Her memories faded, even in her days of youth. As time went on the cherished memories of her childhood slowly disappeared, leaving empty holes. The memories she could recall were the ones documented, photographed, and saved. Anything else was gone like the fading lines from a firework; beautiful at one point, gone seconds later.
The writing above describes something I go through daily. The picture was taken by me a few years ago on 4th of July. Before I dive in, this post is meant to describe life after a diagnosis I finally got and may be triggering for some.
Less than a year ago I was admitted in to a mental facility following a couple of very, very rough days. Some may know about this as close friends were notified to offer prayers and love throughout the process. I was there for three and a half days and the entire time was a battle to get out. I got paperwork forged as they said I wouldn’t sign my rights, I got put on a mandatory hold after asking how long I would be in, and I got yelled at by the doctor when I told him they were wasting their resources on me. It wasn’t a lie; I wasn’t suicidal, I had given up self harm by then, and was doing worse there than I was at home. While the entire experience was horrible for me*, it led to the most eye opening and healing path that I’m currently taking my journey on.
After I got discharged I was referred to a therapist to continue my healing, which was mandatory after being in a mental facility. I met with someone who, through the power of communication and time, diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). After weeks of going and finally crossing bi-polar off the list, I got the diagnosis that changed my life. Side note, BPD and bi-polar are often misdiagnosed as each other because they share many similar traits – mine was ruled out by a medication process. My journey towards truly healing could now finally begin. In years prior, I had been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, anxiety disorder, and social anxiety disorder. I had tried, for years, to live my life a way that should’ve been helping me. I had spent countless hours researching, been put on multiple medications, and had tried everything but I was still miserable.
At 20 years old my death sentence became my ticket to a better life. I continued going to therapy, taking my prescribed medication, and spent even more time researching and understanding what was going on. At 21, I no longer go to therapy (I will in the future, it just isn’t fitting at this time), I’m no longer on my meds, and I understand how my mind thinks better than I ever have.
With BPD comes many hurdles. I have lost friendships. I have lost relationships. I dissociate, which leads to my memory “loss”. I have spending impulses. I have abandonment issues/fears. I have to remind myself who I am and what I want. I have to watch my anger. I have extreme mood swings, some rapid cycling. I have trust issues. I tattooed over my scars as a constant reminder not to self harm. I have suicidal thoughts**. Most of these things I have dealt with since I was 11, some didn’t come until I got older. Nonetheless, these are all symptoms I ignored, pushed away, and didn’t talk about. I didn’t understand why I was so “different”, why I was cursed with a “sick mind”. I got my answer a year ago when I was diagnosed and vowed I would never treat someone with mental illnesses the way I was treated in the facility. I vowed I would view my “sick mind” not as a curse, but as a beautiful blessing.
What I go through is why I take pictures; I want to remember my life. I want to document the happy, sad, beautiful. My symptoms, on top of losing my grandmother, was why I didn’t go through joining the Air Force like I had planned. This is why I am now working out and documenting my progress. With no longer being on my medication I’m trying to focus on my body, mind, and feelings more than I ever have and exercise is my new medication. Yes, my life took an unexpected turn but it turned out to be for the better.
I’m grateful to have people in my life that choose to view me not as my disorders, but for who I make myself to be. I could choose to be a sulking mess, or I could choose to be a she-beast that makes the best out of the worst. This could’ve been my death sentence, my reason out. It has been my reason to keep living.
If you struggle, please seek help. Research what you’re going through because I promise you’re not alone. If you need to talk, text me. Call me. Go to my contact page and email me. I’m a listening ear. You’re strong enough to overcome and conquer. We’re in this together.
❤
*While this experience was bad for me, it may not be for you. There were people there getting the help they needed, it just wasn’t a good fit for me.
**I am not suicidal. With my disorder comes suicidal thoughts with no set plan, just ‘what-ifs’. If you have a set date, plan, etc. please reach out and get help.
The Learning Gyppie 