themighty.com
77%
873
What Gave Me a Flicker of Hope When Living With Chronic Suicidality
Before I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD), my life was already hell. I was raised in an unstable and violent home. A white collar broken Victorian. I too, was a wide-eyed and lively child in the beginning, but after our family home suspiciously burned down things really went off the rails. Nothing was for certain and everything was on fire. I started glitching. My position as the family scapegoat hardened which would set into motion my eventual early estrangement. I fell behind in school and in every way imaginable. Sometimes I was depressed, with dark bags under my eyes. Other times, I became maniacally hyperactive with the temper of a UFC fighter. Rules and authority were difficult for me. Teamwork was a challenge. The word “no” aroused a dogmatic defiance. I was masterfully reckless and hair-trigger impulsive. I once dove headfirst off a bridge into a shallow river (I didn’t even think about it) to show off. I hit a pipe and cracked my head.
