Sadness Is A Silent Killer.

I’m feeling pretty sad tonight. My previous post-writing set me off, and now everything is making me want to cry. I’m feeling very muted at the moment. In some ways it’s good, as the last couple of weeks have been intense. But in a way I feel I’ve resigned now. I now know my place… I know where I stand with people. I know my importance, or lack thereof. I know who people want me to be…


I tried standing up for myself, defending my rights, trying to stick up for the broken little girl in me. I tried to speak out about my feelings. I tried everything I had within me, to be strong and be heard. But I give up now.


From this point on I’m going to be the girl I used to be. The girl people want me to be. The one who gives but does not get. The one who loves but is not loved. The one who smiles and does not complain. The one who does not speak out, but hurts herself in private. The one who gives care where none is given. The one who speaks only when spoken to. I’m keeping to myself from now on. I’m putting up with my lot. I’ve fought bloody hard to not be beaten down to this point, but I can only withstand so much. It’s not worth the hassle anymore. I feel flat… deflated. And more than this I feel sad. Sad that no matter how hard I try to move forward, people don’t welcome progress in me. They want me to remain that girl they once knew, or the one they thought I was before they got to know me… they want me to be the quiet little loser, who keeps to herself. That’s what they’ll get. Good luck getting me to open up again though.


I feel sad because of the ‘transference’ issue, which I’m not sure was actually transference now. I think it was just meeting a soul that I liked. And I miss seeing him. I get times it’s not so bad and I barely think of him, and then I’ll suddenly get ambushed by feelings and it feels like my heart is being wrenched out through my throat. The trouble I have with it, is that when everything else feels a mess, like it is right now, I just want to see him, to hear him, to talk to him… to be back in that room once again. I’m thinking it right now, and I’m crying as I type this. I want to go back to then. I just closed my eyes and saw his face, heard his reassuring voice and felt like I was back in that room, and sometimes that’s my only comfort… a memory. You know when everything is really bad, and there’s someone you want to turn to for comfort, support or just to make it feel better…. that’s him. I’m aware it makes no sense. But it’s how I feel. And right now I’m really sad that I’ll never see him again. It just makes everything else feel so much worse.


I know I was told it was to do with my granddad. I don’t accept this anymore. Sure, the loss aspect possibly. But I think I just wanted to get out of an embarrassing situation, and linking it to that made me feel less ashamed of how I felt. I do admit it was a loss I couldn’t face… it was too traumatic, too soon after losing my granddad. So in that way it’s linked. But my feelings towards him were separate. But that’s just another thing I’ll stuff down. I can’t do what people want me to do… they want me to just ‘get over’ things… move on…. let go. If only they understood how impossible that is for me.


As for my granddad, I’m not dealing with it. I have times I cry about it… usually alone. The rest of the time I emotionally distance myself from it. I look at his photo all the time, but I don’t let the physical sensations in. I push them away as soon as I feel them rising. I don’t let myself dwell on the reality that he’s no longer here, and what that means for me and everyone else. I don’t want to delve into that tonight… I feel sick enough as it is. Let’s just say that I am flooded by sadness at how he went, the goodbye, and the hole left in our lives without him. I wish he didn’t have to go. I never imagined living without my grandparents.  I knew it would happen one day…. but that day was always somewhere in the future… it crept up on us… and now it’s been over a year without him.


I’m sad that now I’m just considered a part of the club… that ‘we all go through it’…. support may have existed initially, but now it’s gone. And that’s hard for anyone who’s grieving. But I’m just sad that nobody has the compassion to remember this was my first experience of grief. I’m sorry I was late to the club. I wasn’t expecting special treatment, like I have the monopoly on grief… I know others go through it. My sadness came from the fact it was my first loss… my first anniversary date. His first one. My first one. The sadness comes from that, and the ‘snub’ to his importance. All along since he passed, there’s been the underlying thought for me, that he deserved better. But I have to hold on to the love and pride I have in my heart for him…


He may not have mattered that much to anyone else. He might have been a quiet man, and he might not have been remembered how I wish he had… but what matters is how I remember him… how I love him… what he means to me. That’s what counts. It makes my everlasting bond with him all that more special… that long after others have forgotten about him, I remember him. I miss him. I love him. And he’ll always hold a special place in my heart, until the day I die. He was the only granddad I remember, as my other died when I was little more than a baby. So this was a major loss for me. I don’t think anyone realises that. But I don’t feel angry about it anymore. I feel sad at the lack of compassion and caring. I feel sad that this is what life is – death. And worse than that, ‘life goes on’. That’s tragic for someone whose heart is in pieces… for someone whose life has ground to a halt. They get forgotten and left behind.


I’m just feeling so much sadness right now, for so many reasons. Sadness scares me. Anger is passion…. anger is a fight to keep going and make changes… anger is at least something… it’s a driving force. Sadness is despondence …. giving up… depression…. a silent killer. It’s a passive emotion, but so debilitating and crushing on the inside… and nobody would ever know you’re dying. But it’s how I shall live my life from now on…. in silence… serene on the surface…. broken inside. And they’ll never know. They’ll never ask. And if they do, I’ll never tell. It’s who they want me to be… they liked her… or at least could pretend to…..  the old me, who didn’t say very much. They wished I’d keep quiet and suffer in silence. Wish granted.


