I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I’m held captive by my illnesses. They keep me from going out, even just to the grocery store; my mental health makes me afraid of leaving home, and my physical illnesses make leaving home difficult. My depression makes me not want to get out of bed. My chronic pain makes getting out of bed too hard a lot of days. My borderline personality disorder (BPD) makes me long for companionship, but my social anxiety makes me terrified to be around people. My negativity from the bitterness I’ve acquired has made me a person others don’t want to be around. I can’t blame them… I don’t even want to be around me, but I don’t have a choice. I’m locked inside this body and this mind that I don’t want anymore. I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t fix my health. Everyone tells me I’m the only thing standing in my way, but there are some things that I can’t fix. I can’t snap my fingers and make everything okay. I can’t magically stop being so anxious that I hide when the UPS man comes to the door. I can’t stop being so depressed that even bathing is too much for me to handle. I can’t undo years of trauma and have my BPD disappear. They act like I’m not trying to change. I’m trying my hardest and I’m not getting anywhere. I live the same day, every day, over and over. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be locked inside this hell. I’m suffocating. I need a change. I need happiness. Nothing makes me feel good anymore. I feel like every day I’m just waiting to die, sometimes hoping for it so that I don’t have to live this way. I often hope that I get into a terrible accident and I’m pronounced DOA. I feel like I have nothing to live for. The only thing keeping me here was my family and I’ve just about lost them all. I’ve got nothing left. I’ve been out of college for two years now and I’ve gotten nowhere. I feel like time is frozen, I’m stuck in one place while everyone else around me is achieving their goals and their lives are naturally progressing as they should. I’m trapped. The last two years have been the worst of my life. Being a college graduate with goals I can’t work towards, being single and not hopeful I’ll find anyone because, let’s be honest, who really wants to be with someone like me? I want a husband. I want a family. I want to go to grad school. I want a career that I love. I want to enjoy life. I can’t remember the last time I was truly happy. I’m losing more every day. I thought that sharing my journey with chronic illness and navigating through all of the garbage that goes along with it, plus mental illness thrown into the mix, would be inspirational to others. I wanted to bring awareness to so many things. I wanted to help people. I wanted to make other people feel less alone. I know there are some people who can relate and who have felt less alone because of me sharing my experiences. However, making my entire life public has been one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made. My YouTube channel has brought so much pain, from people telling me I’m untrustworthy because of my BPD to telling me that “no wonder you’re alone” because I’m such a mess. I’m not the kind of person who can handle criticism, so I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to share my life. I don’t even like myself, so having to deal with other people disliking me just makes me feel worse about myself. I’m not likable. I’ve never been a likable person. I’m negative, bitter, annoying, stubborn, and a host of other less-than-appealing traits… of course I’m not liked. I can’t change who I am as a person. I am who I am, but I don’t like who I am. I want to be someone else. I wish I could change everything about myself. I try so hard to be positive, to be more optimistic, but I get nowhere. I feel like I’m spinning in circles trying and trying and not making any kind of progress.
I want to be able to do things without having to think so much. I don’t want leaving home to be such a chore every single time. I want to be able to go out to a restaurant and not have to worry if the food is going to make me sick. I don’t want to have to worry where the bathroom is everywhere I go in case I need to get sick. I want to be able to go to the grocery store and not have to go through the self-checkout line just because I’m terrified to interact with cashiers. I want to be able to go on mini road trips without worrying about whether or not I’ll be able to drive back home because I’m too exhausted. I want to stop being tethered to a tube on a daily basis. I don’t want to worry anymore about carrying batteries, saline flushes, alcohol swabs, heparin flushes, extra port dressings, and medications everywhere I go. I don’t want to need to carry plastic bags in my purse just in case I need to throw up and there’s nowhere nearby to do it. I want to be able to go to the movies without worrying about my anxiety kicking in and having to leave halfway through, or having to leave because I’m sick. I don’t want to worry about sensory overload. I don’t want to take pills 4 times a day. I don’t want to have to worry so much about food. Am I eating enough? Am I eating the right things? Am I losing more weight? Are my organs at risk? Nothing is simple. Both my mental health and my physical health interact to cause problems with my daily life, with the simplest of tasks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly thankful for the treatment I have available to me, but I want to not need it.
I don’t want to be suicidal nearly every day. I don’t want to have to keep tweaking my medications because I’m either too depressed, too anxious, too numb… there’s no right combination. I don’t want to have to work so hard to try not to hurt the people I love most. BPD is a constant struggle. I push people away without realizing it. I push people away and lose them for good. It takes ending up in the hospital from an overdose for anyone to really care. What does that say about me? I’m not a good person. If I were a better person, it wouldn’t take such horrible things for people to be there for me. I want to be a good friend. I want to be a good sister, daughter, and aunt. I often think about what would happen if I died. Would people come to my funeral? Would people truly care that I was gone? Would people talk about how much I positively influenced their lives? I can’t help but think I’ve affected people negatively more than I have influenced them positively. I want to impact others in a positive way. I want to help. That’s all I have ever wanted.
I need to change; for me, first and foremost, but also for the people around me and for people I have yet to meet.