[Qy10]

I don't even care if anyone reads it, but I need to get it out. These memories and thoughts plague me. They haunt my waking hours and find their way into my dreams and nightmares.

There's no one to talk to about them because frankly, no one gives a ****. My boyfriend is tired of hearing about my issues and doesn't care to learn anything about BPD to better understand how I feel and operate. That, and most people in my life don't know about what I'm about to write.

When I was 5, my mom was dating someone named Brian. I didn't know my real dad. I had never met him and I didn't even know his name. My mom and Brian had a son, my brother, Shayne.

Throughout elementary school, I used to always ask about my dad. Did I lol like him? Did we have the same personality as him? What color were his eyes? What was his name?

Brian wasn't very nice to me. He was verbally cruel, but never physical. I wasn't his biological child, so I couldn't do anything right. Shayne was an angel that could get away with murder.

My mom and Brian fought.. A lot. My mom defended me... A lot.

I finally met my dad when I was 11-12 years old. I always thought that I would be so angry with him and part of me was. The other part was just happy that I finally knew my dad. And I had 3 brothers that I never knew about! My dad has a wife and again, I wasn't the biological child, so I was lesser than.

It opened a world of confusing feelings though and I started cutting and smoking weed. I was happy, but holy ****, I was angry, too. Angry that he wasn't around. Angry that my mom was so evasive about him. Angry that I didn't know him from birth. Angry that I didn't feel that bond that a daughter should feel with her father. Angry that I was a total outcast with that side of the family. So angry that I refused to hug him, tell him I love him, refused to call him dad. I told him that he didn't earn that title.

We had an argument and stopped talking for about 2 years. I'd say, from 13 years old to 15 years old.

When I was 13, I went to a party and drank way too much. Passed out and woke up to a guy on top of me. We didn't have sex, but he was definitely doing other stuff to me. I was in and out of consciousness and throwing up. I always chalked that one up to being my fault. School became awkward because I had classes with that guy. I stopped trying to fit in at school. Started dressing 'punk'. Said, **** the world! With my middle finger held high.

I continued to cut and was hospitalized for it on my moms birthday one year. I didn't want to die, I just needed a release.

At 14, I lost my virginity to an older drug addict. He used speed and prescription pills and was 18, or so. I thought it was cool at the time.

We went to my uncles wedding. Some guy got me drunk and tried to shove his tongue down my throat. Yeah, he was in his 30's. That was nice. I was pushing him away and he said that I owed him for buying me alcohol. I never asked for the alcohol though. My mom and Brian called my name and said we were leaving. I truly believe that I could have been raped that night. My mom and Brian didn't see anything as he'd dragged me out into the dark and they had both been drinking themselves.

I think I was around 15 when my mom and Brian split up. She threw a table at him and all of our canisters. They fought constantly. He would purposely make her angry and then stand there and laugh in her face. We lived in my grandmas basement and I would run upstairs to escape the screaming.

I started rebelling against my mom and acting out. I kept getting suspended from school for fighting and uttering death threats. I continued smoking weed and doing mushrooms. I started dating a guy named Michael. My mom went away on vacation and I got a Mohawk, despite her saying no. I also dyed my hair pink. My hair is still pink, haha. Ike was okay, but I was extremely jealous. I honestly don't remember much about Ike. I cheated on him with a guy named Cody. Cody was older than me by 5-6 years. I remember reconnecting with my dad though.

Ike and I broke up and I started dating a guy named Mark. I also started using acid, mdma and ketamine. **** was the most incredible artist id ever seen and we fell in love quickly. He lived quite a ways from me and I had to take the greyhound out to see him on weekends. Sometimes he'd come to my place and my mom let him spend the night at our house.

A year or so into our relationship and he cheated on me. He told me when we were high on acid and I busted up his nose. I was so angry. We stayed together, but things changed dramatically.

He came to my school once and started slashing his wrists and arms. He was hospitalized, but released shortly after.

He started to do things like chop pieces of his arm off with scissors and then tell me it was my fault. He had gashes all up and down his arms and legs. Again, it was my fault.

He got me pregnant. Too afraid to tell anyone, I just wore super baggy clothing and no one questioned anything. I graduated school and promptly moved in with **** and his family. **** had become slightly abusive and had started pinching me really hard. I had also lost contact with my dad again cause I wasn't able to get along with my stepmom. I referred to her as a stepmonster.

I went into labour and by midnight, it was too much for me handle. I woke **** up but he refused to listen and called me a liar. He made me walk 10 blocks to the bus station to take city transit to the hospital. I couldn't. I screamed and cried until he agreed to a taxi, though I made the entire walk to the bus stop.

Labour was complicated and I almost died. I had a boy, named Kai Alexander. I gave him up for adoption.

We started using drugs more heavily. **** K-holed on ketamine and tried killing himself by drinking turpentine. I wrestled it out of his hands and I spilled on the floor. I remember it burning the cuts on my legs.

I stayed with **** and he became very abusive. He choked me, stabbed me, held knives to my throat, kicked me, beat me over the head etc... He would keep me up for days by pouring cold water on me. He would lock me out of the house and force me to stay outside. He forced me to have sex with him. He was pure evil and I was 17-18, had no dad (or so I thought) and had just been through the most traumatizing thing of my life... The abuse increased in frequency and intensity. One day, his parents caught on and his mom phoned the police on him. Mark was arrested. His dad approached me and told me I had 2 hours to move out of their house.

