happened. One minute I'm proud of myself for my independent, march-to-the-beat-of-my-own-drum personality who always turns down offers to go to parties and then one day it's like a switch turned off or something. I let a girl take me to a party and within the next week, week you guys! I had my first drink, got drunk, had my first blunt, got high and lost my virginity. And all that was like adding fuel to embers, suddenly, poof! my life is a bonfire. That is sudden onset.
Of course, I tried to hide this life from my parents, and managed a dual personality for a while. I find, that while everyone knows I'm an atrocious liar, when my life depends on it, I'm smoother than a shot of Cabo Wabo (that's tequila Mom - hey I can still make jokes!). But seriously now, you question me on this statement. "Katie, you're exaggerating again. Telling the truth about partying would not jeopardize your life." But think now. I've been giving you insight to this new kind of mind and in mine the world ended if my parents found out I was partying. I literally couldn't see anything past that day...and when they found out, it did end and you won't change my mind about that. Up and till then I could ignore the fact that I had lost it, but then facing the changes in my life, nothing was the same. One era ended, another began.
I instantly became suicidal. And you should know, there are two different types of being suicidally susceptible. Because initially I was the passive suicidee and later I was more aggressive. After the end to my world I just didn't care what happened to me. I wasn't actively looking for ways to die, because honestly? I didn't even have the strength to put forth effort. But it would have been so, very, very easy to have let go of the wheel on my way to one of the counseling sessions. That's passive. let's not talk about aggressive today.
Of course, no one knew ANY of this except my parents, not even my siblings. I stopped everything and hid in my room. I told my parents not to tell ANYONE and wouldn't take any calls asking where I was or what was going on. I was petrified of people finding out. Mom tried to make me go to church one day, but I couldn't do it. I started crying hysterically and refused to go in. No one understood why, I didn't understand why. But Mom figured it out before I did. I was scared, because in my past life everything was great, everything was perfect and amazing and my life outlook was pure. And everyone else I knew was like that too, obviously. All my friends and their families anyways, anybody I knew.
How could I let those perfect people know I was so screwed up? If they found out I'd just be pitied and looked down upon. I'd never be respected or loved again. I didn't know this is how I was thinking, but luckily Mom did catch on, and she started letting stories drop about people in the church (only ones who didn't mind) who also were having difficulties, of any kind. And yet, it still took me years to understand I'm not the only one who has problems. Worse though, was that when I figured this out I was angered by the fact that people put up this good front, portray this perfect life, when in reality, it's not.
I'm not writing this blog to attack anyone, I promise, but I have yet to figure out why people hide their troubles. If we were more open about our struggles the devil wouldn't have such a foothold on our souls. Avoiding looking at them, acknowledging them, talking about them, they fester and grow. We need accountability and help from others with the same types of weaknesses. But how can we find these people with the same types of problems if we can't even talk about them?
There are enough people out there who look at me funny when I mention suicide attempts, alcohol, drugs or sex and they're many times Christians, the one set of people I should feel safe talking to about these things. I still have a hard time to this day talking about almost any of my struggles, because mine are the "socially unacceptable" ones, at least to Christians. In the non-Christian world it's easy to talk about, and yes, the major reason for this is it's usually condoned, but that also means I'm a lot more likely to talk to someone who condones my behavior than to someone who condemns me for it and that's not good.
Which in turn means you're probably not going to get many converts from the people in the world I lived in if you're not even willing to discuss why having a one night stand leaves a gaping hole in you, when it was so much fun and you felt fine before the guy got up and left without leaving his name or number. If you don't know what to say to a person like that, then you haven't talked with enough people who have "socially unacceptable" problems. And, as we've been talking about in Sunday school, it comes down to pride. We have too much pride to let people know about our faults. Or in this case of this Pharisee, we are too righteous to even acknowledge them.
9 To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: 10 “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers
, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
13 “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
14 “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” ~Luke 18:9-14
There's two things I want you to take away from this. The obvious one, don't condone, pretty self-explanatory and one I partially covered. The not so obvious one...look closer at verse 13. "But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’" You think that those people out there, partying, getting wasted, sleeping around are being stupid? Well yes, but do you know why? There's that hole, that huge gaping hole and it hurts so so bad. let's do something, anything that can fill it, even if it's just for a second! Let's numb the pain with alcohol, let's subdue those self-loathing voices with drugs, let's try to find a moment of love or pleasure in the touch of another human just as lonely as myself.
And it works to an extent. Those people are having a blast! Truly. But only while they're, what we call "self-medicating", which is why they're constantly partying till 3 am in the morning, till they pass out, because how else are they going to get to sleep? Not by thinking about the hell they're living in that's for sure. These are the people that we need to talk to! These are the people that need to be heard - the good, the bad and the ugly. Let us not shy away from subjects because they offend our way of thinking, because that poor 16 year old boy punching holes in the wall, or that 19 year old girl cutting herself, the young alcoholic, the slightly older crack whore, they, like everyone else in the world, need someone who is willing to listen and try to understand...why. For in one or another, they hate themselves.
I hated myself with a vengeance during those difficult years. I literally said to myself - out loud - every time I looked in the mirror, "you're a slut, you're a hoe." It was almost a mantra. I didn't believe anyone could or would ever love me. Now, I'm not saying people who hate themselves are going to Heaven, but these are the types of people who, once they realize they CAN somehow be pure again, will end up like this tax-collector, beating their chest and shouting, "Please forgive me! You did so much for me and yet I never repay you with thanks but as with slander I cut you down! I am so sorry!"
And I still feel self-loathing sometimes. It was only two weeks ago that I caught myself banging my head against the wall behind my bed, "Why can't you change? why can't you be a "good girl" again? Why do you always go back to that evil way of living?!" I've screwed up and I know it. I still screw up and it's only through grace, or rather, the forgiveness of someone who will forgive us because He loves us and not because we deserve it, that I am ever going to make it to Heaven. To those of you who are reading my blog more for the relevance to your own life. Maybe you hate yourself as much as I did, or maybe you don't even know you do, as I didn't. Well then, to you especially, take heart in this verse and not because it's putting those Pharisees in their place, but because it's God saying, "don't worry, I got you."
You may not know yet, why or how he would do this: pardon the wrongs of such sinners, but for now be content in knowing that acknowledging your sins is the first step to closing that distance between you and Jesus Christ. Seeing that there's a problem, even if you don't know how to handle it and then maybe even taking it a step further and deciding that's not who you want to be anymore. Those are the giant baby steps that will be the aspirin to the migraine you have from banging your head against the wall.