Anyway, I’m getting tired now… thankfully. At least I might be able to sleep away some of this sadness soon. One of the perks of night-time meds… make you sleepy. Otherwise I’d be up all night thinking.




















The ‘Self’.


The 'Self'


I’m unsure about the purpose of this post, but I’ll see where it goes. I wanted to explore my thinking on ‘perspective of life’. The fact that we experience life through our own eyes, with our own emotions and our own priorities. I wonder if it’s the same for everyone, or if I should feel guilty for being selfish… that’s what this piece is about, trying to work that out.


I am the centre of my universe. In saying that, I assume some would say I’m selfish, self-centred or a narcissist. I don’t mean that I think a lot of myself. I mean I see through my eyes, feel my feelings and my life is shaped by my memories. I do what I want to do, and sometimes feel I neglect others in fulfilling their wants. I guess I just assume they’ll take care of their side of things, like I do mine. I feel if I want to spend time on my own I tend to do it. But I have moments where I wonder what my loved ones’ inner experiences are… do they wish I wouldn’t spend time on my own? Do they wish I’d spend time with them? Are they lonely? Are they happy? Are their needs being met? And even at this point, writing this, it’s set me off crying.


Because I just want them to be happy. I think about my inner experience… it’s MY story. I know my story… I know I get lonely. I know I feel sad and rejected. I know I feel depressed and like I don’t matter to people. I experience other people as playing a part in my life. I don’t tend to think of myself externally. I don’t think of me playing a part in someone else’s life. I mean I have done that – that’s what tends to stop me from taking my own life, because I think about the pain it would cause my loved ones.


It’s not that I’m incapable of putting myself in the shoes of someone else. But I can’t put myself behind the eyes of someone else – I can’t see the world through their lens. I can’t feel the pain in their heart, because I haven’t got their memories. So I don’t know what their hearts desire. I don’t know if they’re happy doing their own thing, or if I should be doing more to make their lives better. And I feel so painfully guilty about this. I want them to feel happy and loved. I want to be to them, what they are to me. I don’t feel I am.


I feel so selfish at the moment. But then I start to think I’ve always been selfish. I don’t mean to be… I just see life through my lens. And I am the centre of my universe. I always figured we are all the centre of our own universe… because the things we experience happen to us. If I look at something that happens to my friend, it hasn’t happened to me. It may have some small impact – a ripple effect on my own existence, but it hasn’t happened to me – it’s in her universe, so would have a massive impact on her, as she is the centre of her universe. And if something happens to me, it may cause ripples in other people’s lives, but I take the impact, as I’m the centre of my universe. I’m the one who feels the painful emotions. I’m the one scarred by memories. I’m the one who has emotional needs – unmet needs… and my aim is to get them met. I’m not someone who is detached from the feelings of others, or uses people to meet my own needs. That’s what I mean – I feel extreme pain when I think about the role I play in the lives of those I love. I don’t use them, but they are like the planets in my solar system…. just as I must be a planet in theirs. I’m aware it might sound like I think the world revolves around me, if I view myself as the sun. But I’m talking about perspective here, not importance. I am the constant in my life. Anyone in my life could come and go – they move, like they’re revolving around the sun…. so in a sense I am a planet and the sun at the same time. In my own experience I am the sun. But to anyone else, they are the sun and I am a planet.


I don’t want to be the centre of attention… but I am central to my existence, if that makes sense. I find it hard to imagine what people see of me, externally – how I look, how I sound, how I act… my moods… my actions and how they might affect someone else. I’m not talking ’empathy’ here… because I have bucket-loads of the stuff. Too much. It’s more a sense of consciousness I think…. I’m on the inside, looking out. I can’t imagine being on the outside looking in. And that means I struggle to see other people as doing the same – being inside looking out… I see them from the outside. But they are no different to me. They are people too, with painful human emotions. They are trapped inside themselves, looking out, at people who are also doing the same. And what if I’m not looking in at them enough? What if I’m neglecting their needs? What if my being trapped inside my own experience means I’m not a good daughter / granddaughter / sister / friend? What if I’m hurting people by being unable to see through their eyes and feel through their hearts? This hurts me so much.


I love my family. They’re always there. They’ve done so much for me, I could never repay them. I sometimes stop and think of how their existence is. They have memories I don’t have. They have pain and sadness. They have regrets. They have fears. I sometimes don’t spend time with them, because I put my own needs first… I like to spend time on my own… or my depression does at least… I think about what my body needs and what my soul needs. I know they have the responsibility of doing that for themselves. But what if they don’t match… what if my needs don’t match theirs? What if they need more from me than I’m giving? What if the things they want most in life, they can’t have, because of me? It breaks my heart…


It can be as simple as thinking about what I’ve done in a day, and wondering what a loved one did in their day – did they do the things they wanted to do? The things their soul craved? Did they do things they felt they had to do, and didn’t make time for the things they wanted to do? Should I have been there to make them feel less alone? Should I have done more that I ‘had to do’ and didn’t want to, rather than just doing what my soul wanted? Are my loved ones happy with their place in life? Are they content day to day? Are they sad and lonely? Is it my fault?


If you think about when someone puts you down or upsets you, you feel it in your chest, but it’s essentially a knock to your ego. ‘Ego’ is often used in a negative way, as if you’re self-absorbed and think you’re something wonderful, and you’re getting knocked down a peg or two… but to me when I’m thinking of the ego in this sense, I mean a person’s sense of self. I really mean their ‘spirit’. But when this happens we do tend to see things as all about us… we question ourselves and our place in the world. We feel attacked by people. We look after ourselves. It’s all about us. Surely that’s something we all experience, is it not?