I moved my belongings in with my friend and was welcome to stay there, but I felt sort of out of place. I was a mess. I started drinking the moment I woke up each day and using drugs. I started using cocaine, too.

I ended up moving in with a guy named Manuel. He was a drug dealer and the most socially inept person I've ever met. He bought me booze and I was able to steal his drugs without him ever knowing, or caring. I was using mdma multiple times a week, along with acid and ketamine. I also reconnected with **** who had moved to Edmonton. I also started dealing drugs to help subsidize my habit.

I hitch hiked to Edmonton to see him. Things were great. The next step was to move there. When I moved, I moved without Manuel ever knowing. I hated him. I wanted him to suffer. I left a note saying, "you're no longer worth the free drugs". When I moved, it instantly went south. I got angry with **** and stayed out all night. I met his guy and his friends. He took me out to some clubs and then a house party. We did ecstasy and Coke all night long. Trevor and I became great friends. **** broke up with me in a text message because he was afraid of my anger. That's when I started cutting again. I hadn't in a couple years. I sliced my legs until i couldn't walk. After bouncing around a bit in Edmonton, I rented a moving truck and Trevor drove me back home. I had drank and used morphine at work and subsequently lost my job.

When I came back, I moved in with my mom again. I was 19 by this time. I continued to use drugs, but cut down drastically. I went to college and graduated top of my class! My mom was married and happy, too. When I moved back, I started dating an old friend nicknamed, Polak. Again, we fell in love quickly. He was decent looking, but I mostly liked the fact that he was totally bad ***. A petty criminal and drug dealer. Things were great, but it was less than a year before I hated everything about him. I didn't want him near me or touching me. I hit him a couple times, too.

My friend and I tried to break into Manuels place and got chased to police dogs. We escaped though.

After Polak, I was single for a little while. I started cutting again, had a falling out with my best friend and started using Coke on a daily basis. I did an 8ball per night and was sinking into debt. I was using student loans to fuel my habit and was working and going to school.

I met a guy named J. He's 15 years older than me. I met him when I was 21. We've been together ever since. Again, we fell in love fast. Moved in together after 1 month of dating. He was a trucker, so not home all the time and going through a nasty divorce. We fell on hard financial times and started performing in amateur porn to make extra money. I also started webcamming.

Things were different with J. Sexually, I was very adventurous for a bit when normally I don't like sex and am very vanilla. I got tired of it though.

J's teen daughter lived with us, but he was on the road a lot, so she lived with me. Things did not go well. I became very resentful that she'd been dropped in my lap and that it meant her mother being in our lives.

I cut a couple of times here and there, but mostly I became destructive. I chopped up the coffee table with an axe and set it on fire. I broke things. I hit J. I screamed and swore and tossed out insults. J's daughter left because she didn't like my house rules.


I quit using drugs, but occasionally smoke weed. I got a university certificate and diploma. Reconnected with my dad... AGAIN. Went through a period where my dad was disregarding me to spend time with J'a daughter. That didn't go over well. I lost my mind.

J and I fight a lot now. I feel like the 'switch' has turned off. I'm not affectionate and some days, I straight up hate him. He doesn't understand, nor does he want to

A psychiatrist told me I have BPD traits and he didn't need to see me again. Not helpful.

These things plague and haunt me. This has been my life since childhood. I've felt alone and without a single person to protect me from the bad things. I suffered through it... Alone. These are just the things that stand out. More has happened, but I struggle to remember certain things... It's almost as though I have amnesia because I have these gaps in my memory and I don't remember the good times nearly as well as I can remember the bad times.

... It feels good to get it out though...





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[kaliope]

hi qy
i hope you feel better now that you have told your story. a psychiatrist may not be of use to you because they are mainly used for prescribing meds and there arent really meds that take care of personality traits. a therapist can be very useful though. learning coping skills for emotional regulation can be very helpful and keep that destructive side from acting out.

[PinkFlamingo99]

Some of this could be chemical though. Bipolar or unipolar depression can make things, even PDs worse, so it might be good to ask for a referral to a GOOD psychiatrist to get a proper diagnosis.

Also, I live in Canada too, but in another province, and we do have therapy groups and programs here for PDs. Depending on where you live, there might be something like that available there. If you are near Vancouver there should definitely be something. It sounds like you could definitely use some help dealing with this.

[Qy10]

Thank you for the responses.

I initially went to the psychiatrist in hopes of getting a proper diagnosis. I thought if I had a diagnosis, I'd be directed to the appropriate resources for help. I got told BPD traits, but seems too environmental. I was given a script for Prozac and sent away. Reading my story, nothing seems environmental. It seems like one giant pattern/cycle. I feel like with the questions he asked he made that call based on the fact that there was no abuse in my childhood... Everything started in my early teens.

I definitely get depressed. It's hard to get out of bed some days.

I also have anxiety. I don't like leaving my house and struggle sometimes when I'm in crowds. Usually, it doesn't affect me too much because I'm a bit of a homebody anyway. The only time if affects me is with my dogs. I train them in various competitive sports, but have been unable to compete so far because I just get too anxious.

I live about 45 minutes from Vancouver, but there are some closer fairly large cities that I can check out for support.

I feel almost shameful reaching out for support. Like I won't be taken see again.. Iunno.

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