ITS ALL IN YOUR HEAD

entry five

Another fun thing about my life is I get to deal with memory loss and hallucinations!

I hardly remember anything from my childhood. People talk about good times or show me pictures and I literally cannot remember any of that happening. Even in recent years, you can ask me if I remember what we did a few months ago and I usually can't tell you. I have a foggy idea. But it's like my memory's get glossed over and overexposed like an old photograph. My dreams are hyper realistic— usually just playing out like I'm living just another day with the occasional odd ball thing happening. But it gets easy for me to mistake dreams for reality.

Once I had a conversation with one of my few friends to meet. I waited and waited. They never showed. So I reached out and they were just as confused as I was. I had never actually spoken to them. It took me looking back on my phones history to prove I hadn't called them. It seemed to real, but it hadn't happened.

I find that my hallucinations are peaked during times of stress.

They aren't full blown schizophrenic delusions. They are just shifting shadows I catch out of the corner of my eye. Hearing someone call my name even when they hadn't. Heading the door bell when no one rang. Feeling like I'm being watched when I am very clearly alone.

Sometimes I'll feel something crawling on my skin. I'll do what any normal person does and try to get it off. I'll look and visibly see there isn't any spider crawling on me, but that feeling is still there. It's like it's under my skin and I can't get it out.

Most of the time it's the shifting shadows I deal with. The auditory delusions are rare for me. I remember the first time it happened. I was sixteen, my siblings and I were alone at our house, and I clearly saw the shadow of a man standing in one of the bedrooms and moving into the washroom.

I saw it so clearly, I locked us in the basement and called my parents. Who were very mad when they came home and checked the cameras only to find no one was there.

I had scared everyone unnecessarily so I got a long and loud lecture.

They thought I had done it for attention.

But it's clear now what it really was. That same year I was under so much stress and pressure I had my first auditory hallucination as well. I kept hearing my mother calling my name, but when I would come to her she would say she hadn't called for me, or sometimes she wouldn't even be home.

I thought I was going crazy.

But I'm not crazy.

I'm not crazy.

Maybe I am. I don't know anymore. I know it's not normal to feel this way, butI wish I was never born.

Who knows. Maybe if I had different circumstances I would feel differently. Life is not appealing to me anyways. I was twelve years old the first time I thought of killing myself. I remember it vividly. Watching the cars speeding carelessly down the road I had to force myself still, trying to stop myself from running infront of them. I wanted it to look like an accident. I wanted it to be painful. I wanted my life to be over. Back then I didn't know it had a name. Back then I just knew i would rather not be alive.

See, even then I knew I was a mistake.

I was never meant to be here. My parents were not shy about letting me know— even if it was hidden behind jokes and smiles. But mostly it was brought up with tears and harsh words like knives to make me feel guilty about even existing.

I was made by raging teenage hormones, a bottle of rum and a defective condom. Never with love.

All my life I have been fighting to be good enough. And I've come to realize that I need to accept that sometimes people will never be happy with you. You can gut yourself, make yourself hallow for them and they will still want more.

But that is harder to accept then it sounds.

I was lectured about just 'going through the motions' of life. Not excelling. Not advancing. Not perfect.

"I'm just trying to keep my head above water. Sorry if I'm not swimming laps."

That wasn't the right response.

When I confided in my family that I would rather be dead, I was berated. They were angry that I don't 'appreciate' the life they gave me.

"Do you even know how much I sacrificed for you? Do you think I wanted this, X?"

"We could have had an abortion."

And honestly I wish they would have.

They weren't concerned that I would try again to take my life. In fact they asked why I haven't done it yet if that's how I feel. And honestly the only answer I can think of is... how disappointed they would be of me.

And yet despite all of that... I still crave their approval. Yet relying so much on their acceptance is a double edged sword. It's one of the things that keeps me alive. I know if I take my own life they will view that as 'losing' or as 'the cowardly way out'. But as soon as I either lose or think I lose that it makes me that much worse.

I hate that they have the power to make or break me. But I can't stop it.

It's like a drug.

I need that reassurance. I need that approval.

Borderline Personality Disorder is like a hodgepodge of so many other mental disorders, that it's sometimes impossible to pinpoint what is wrong. I am classified as 'high functioning', 'discouraged', or 'quiet bpd'. That's why I feel so damn worthless and need to self destruct to try to manage my emotions. That's why bottle everything up and no one really sees how bad it is until it's too late. That's why I try to please, and why I'm so damn clingy and can't let my own abusers leave me.

"You just need to get over yourself."

I can't just 'get over' this.

I'm so tired of fighting to stay alive for people who don't care, while my mind actively fights to have me die.

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to try to please them. I don't want to keep giving everyone the power to destroy me.

But I can't stop myself.