Last night, I thought to myself “Hey, you should create an About Me page so people don’t think you’re offering, like, theraputic advice or something.” (Why I suspected anyone would think that, I leave to you to understand… I don’t). So I grabbed my therapy journal and started writing, and here is what I wrote, cross-outs and all:
This blog is not here to offer any advice. I’m not writing these posts to offer any advice to the world. I’m a person going through who is doing therapy for the first time. I have no insights for you or the world. Most days I count it a win if I get to work close to on-time. I’m just jotting down some thoughts to share with my therapist at our next session.
My version of Borderline Personality Disorder is not the same as yours, or that of your friend or family member with the diagnosis, and if I’m fortunate enough that my therapy ends up giving me some relief from the self-tormenting thoughts I’ve had for years, or even if it just helps me understand what’s going on, that will be wonderful, but I don’t
think that have any idea if these random jottings can help anyone else.
If something I write sparks some helpful idea for…
And then it was time for supper and Westworld (which may be a series that’s just a bit too on-point for a guy with BPD to be watching, but…).
This morning I got up and got a cup of coffee and started thinking about this About page and my blog, and my inner dialog went something like this:
Jeez, man, you’ve got some nerve writing about BPD when it’s clear you’re not suffering as much as the people you’re reading about on Twitter and on these blogs. Your symptoms are like having a head cold and these other people have brain-eating amoeba. You’ve never cut yourself, you haven’t had a serious suicidal thought since 1979, you’ve got a good job. You’re just acting spoiled again, and no one wants to read you. Your therapist at least gets paid to listen to your drivel. Just stop with the…
Et cetera, etc. etc.
And then I realized that all of this sounded a lot like my symptoms, trying to tell me I’m not worthy of even opening my fucking mouth, of even writing down a few things.
So, instead of destroying my notes and skipping creating this page, I decided to write this meta version instead.
So, yeah, if you imagine I’m here to give other BPD sufferers (all of whom are authentic Borderlines, while I’m a fake [obviously!]) advice on how to get better, well… knock that shit off. My symptoms are mild, but like I’ve seen on Twitter a few times in the last week, this isn’t a symptom contest, where only those suffering the most have any validity. I’m happy that my symptoms aren’t bad. But they’re bad enough that I was emotionally shut down for years, only occasionally (usually during a sad movie), breaking through in crying fits.
So. Welcome to my BPD blog, I guess. There are many like it, but this one is mine.