Food. Food. Food and food. It’s all my mind thinks about. About how I can skip meals about how I’ve eaten too much. About my next meal. About what I’ve consumed. About the calories. The fat. The saturated fat. About weather it’s too much. About it sitting there in my stomach. About it bloating me. Making me fat. About the taste about the guilt when I enjoy it. About the shame when I’ve eaten it. About it all. It’s always on my mind. There’s no let up. Ever. It’s either thinking about what I’ve eaten or what I’m about to eat. All the bloody time. It rules my life. It’s taking over. The thoughts are getting stronger. Getting worse. Every time I see a mirror I check my thighs. Check if there’s a gap. I check my legs. Check my stomach and see if it’s sticking out. Check my arms and my bingo wings. It doesn’t matter to me that I’m in size 6 jeans. My brain doesn’t register this. It doesn’t mean I’m slim. I still believe I’m fat. Obscenely fat. Like “look at that girl” fat. I really do. I’m comparing myself to everyone I see. Every celebrity in the papers, social media. Looking at there stomachs and comparing there’s to mine. Looking at the slim frames and seeing my massive frame. It’s all my mind thinks about. When I hear it read that people have lost weight. It’s hard. It’s hard to digest that when I’m being told to put weight on. In a world that is geared up for everyone to lose weight. To try this diet or that diet. To exercise so much, to go to the gym, to walk 10000 steps, to get up off the sofa. It’s so hard to be told I need to put weight on. And it’s so hard to.
Yesterday I got weighed in my day patient clinic and I’ve put weight on. Yes I’m still a way off my tavern weights but I put weight on and it’s not sitting well. It’s in my mind. Even more so now. I’m not eating this weekend. My parents are away so it’s easy to skip all meals. I’ll live off some sweets. Pepsi max and alcohol. That will do me. I don’t need food. I need to lose that weight I’ve put on. Every day my stomach gets a bit bigger. Every day the gap between my thighs shrinks. Every day it’s getting harder. And if all that wasn’t enough I’ve personal “drama” going on too and Ive just had an appointment come from to see a physiatrist to officially diagnose me with borderline personality disorder. Anorexia. Depression. And bpd. No wonder I’m alone. No wonder I’m single. No wonder I’m lost in life and want it to end. No wonder I find relief when i cut myself. No wonder I’m not coping. I’m not made out for life. Life isn’t for me. I’m just failing. Massively. Letting everyone down. I’m a mess. A state. A waste of space.
Just a little lost 
With every sentence I read, I screamed ‘me!me!me!. I was put on mirtazapine and gained about 12kgs in 2 months. I tell myself I need to get back to running, coz I used to run 4 days a week a year ago. I manage to wake up yet can’t get myself to get out of the house. Maybe we should come up with a plan and keep each other accountable? I understand you feel like a waste of space…I do too. But maybe we can start small, and just try and walk around long enough to make 10,000 steps. Don’t beat yourself up too hard.
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I’ve been right there. I’ve known that I wasn’t built to make it through life. But do you know what the funny thing is? Fifteen years later and I’ve learned that life isn’t about being what others think you should be. I used to think I couldn’t be a husband, a father, a worker, a writer … and in the end I am all of those things not because I worked to become them, but because I became them regardless of my disbelief. I promise you that you can live, even if it feels like you won’t be able to function in society. It isn’t about society. It’s about you, and surviving one day at a time. And I believe you can.
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Having been given the diagnosis formally of bpd doesn’t need to be a curse, it could actually out as a positive. You are the same person today as you were yesterday and will be tomorrow. The day you get the formal diagnosis will not make you any different to the person you were before it was ever suggested. You already had the condition, already lived with it, the day you were told you might had it didn’t suddenly make you any iller than you were the day week or month before, it just identified itvthat day. But that can be a good thing having it identified….. this can help you explain and understand why you feel, respond, experience, believe and do some of the irrational things you do. And that in itself means that its not just who you are and unchangable, but that tgeres a reason why you think/feel/do etc these things, a reason why that’s not your fault and not because your a bad or evil person. Which can help you understand why and therefore perhaps identify and create more successful ways to challenge those thoughts and behaviours and have better more appropriate strategies to cope. It will also better enable medical professionals to understand you and enable you to access support and therapy specialised to bpd. Being diagnosed now doesn’t mean you’ve got iller and picked up another illness, it just means your being better understood and if you want it to, could open doors of change for you. X
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