Since realising that I needed to try to get some recovery from my borderline personality disorder I have been very careful. You see the minute I accepted the diagnosis I accepted the label and it became really easy to blame every little thing on my mental illness. Whatever I did and however I reacted I would tell myself that it was part of the BPD. In my head I had been given this get out of jail free card and to me at least, having BPD somehow excused everything I did.
When I was a little girl I was made to dance. I wasn’t allowed any lessons or given any instruction but I seemed to have a natural rhythm that dictated some type of talent and my step dad cashed in on that. With no money available for the real competition scene (coupled with the fact that I really was not good enough to compete against the top girls), instead I was peddled round the parks on our cheapo tent holidays winning less cheapo holidays in better parks and chalets.
The title is a silly one really but like everything I do (and have over thought a thousand times) it certainly has relevance in the moment it is meant. Let me try to explain and offer a brief introduction..
Hello. My name is Liza and I have a mental illness.
Actually, if you want to be picky about it I have several but I am learning not to sweat the details because if I did I would worry. Truth is, I spend a lot of time worrying because my mental illness affects EVERYTHING if I let it.
I wanted to write this blog because firstly I love writing but also because the stuff I found myself putting out into web space wasn’t really doing anything. I wanted to help, reach out and make sure that every last dot of a person knew that mental illness wasn’t something to be ashamed of or to hide from. I wanted to document my recovery, my thoughts, my feelings. I wanted to ride the waves of severity alongside the ripples of contentment and I wanted to share it. I wanted to shout loud. I wanted to be heard!
Which brings me back to the title..
Here is the secret! I have been waiting..
Waiting to feel ‘better’ so I didn’t appear in a flurry of angst or nonsensical muttering. Waiting so that on the surface, to anyone that happens to stumble upon this, I appear normal. It’s bizarre.. I want to write about my mental illness so was I so afraid?
The answer is simple and please bear in mind that this is only my answer. I am no guru or bringer of joy to all who wonder. I am just human and that is the point, the clarity I so questionably questioned.
I am a human with a mental illness who stigamatises herself all the time in order not to be provoked or pushed or upset or made to contemplate… you get the jist?
I aim to and will talk about all of the things I am touching on more at some point I am sure for I do want to do all of those things I mentioned earlier and this is the start of that. Everything has to have a beginning and sometimes you just have to step forward and no longer be afraid.
What I am trying to say is be kinder to yourself. Allow yourself to gain some definition of whatever it is you are suffering from. 2017 for me marks the year that I define my mental illness because believe me, it’s been defining me with its grip for far too long. There is enough Stigma in this world (again more on that another time) without loading it on your own back. Emotional hurt is not good.
So here is my puddle and I’m jumping in feet first. Yes, I am ‘more well’ right now than I have been in an age but that puddle is bloody deep and there is a long way to go yet. It’s okay though, I’ve got my wellies.