Do other people view themselves as the centre of their universe? It doesn’t mean they don’t care entirely about someone besides themselves. I don’t mean that. I’m talking about perspective. I’m talking about other people’s ‘stories’ told in the first-person. Am I a character in their story? Are they central to it all? Or am I just being too self-centred?


I care a lot about people. The people I love… I can’t begin to express how much I love them. I just burst into tears whenever I think about it. If I care about someone it’s the strongest emotion I’ve ever felt. I would die for them. I would live for them. I would do anything. So this isn’t about me not caring about others… or caring about myself more than others. Because honestly I don’t. When my granddad passed away, I didn’t care about how I would feel. I cared about how my mum and my nan would feel. I thought of their grief. I wanted them to be alright. I didn’t care about me. I still don’t care about me.


I detest myself at the moment. So it’s not self-love. I guess it might be ‘having my own back’, as nobody else does (other than family of course). But am I wrong to focus on how outside circumstances influence my inner world? Is it wrong to be the centre of my existence? I feel immense love for those in my life… is that enough? Should I make them the centre of my existence? And if so, how do I do that? How do I take myself out from behind my eyes, and my emotions, to see myself externally – to see me as a tiny speck in the universe… as irrelevant as I am? How do I see myself as others see me, not as my inner world sees me? How do I see other people as more than a part of my story? How do I see them as their own story…. without feeling intense guilt, pain and sorrow? How do I do it? Because I don’t want to be self-centred. I want to be a giving, loving person, who improves the lives of those I love. But thinking about my loved ones and their own inner experiences, rips me apart…. which leads me to focus on my own feelings again…. is it normal to be so focused on yourself? Trapped in your own body, viewing the world from inside? Does it make me a bad person? Or are we all doing the same?


Do people look at me, and feel as frustrated that they can’t feel how I feel? Do they ever question if I’m happy, and if it’s their fault I’m not? Do they feel they’re not giving me enough either? Do they feel like they’re self-centred… only thinking about how they feel, how they see things, how things affect them? Is it perfectly normal human behaviour? I really can put myself in the shoes of someone else. I can see why they’d feel a certain way. I have no problem with that. It’s imagining their experience of life and the part I play in that, that’s what causes me pain.


In my universe, as much as I hate myself, I have a part of me that still believes that I matter. It hasn’t quite died yet. It’s the part of me that says ‘Hey, that’s not on – what you did to me was lousy… I deserve better…. how dare you treat me like that!?’ It’s like the adult part of me protecting the child in me. And I guess that we all have that. That we all defend our inner child, and try to give them what they need to live in this world. I’m just so scared that I’m hurting or neglecting the inner child of other people in trying to look after my own. I’m worried life isn’t enough for them… because of me. I think of the role others play in my life, and the pain and sadness from that. I must be that character to other people. And I hate that. I don’t ever want to cause them pain or make them sad… either through things I do or I don’t do. If my ‘ego’ / ‘spirit’ is damaged by external factors – namely other people… either I’m egocentric, or we all feel this way, and I must damage theirs too. Either option is difficult to accept…. especially when you love people as much as I love my family.


The idea that I am me, and those in my life are planets in my solar system, and vice versa, it makes me really sad, as it makes me realise how utterly alone we all must be in life. I know that should comfort me, knowing I’m not alone in being alone, but the thought of my loved ones feeling as alone as I feel, I can’t bear it. I wish I could take that feeling away from them.


Sorry, this has become a bit of a heavy topic, and I’ve succeeded in upsetting and depressing myself more than usual. Feeling a bit reflective at the moment. I’d love to hear any thoughts you have about this concept of self and perspective of life – in you or in other people. Thanks for reading.



The Unwritten.




“Hi, I hope you’re okay. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to get in touch. I wasn’t sure what to say. The longer I left it the harder it got. There’s been a lot going on at this end, and I’m finding it hard to juggle everything. I should have said something earlier, to let you know what was happening, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you feel you were alone.

I know you’ve been having a really tough time, and I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you. I know anniversary dates can be difficult, especially as this was your first experience of it… the first one. And I’m sorry nobody was there for you, that must have been hard. But I do care about you, and of course you were in my thoughts. I hadn’t forgotten, I’m just rubbish at communicating at the moment. I know he meant a lot to you, and he’s still with you.

I haven’t been avoiding you… I know it seems that way, but I promise I haven’t. There’s just been so much to think about, that it all got too much for me, and I had to have some time on my own, to be able to cope with it all. I didn’t mean to make you feel so alone though. I promise I’m not abandoning you, I just have to get my head around everything that’s going on in my life.

I’m still here, and I still care about you very much. And I miss you. The kids do too, they keep asking about you. You’re a special friend to me, and I’d hate to lose you from my life. I wish I could take away all the pain you’re feeling right now, or at least help you carry it. I want to see you be happy. I hate to see you so upset. I’m worried about you… please don’t do anything to yourself, I need you… the kids need you. It would break my heart to lose you.

Even when I can’t be there for you I want you to know you’re in my thoughts, and don’t ever doubt my care for you. It’s unconditional. You’re my best friend, and I’m so thankful to know you. Things will get better I promise. Please look after yourself.





