I google “how to hang yourself from a radiator” in the waiting room before ducking out for a quick cry.
BON: I stumbled on this over the weekend. It’s worth the time to read. It really captures the desperation of BPD.
A Horrifying Week with My Borderline Personality Disorder
by Heather Sleepy
OCT 23, 2015
I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder last December, but that was only the beginning of my troubles. This is my diary of what came after.
Monday is relatively chill. I manage to make it to work for 10 AM, only 30 minutes late. I’m 100 percent sure my boss thinks I’m a dick. He most definitely treats me unfavorably and this is most definitely because I’m late nine times out of 10, recurringly incapable of hitting deadline, and I’m pretty sure he’s aware I allocate too much of the working day to sobbing in the bathroom. Nethertheless, he doesn’t say anything to me.
Before 1pm I’ve already puked once from anxiety and deleted my Facebook profile for the zillionth time this week. Around 3 PM I phone my ex-boyfriend and beg him to come back. He says no and asks me to go to the bathroom, stuff my hands in my pants and send him a photo. I do. It stops the shaking and sweating till about 6.30 PM when I get back home. My room’s a mess. Swollen with moldy plates, grubby underwear, and flies. I slink into bed, whack on Rick and Morty, neck some sleeping pills and wake up on Tuesday.
Work is impeccably whack today. I manage to make it in on time and even sneak in a two hour lunch. By midday I’m feeling unbearably anxious so I convince a friend to meet me for lunch. We hit a restaurant called Lyle’s and I have a bottle of wine, goat’s heart, and brisket. I check my phone 42 times but am feeling far less anxious upon my return to work despite being undeniably turnt and unable to do anything productive for the remaining duration of the day.