Tuesday, October 19, 2004

What a morning

What a morning I've had and I haven't even been awake that long. Had my therapy appointment with Ms. J today. I don't like this woman anymore. I can't wait for Ms. S to come back from medical leave. Ms. J got me so pissed off today that I just want to throw my hands up and surrender to the depression.

We were talking about all the bullshit I've been going through with trying to get help, and how difficult on me it is. The crap with the group therapy and the bullshit with being switched around with therapists. How I feel that for every step forward I try to make, I get shoved back another 20, so it feels like I will never make any progress. Told her it all just makes me feel there is no hope.

Then she asked the triggering question..."Why do you think it's all about you?" As if none of this should be effecting me in a negative way because the problems I was bringing up are a result of other peoples actions and I have no control over them. I can't control that Ms. S had to have surgery, I couldn't control whether the idiots would show up for group or that the group would be canceled.

Told her she was missing the point. I know I can't control other people. I know those things aren't being done to deliberately screw me over. But these types of situations ALWAYS arise every time I put forth the effort to make things better for myself. As if the roadblocks in my own head weren't enough, I keep slamming into ones that are being put in front of me in every direction by others. Even if they aren't put there deliberately, they're still there and still making it nearly impossible to get moving in a forward direction.

Wish someone could get inside my head. Then they could see and feel all the things going on in there that I apparently can't verbally convey well enough. They could feel the hatred I have towards myself. They could feel the ache of emptiness that is so strong I feel it in the pit of my stomach every day. They could see the tornado of thoughts swirling around in my head that make it so difficult to remember or concentrate. They could feel the rage I feel so often and see how it consumes me in an instant.

Until a person experiences borderline personality disorder first hand, I don't think they would ever be able to comprehend how this disorder ravages your brain. The books and articles written about it don't even come close to conveying the level of suffering borderlines experience. There are no words strong enough.


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