This is what I would’ve written to me if I was my friend. This is the message I needed to hear at this time. It acknowledges and validates my pain, it explains the absence, but doesn’t guilt-trip me for being upset. It shows care and concern for me. It leaves a good feeling. It’s reassuring and compassionate.


Sadly this is not the message I received. It was quite different to the above. I shall take more time to reflect on it, but so far it’s left me with a sense that I am a burden, I’m selfish – only thinking about myself, and not my friend. Lack of apologies. No mention of caring about me. No compassion for my first anniversary date, just telling me they don’t get any easier – doesn’t inspire me to continue… and making it sound like ‘we all go through it’ – which is what I figured my friends thought anyway. Sorry for being a ‘newbie’ to the club….  Cold. Bitter. Withholding of care. These are the immediate senses I get from what I’ve read.


I feel like I’m a bad person for not being there for her, but she could have told me much sooner, what was going on, and that I hadn’t lost her. It’s far too late, and the message hasn’t actually reassured me, because there’s no heart in it. I feel she’s angry with me, and I’m meant to feel guilty and ashamed, and selfish… which I slightly do right now. But I am also angry as a result… as I am done being made to feel guilty for being abandoned and hurt by people. I’ve had way too much of it in my life. It’s time people owned their behaviour and stopped trying to spin it round on me. I deserved an apology or care, one or the other at least, and I feel I received neither. Those closest to me are going to have to start trying to understand my illness. Our friendships won’t work otherwise. They have to acknowledge and accept my triggers and avoid them. And they have to start thinking about ‘tone’, and showing more care, concern and compassion. I will be writing a blog about this soon.


I understand she’s been busy, and she’s had to focus on other people – I totally get that, in fact I’ve written about it before … that I don’t expect to be the priority … that family is much more important, as it should be. I’m not saying she should’ve taken her focus off of them and focused on me. What I’m saying, and what I’m upset about, is that she could SEE I was in pain and heading to a very dangerous and lonely place. I was crying out for help! She could SEE it, and she couldn’t take sixty seconds out of her day to send me one caring message, to say she was thinking of me. I wasn’t worthy of sixty seconds. THAT’S why I’m upset. I’m sure I’ll get over it. This is just a tough time, for everyone. But I am allowed to be hurt by that, and to take my time to recover from the whole ordeal of the past couple of months.


One good thing I suppose, is when I began reading the message, I thought ‘Uh-oh, this has that tone to it, where it’s going to upset me and trigger me…’ I actually got supplies ready to harm myself. But then I picked up a stress ball and tried breathing slowly whilst I read the message. While the message did upset me, I haven’t yet harmed myself because of it. I know there’s still time, but at least I was able to put it off initially.


One thing I’ve done is closed my account, and removed everyone from my old one. I’ve turned my phone off. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I will ‘talk to’ my blog, and people on Twitter, as they’re the only things that have got me through the last couple of months. People might not like what I say on this blog, but they have no clue what it’s like to have my voice silenced, and to be made to put up with being mistreated. None of them know the level of despair and emotional pain I’m carrying. They’re not capable of knowing. Unless you have BPD you cannot even imagine the intensity of the feelings. I will keep talking here, as I’ve been advised to by people who understand the dangers of me not talking. Those who can see how close to the edge I am, and who understand mental illness, particularly the one I have, say it’s important to just keep talking. I know I saw it as a mistake to talk about these things here. But only I know where I’m at right now. Only I know the consequences of shutting down entirely. I know how close I am to jumping in front of a train, or off a bridge, or doing something else. I can’t let those thoughts win. I can’t let these people win. I have to keep fighting, for my family. They’ve always been there, and I know they always will. That has to be enough for me for now.





Having slept on it… I’m less upset. I’m able to look at potential reasons behind the message I did receive. Of course it would have been nice to get one like the one I wrote at the start – that’s what I needed. But some people have the knack, others don’t. I have to accept people as they are. In time I will respond, and it will actually be with compassion and concern, just as I needed. But at this point in time I have to protect myself, and that means keeping away from everyone. I’m sorry. It’s better that I distance myself, work out how I feel, think of a response and take my time to write it… otherwise I might say something I can’t take back. I actually feel quite proud of how I’ve coped with this so far. I’m doing what’s right for me. I avoided harming myself yesterday. And I’ll let the answer come to me in its time.


In the meantime I’m going to be writing posts about what we as people with BPD need from others. In therapy I’ve often been told to treat myself how I would treat a friend, or how a friend would treat me. The letter I wrote at the start is how I wish my friend had treated me… and it’s what I would say to her if she was going through what I’m going through. It’s what friends are meant to be there for… so knowing what I’d have said to her, means I’m closer to knowing how to speak to myself… it’s progress… it’s knowing how I deserve to be treated and spoken to. It’s been a way of telling myself what I need to hear. I’m thinking of doing a collection of letters like this to myself, from all the people who hurt me in my past… the things I wish they’d said, which they never did. It might build my self-worth up a little, and who knows, it might even fool my mind into thinking they were sorry for what they did!! If nothing else it’ll get all the pain out of me.

The next post will be based on this experience, putting it to good use and hopefully it’ll be helpful to others, whilst expressing my needs. Best get working on it!





