Each week, I learn more about how BPD affects me. Or maybe it’s just I’m learning more about who I intrinsically am. Either way, I’m kind of a weirdo. I have all kinds of strange idiosyncrasies and unique ways my brain works. I’m quite sure it’s the BPD in me that creates an extremely sensitive internal environment. My current theory is that poor sleep for three nights and not engaging in my daily morning routine of meditating, Bible reading and praying for three days caused me to have a mini breakdown last night.
I can remember struggling to finishing doing the dishes (which I usually thoroughly enjoy doing-as I said, I’m a weirdo), laying down on the bedroom carpet, and my brain and body feeling completely drained. I called my fiancé crying and told him I didn’t know what was wrong but I felt like I couldn’t get off the floor. Eventually, I mustered up the energy to crawl onto my bed and lay in an exhausted heap on my white duvet. I told him I was just going to go to bed, I would be fine. I just needed some sleep. But as I close my eyes to try to still my mind, the more the emotions came in stronger waves. The thought of him not being on the other line of the phone and me being completely alone with these waves of grief and doom coming at me from seemingly nowhere terrified me.
He was saying things like, “I’ll talk to you in the morning,” “You’ll feel better tomorrow,” A scary thought entered my mind that I was going to die tonight. I didn’t know where it came from or why, but it set root in my head. All I could think was, “I don’t know if I’m going to wake up tomorrow.” I thought this anxiety attack would be the end of me. I couldn’t be alone anymore in that moment. I needed to see my fiancé in case I didn’t make it through the night.
It took all my strength to pull my Bible off the shelf behind my bed. I could hardly hold my head up anymore. I fell into an almost catatonic state where my eyes fixed on a spot and nothing could seem to tear them from that spot. Just staring into empty space as my mind flooded with a strange mixture of nothing and everything all at once.
My fingers shakily opened to Psalm as tears dropped silently onto the crystal white pages. My eyes landed on a cluster of profoundly empathetic lines:
“Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me.
I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched.
My eyes fail, looking for my God.”
I often related the waves in the ocean to my experience of emotions. They come in waves, sometimes they’re rough and choppy, but die down as quickly as they come. And sometimes, they’re powerful and violent tidal waves that plunge my head underwater. All I can do is accept that I can’t fight against the storm’s strong force. I hold my breath underwater and wait for the storm to pass. I do what is necessary to lean into whichever way the waves seem to be thrashing me around. I cry, I press in, I beg, I scream, I hate, I grieve. Once the waves start to die down, I come back to where I’m at. Sitting on my bed, my loving fiancé intently looking at me, my cat licking himself inappropriately, Psalms open on my lap. I feel ashamed and afraid. Ashamed that I’m not stronger. Afraid that my fiancé will get scared away by my emotions and want to leave me for someone who doesn’t have BPD.
Regardless of the strength or persistency of the waves, I need to focus on the hand in mine that will never let go of me. The water may come up to the top of my brown hair, and I may feel like I’m going to drown in seconds, but someone is always holding onto me. He will rescue me every time. On the next page of Psalm, David writes:
“Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens, you who have done great things.
Who is like you, God? Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter,
you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up.
You will increase my honor and comfort me once more.”
BPD sucks sometimes. And my emotions take me for some wild rides. But instead of giving up or getting frustrated because I don’t understand why my life experience is like this, I want to try to trust in God. Trust that he works all things together for my good. I may not see it or feel it, but that’s what it means to trust.
I prayed this morning that God would use my suffering to benefit others. One of my biggest fears is that I leave this earth without making a positive impact. I can die with no money to my name, no children, no place to live, but if I know I showed others Jesus with the way I live, I can feel like I fulfilled my destiny. BPD causes me to care and feel deeply. I don’t want to waste my life feeling sorry for myself and struggling just to maintain my own emotional stability. I want to help others, as much as I want to help myself. I believe that the best way to feel better about your own problems is to help others with their problems. My fiance and I just joined a church and are going to a Bible study with people in their twenties. I pray that I will connect with some of the people there and hopefully we can share our struggles, encourage each other and serve God together. More updates to come soon. ❤ B
Moe My Hero 