A glimpse into my scatty mind.

I’ve been told many times that I’m a strong woman and that I come across as always cheerful. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I have a phobia of masks (yes it is, as ridiculous as it sounds.) Ironically I wear a mask in public everyday. To the outside world, including family and friends, I am fine. There is nothing on my mind and I am carefree and happy. I am the best mother I can be, the best daughter I can be, the best sister and Aunt I can be. However, not buried that deep beneath the surface, I am in pain physically and emotionally.

Borderline (Emotionally Unstable) Personality Disorder is a nasty and draining mental health problem and there is not a lot of awareness or knowledge about it. That’s if you don’t count the many serial killers or murderers that have been diagnosed. There are more people in the world that live with BPD everyday that do not go around taking lives, than there are that do go around taking lives. We’re not all killers or psychopaths. I’ve been diagnosed with this illness for around 5 years now, nearly 6, and I’m no closer to understanding my mind. I’ve done therapy’s and meditation along with medications. Nothing has really helped to settle my symptoms. The only person that can pull me away from my suicidal thoughts on a weekly basis is my 9 year old daughter. I don’t mean she knows about my mental health because of course she doesn’t. But when I’m really low and down and feeling like I’m drowning which is at least once or twice every couple of days, just the thought of her not having her mother around is enough to pull me back in. Admittedly not straight away. There have been times where I have sat on my bed all night with a bottle of Captain Morgans and a bunch of pills. I will um and ah over the situation through silent tears and then my alarm goes off for the morning routine of breakfast and getting her to school. And just like that I make it through another suicidal night and become Mum again.

It’s hard to understand someone with this. One minute they can be high as a kite and happier than a kid (or adult to be fair) at Disneyland, the next they could be low and depressed and crying because it’s time to leave and in their mind they believe you are rejecting them, and they will probably never see you again. It sounds extreme but truthfully, it is. Anyone who knows me would tell you, I have trouble being apart from my daughter. When she went on her first residential trip last year (for 2 nights and 3days,) I genuinely cried so much when she said goodbye to me and as the coach pulled away, I fell to the floor. I struggled through those 3 days. I felt empty. I was paranoid something bad was going to happen and I may possibly never see her again. Thinking about this now is making me emotional and it’s over. She’s here with me asleep in bed but it still hurts remembering that day. BPD people love harder than any other individual, but we also cut people off fast and sharp. When we’re done, we are done. We push the people we love away to avoid the pain of the “eventual” rejection. It’s always exciting with a BPD sufferer. You never know what each day or minute is going to hold. It can change at a flick of a switch. Madness!

So that’s the general gist of what I’m living with emotionally. I said above about me also having depression and anxiety but there’s so much knowledge and awareness about that, so I don’t see the point in boring you all with it. This blog is my way of coping and looking back on the rough, dark and light and wonderful things that are going to come my way this year. I’ve always had a passion for writing. My intention is to share my life of being a Mother with illness and how I cope and get through the year. This year is about creating more good memories with my girl and indulging in a passion of my own. Writing. Even if I’m no good it, it’s making me feel more free already, and at the end of the day that’s what life is about, isn’t it? Finding the people and things that make you feel free.

Kimmi’s Qualms X

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