Dear Grampa…

Dear Grampa,

I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me. I wish I could see your face, and hold your hand, and hear your voice. Life hurts without you here. It’s a pain unspoken. Life has carried on, people have forgotten. They’ve forgotten I’m hurting, and that for me there’s a hole in the world. They may not think you were that important to me, but you were. You were such a lovely, special man, and the world is a worse place for the loss of you.

I’m not coping without you. I’m sorry. I wanted to make you proud of me. I said I’d be okay. I said I’d look after everyone, but I can’t. I can’t even look after myself anymore. My life has fallen apart. I’m sure you know. I’m sure you’ve seen it all. I’m sorry you have to see me so upset so often. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted you to know I was alright. But you know I’m not. I’m so close to just wanting to come and be with you Grampa. I can’t take living anymore. And it seems like my friends wouldn’t even notice I’d gone. I miss you, and I want to see you again. I don’t want this life. I can’t stand the pain. I’m in so much pain.

I don’t know what to do. Please, come and see me in my dreams… tell me how to cope with this life. I have to keep living, for everyone else, but it’s not fair, because the world’s too cruel and harsh for someone like me. It’s not fair to ask me to keep living in it, when all life is, is pain and loneliness.

I’m never going to have anyone. I’m never going to be happy. What is the point of life? I’m so sorry you never saw me happy. I’m sorry I never got married in your lifetime. Seems it’ll never happen in my lifetime either. I don’t feel my lifetime will be particularly long.

I’m so sorry, that I’m giving Mum more to worry about. She’s upset enough at having lost you. And she’s having to watch me talk about wanting to die. She’s got so many of us to worry about. I’m so selfish to be like this when she’s suffering enough. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t cope with anything anymore. Everything hurts. I feel I have no friends anymore. They left me, when I needed them. I needed them to get through the anniversary of your loss. They weren’t there. They haven’t been there since. I can’t cope anymore. I just want to turn to Matt… you’ll have seen how I feel about that. And the pain of that loss is still raw, just as the loss of you is. I can’t deal with any of this, because I don’t have support. I’m so alone. And it makes me want to not be here anymore. It’s too painful, and nobody even cares.

I’m so sorry our family is splintered. You wouldn’t have wanted your death to have that effect on the family. Family was so important to you, and you’d have wanted us all to pull together. It’s what I thought would happen. So far, every notion I had about grief has been debunked…. extended family haven’t been there… friends soon forget and aren’t there for you… I thought in time things would feel better. They don’t. I don’t feel they ever will.

I’m being punished for my mental illness. I’m being punished for my grief. I’m being punished for my emotions. That is the world telling me I’m worthless and a doormat. I try and hold on to the love you had for me. I try to remember that I mattered to you. But you’re gone. I may never have heard it, because I never said it, but I know in my heart you loved me Grampa… it showed in your worry for me, in your smile, in the little gestures. The book you gave me of positive quotes, that will be with me forever. I just wish you were with me forever. I need you here. I can’t breathe without you. Nothing has been right since you left. Life is no longer certain. It’s not safe. It’s two years since my world changed, and you got ill. It still hurts… the memory of what we went through when you were in hospital… something you’d never remember. It was traumatic. And I feel scarred by that last night I saw you and said goodbye. I’m so fortunate to have had the chance to say goodbye. I just wish I could have said the things I said, while you were still conscious, and could talk to me. I’m so sorry how you spent the last years of your life. That hurts me. You deserved better than that.

I’m sorry… you gave me such good qualities, and I’m not showing them anymore. I’ve lost myself. The pain is too much to cope with alone. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve let you down. I’m sorry. I wanted to live for you, and live in such a way it would keep your spirit alive. I’ve failed you. I’m sorry. I’m just not strong enough.

I need you Grampa. If I can’t come and be with you, I need to see you, please. Please send me a sign. I need to know you’re with me. Nobody else is.


To Speak Or Not To Speak?

Saying something = offending / upsetting other people = abandonment = isolation.
Staying quiet = suffering = self-harm = worsening mental health = avoidance = isolation.


Saying something = being a bitch = people hate you.
Staying quiet = being a doormat = people like you.


Saying something = insight / knowledge / eloquence = doubts of honesty / severity = well enough.
Staying quiet = doesn’t know about illness = given insufficient help = failure = ‘too ill’.


Saying something = having a backbone = being ‘strong’ = not needing anyone = feeling misunderstood = being avoided by people.
Staying quiet = feelings are trampled on = being ‘weak’ = being needy = being too much for people = being avoided by people.


Saying something = ‘brave’ = inspirational = mental health warrior = until you say something that offends another mental health warrior, then = scum / reject.
Staying quiet = shame = stigma = secret struggles = pressure = suicide = statistic.


Saying something = warning others of my triggers = telling them how to hurt me = deliberate re-triggering = self-harm / suicidal thoughts = closing up = low self-worth.
Staying quiet = people always crossing boundaries = easily triggered = self-harm / suicidal thoughts = resentment / relationship woes = fallouts = low self-worth.


Saying something = hurting other people = self-hatred = ‘I should die’
Staying quiet = hurting myself = self-hatred = ‘I should die’.




You see? There is no way to win. Whatever I do I’m screwed. I know I’m not the only one to experience these feelings of ‘Should I say something or just keep my feelings to myself?’ We take so long deciding on the best option, but whatever we go with we end up suffering.


