black tar
a synopsis of living with borderline personality disorder
Living with borderline personality disorder is like living with someone you despise…where so much resentment and hatred has festered within that home that you’d do anything to get rid of that person.
Oftentimes, it’d feel as if there were two different people within me, and as if my existence were translucent enough for someone to reach in and grab the very thing that ate away at my entire being.
And if you could, you would find that this very thing is something similar in appearance to a black tar —
ravenous and starved, hungry for my mind’s ability to distinguish a dream from the reality before me, reminding me constantly that I am alone and all the terrible reasons of why that is, and with that, a vulnerability to the external world, eager to take advantage of me and leave me out to dry at any chance given.
A black tar — ravenous and hungry for my heart and its ability to see through kindness and love, merely to perceive others and myself through a lens of pure, unadulterated, unchained rage and hatred.
A black tar — ravenous and hungry for my soul’s ability to find contentment in the world unless completely illusioned through alcohol and recklessness.
Living with borderline personality disorder is like living with someone who actively destroys your every chance at hope for something better, then asks you, why aren’t you happy?
I’ve recently, after over a decade with this poison in my heart, gotten not only a glimpse of hope, but a grasp as well.
I’m healing — I’m recognizing destructive patterns, left to challenge them for the better, I’m taking care of my heart, its containments and what I put into it, opening it more to empathy, compassion, and a desire to understand; I’m allowing myself to feel, knowing that everything is still okay, I’m allowing myself to be, knowing that all that I am is more than enough — I’m improving my relationship with the [wo]man in the mirror… and just as any relationship worth fighting for, even on days of challenge, I remember that, for once, I have hope…it’s in my hands now.