I’m well aware that most people would rather I hid my feelings, hurt myself and stayed quiet, instead of saying things they don’t like. I wish they knew the agonising I did about whether to say anything or not.


What I got from someone the other day though, is that it’s better to be honest and say what’s upsetting me, so that I feel heard by the people who DO care, rather than to suffer in silence. The only trouble with this is believing that anybody actually does care, and also that people upset by my voice are very vocal about it most of the time, and this does result in me punishing myself for daring to stand up for myself, or look out for my own needs. In my bid to not self-harm, but to express myself, I often end up being made to feel guilty, like an awful person, and as a result I self-harm anyway. I cannot win.


I wish people would understand that I’m stuck. I suffer, whether it is alone, in silence, or whether I ‘reach out’ to others. I always suffer. And my God I’m the one who ends up hurting, I promise you that. You may think I’m trying to hurt you, but in reality I’m trying to resist hurting myself. But if push comes to shove I would sooner hurt myself than cause someone else pain. I just wish others would feel the same way about me. They don’t. Too many in my life have caused me pain and not even flinched.


But with me, if I even sense I’ve upset someone, out comes the blade. I don’t choose to upset other people. I just get tired of them hurting me, and me not being able to stop it… not being able to stand up for myself or express my hurt, because it will offend other people… which results in me hurting myself as penance. So I’m hurt by others, and hurt by myself for speaking out about that hurt.


Nobody has ever accepted the truth well. They always turn it round to make me the bad person. They never whole-heartedly accept that they caused me pain or weren’t there for me. It’s always got to be at least a little my fault.


I know they’d all prefer me to shut up … it would make their own existence easier. And that’s why my self-worth is at an all-time low. Because I am just an obstacle to the lives of others. I’m too easily hurt and triggered, and that means people have to apologise, and feel bad – how dare I make them feel that way, right? How dare I ask that they put effort in to make me feel they care about me, yes? That gets in the way of them living their lives. Why don’t I just go away and die in a corner somewhere? That’s how I always feel.


Me – ‘I-I-I’m v-v-very sorry to disturb your h-happiness, b-b-but can you p-p-please stop doing w-what you’re d-d-doing to hurt m-m-me…?’
Them – ‘Oh just piss off with your negativity, stop criticising me, you’re making me feel shit about myself – you’ve really upset me now… not talking to you anymore, loser’.


So I have to quietly put up with being hurt, being forgotten, being alone, so that I don’t interrupt the lives of others. Now can you see why I feel so worthless and a burden most of the time? I watch everyone getting on with their lives, being lucky enough to know happiness… in the meantime I’m hurting and alone … but saying so upsets them, so I have to just silently drown, alone.


Whatever I do I will end up isolated, either being a bitch or a doormat, I’ll never be the right amount of ‘ill’ to get help, I’ll be avoided by everyone, I’ll either be rejected or I’ll be dead, my self-worth will be on the floor and I’ll think I should die. Whichever way I look at it, whatever choice I make, people are the complication in life that will always decide my fate. And I will never be cared for as much as people care for their own egos. This will always make me inferior. It will always mean I must suffer in silence until my death… for their sakes. What is the point of my existence? It’s hopeless.




It Hurts…




That you would see me crying, and feel no pain at my suffering.

That you would hear me say how alone I feel, and feel no responsibility as my friend to make sure I know I’m never alone.

That you would interpret my words as an attack on you as a person, rather than as an expression of inner turmoil and mental illness.

That you know what I’ve been through with other people, and put me through the same.

That you weren’t there for me on the one year mark… as I was reminded of the loss of my granddad, I faced the loss of my friends too.

That you continue to be distant, knowing I’m in pain… knowing I’m lonely… knowing I want to die.

That you have no fear of losing me.

That you expect me to do things I’m not capable of right now, like reaching out to you.

That you don’t understand my illness.

That you aren’t willing to make allowances for me.

That you aren’t prepared to make the effort.




That you stood by and watched me drown.

That you couldn’t even show you cared about me.

That you left me for weeks, thinking I was a terrible person, that nobody cared, that I’d lost everything, at a time I was already incredibly vulnerable because of the one year mark, and having nobody there for me.

That I’ve slowly been losing my importance in your life, just as I feared would happen five years ago.

That you agree with me, that I’m not worthy of happiness, friendship and love.

That you have given up on me, just as I’ve given up on myself.

That you see no hope for me.

That you can’t handle my depression anymore. You can’t. What about me?

That you’ve forgotten I exist.

That you would sooner lose me as a friend, than do what’s needed to save our friendship.

That you always abandon me at the worst times.




That I have to hold all this inside and say nothing about it, because it will upset you… so I hide it for so long that all it does is hurt me over and over again… until I get to the point I can’t take it anymore.

That you would rather I hurt myself than be honest about why I’m hurting myself.

That I matter so little to you.

That you don’t think I’m a friend to be proud of. I agree though.

That you could see me spiralling down, and did nothing to catch me.

That you didn’t communicate with me if there was some reason you couldn’t be there for me… therefore letting me fill in the blanks.

That you knew what this was doing to me, and didn’t care.

That you obviously wanted to communicate something negative to me by withholding care and support.

That you’re probably now offended, but don’t give a fig about the offence I feel at being ditched by everyone at the worst point in my life.

That you’ll blame me for all this, when it could have been fixed with a bit of effort.




That I wasn’t even initially upset with you – it was everyone else, but then you acted like the rest of them, so now it’s you too.

That I expected more from you. They were just acquaintances neglecting me. You were my best friend.

That you didn’t want to learn about my mental illness, to better understand me and to help our friendship.

That you are abandoning me because of my mental illness and grief.

That you know I’m scared of losing you, but you didn’t put my mind at ease, if there was a good reason for not being there… you let me fall apart instead. You let me believe you didn’t care.

That you would rather I killed myself or ended up in hospital, instead of feeling like I’m ‘controlling you’ – even though that’s not what I’m doing. Even though expecting you to make the next move is not manipulating you, it’s saying that I can’t open up to you because I believe you don’t care anymore. Even though I have crippling depression and don’t trust anyone.

That you know I’m paranoid at the moment, and your silence and neglect has allowed all these thoughts to fester, but you will be offended that I think them, even though you could’ve nipped it in the bud and told me you cared about me and that I’m not alone.

That you’re a closed book, so I can’t know if there’s a reason you’re neglecting me, but I’ve made my pain and despair so obvious you couldn’t miss it… and still, nothing.

That you can’t understand what assumptions I would make from that.

That when things got tough, you walked away… just like the rest of them.




That even you couldn’t see my worth in the end.

That you found it so easy to walk away, seeing me in desperate pain.

That you didn’t ask if I was okay, even though the answer was obviously no.

That you communicate through silence, and you clearly don’t care what happens to me as a result, as you can see for yourself what it does to me.

That I don’t know if you’d even come to my funeral at this point… if I did make that choice. Would you even care then?

That I feel like I’m dead to you and you wouldn’t miss me if I actually was.

That you were like a sister to me. You were my best friend. And I never pictured life without you.

That you said I’d never lose you, and yet here we are…




‘Trauma’ & ‘Triggers’…

A trigger is the connection between the conscious mind and a buried painful memory.

*Bad language, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and a personal rant but with real cause for concern*


Part of me feels I shouldn’t be writing this, because me having a voice pisses everyone off. I break their belief that they’re perfect, and that I’m a worthless piece of shit. I know nobody wants me standing up for myself, they never have, but it’s about time people take responsibility for their shitty behaviour. So here goes…


Yesterday I posted an opinion on Twitter, about this £10,000 pay out to 25 year olds, and how it won’t heal a generational rift, it will cause one… that old people worked hard all their lives, paying into the system… they weren’t handed everything on a plate… people strived and struggled to have the things they own. My humble opinion is that people should work hard… it makes them stronger. Getting the old to bail out the young isn’t right. That’s all I know. I know people disagree, and that’s fine. I accept that. I hope my views will be accepted too, as mine. Anyway, someone called Tara then pounced on it, arguing it. I admit my reaction may have seemed like an ‘overreaction’, but given that just a day earlier I had the same problem with a friend, and both instances tapped into some traumatic shit from my past, going all the way back to childhood, the feeling of being ‘publicly humiliated‘ is a big fucking trigger for me.



biatch 2 (3)


After she argued my views, I asked her to stop, said it was just my opinion, and my mental health couldn’t take it atm. I told her I’d removed the tweet she disagreed with. I muted her. But I saw she’d said it was just starting a discussion (I wasn’t inviting that to happen), wasn’t a personal attack on me, and she was sorry I felt it was…. a false apology.



biatch 3 (3)


I wrote out an explanation for why I seemed to overreact earlier. And I wanted to tell people about the trigger, and that I sometimes need to release my feelings about things, but don’t want to debate – my nerves won’t take it.


She then retweeted it on her timeline, and said it was aimed at her (which nobody would’ve known, as I didn’t mention her name before & deleted evidence), it was uncalled for, saying she’s not responsible for how I respond to a ‘reasonable tweet’. And see below for my reply. I then blocked her. It’s not up to her to decide was is ‘called for’ or ‘uncalled for’ on my own Twitter feed. Given that it was not solely about HER, I think it was extremely called for – to warn people of where I’m at, and how delicate I feel at the moment. Surely a therapist / counsellor would agree that communicating my needs is a positive step, no? Does she believe that I should suffer in silence, put up with people crossing my boundaries, and continue hurting myself? I would hope not in her profession. She has no right to dictate what is right for me to do, to cope with a traumatic experience for me…  she may not understand my trauma, but that does not diminish its existence for me personally. If I had called her out, used her name and pointedly attacked her, and only her, then maybe… but as it was a general thread about my feelings and needs, it is wrong of her to tell her followers that I shouldn’t have posted it. Although if you think about it, she was telling her followers, many of whom suffer mental illness, or work in that field, that she thinks someone going through an intense episode of mental illness and reliving trauma, should not talk about it… should be quiet and take it out on her own flesh. She’s basically adding to the stigma. So… if that’s her choice….



biatch (3)


Something that needs saying, particularly with Mental Health Awareness Week coming up, is that Tara is apparently a ‘trauma therapist’, and psychology undergraduate. Good fucking luck to anyone who has the misfortune of being treated by her! She showed a total lack of awareness of TRAUMA and how it affects people!!! She’s meant to be an expert in it, and having explained my trigger being ‘public humiliation’, she went on to tell all her followers my name by retweeting me, and totally humiliating me, opening me up to potential abuse from those who follow her. It is shocking that someone who apparently knows about trauma, and specialises in trauma therapy, has no clue about ‘triggers’.





I have to admit that I did ‘overreact’ to her challenging my opinion. But I explained why that was. I wrote something along the lines of:

“From time to time I will express an opinion that some of you may not agree with. And you have a right to not agree with it. You have a right to express your views on your own page. I also have a right to voice my feelings about subjects, without fear of being shouted down by the opposition. I do not post to debate anything. I post to express my worries, my frustrations and my emotions. I post to connect with people who feel the same. I post to not feel as isolated as I am atm. So when I have people jump on my tweets, arguing them and trying to show me up, whilst making themselves look/feel better, it makes me shut down and feel even more isolated. Many people would think ‘If you can’t take criticism don’t share your thoughts online’. But I have a right to an opinion just as much as anyone else. And I don’t understand why so many people nowadays seem to think they HAVE TO argue with opinions they disagree with. Why not scroll past? Or balance it out with your own view on your own page, without involving mine? I have been experiencing isolation that nobody could ever understand recently. I have also had my opinions attacked by other people very recently. My nerves cannot take this anymore, with the depth of my mental illness right now. So please have some consideration – especially if you are supposed to understand mental health, either as someone with mental illness, or as someone working with those who have it… think about how your need for winning arguments, and scoring political points could impact on the mental health of someone else. I just turned my hands black and blue and shouted the house down, in tears because of this – I’d hate to think the neighbours heard what I said. Anyone who thinks it’s okay to make someone feel like this will be blocked. I have a right to speak and be heard. Sometimes I might be up for discussing things, and I do understand freedom of speech includes the freedom to disagree, but I’m not mentally up to it atm. Consequently I removed the tweet that started it… to avoid any further upset. People say to ignore the haters – sometimes I can do that… sometimes I’m more sensitive, and they just hurt me too much. I try not to join in hashtags, so that I don’t invite people to attack my views. So if you’re a follower of mine, particularly one who’s in the know about mental health, please show me the respect right now, of allowing me to express myself. Because the alternative is I shutdown and internalise everything. My outburst before was because of a feeing of public humiliation, which is one of my biggest, if not THE biggest trigger for me. And given the state of mind I’m in currently, I can’t take any more of it. If you follow me and don’t like my opinions, please just unfollow me – I’d rather that than be made to feel like shit for using what little voice I have left. People have been systematically shutting down my voice in the past couple of weeks, and I now don’t feel safe airing my thoughts on Facebook, Twitter or on my own blog. I can’t talk to friends either as they’ve abandoned me at the worst time of my life. So I have nowhere to speak and release my feelings. I’m not looking for pity. I’m looking for understanding and a bit of kindness. I will try and keep my opinions to myself. But if by chance you happen to see one, and you don’t agree with it, please do what I do to your opinions, and just ignore them and go about your day. Disagreements don’t always need to be aired. And I would appreciate it if for the time being at least, people refrain from debating with me. Some people are made for debates. I am not. And I’m fragile right now. But I’ll try my best to keep my feelings to myself. It’s safer that way.”


I was trying to explain how I felt, rather than harming myself again. I’d already punched the living daylights out of my hands as a result, but I thought if I calmly explained what was going through my head, and what I needed from people, they might actually respect that, and respect me. But no, just as with everyone else, she decided to take it personally, make it about her, and tell all her followers what a crazy, bad, out-of-line person I am. She decided to tell everyone that it’s MY fault. That she did nothing wrong. Now, fair enough she probably didn’t actually do anything wrong. I admit that. I admit that it was a trigger for me, so it made me relive a lot of traumatic experiences, which any legitimate trauma therapist SHOULD understand for God’s sake – so my reaction appeared out of the blue to her. Now, I used the word ‘attacked’ because that’s how it feels to me. Whether it was meant as an attack is irrelevant. In my mind it felt like it, not because it was, but because she’s not the only one who has done that to me recently. Anytime I’ve built up the confidence to say something I’ve had somebody argue against it. To somebody mentally healthy they’d probably just shrug it off, but I’m the most ill I’ve been in fifteen years. I’m isolated. I have no support system. I’m having to cope with everything alone, and I’m in so much pain. I feel so worthless. And I’ve been shut down by people. It triggered me. It knocked my confidence. It made me feel worthless and like I don’t have a right to speak. I felt as if the only words everyone wants to hear me say are these below:


biatch 4 (2)



She said it wasn’t a personal attack, and she said she’s not responsible for how I respond to a reasonable tweet. No. But she is responsible for retweeting my explanation of my trigger, and further triggering me in that way… to ‘get back at me’. But you know what, she did worse to me, than I did to her. Because in my explanation I made no reference to who she was. It was a general message to my followers so that they understood what I needed, and what my boundary was. She took it personally – that’s her reaction to it, which to quote her ‘I am not responsible for‘. But she chose to post about me on her twitter feed, quoting me, so that I was not some anonymous person. And if she even read it, she was fully aware of my trigger being ‘public humiliation’ and she CHOSE to do it. She IS responsible for that. 


She is supposed to be a professional. She should be aware of the consequences of her actions… this includes online. I immediately cut my arm, slashed at my leg multiple times and injured my hands even more. Now, people would argue – ‘You’re responsible for self-harming… you made that choice’. But let me tell you, very often I can make that choice. When my emotions are heightened to that degree, and someone is deliberately triggering me, it’s like seeing red. It was a BPD episode, mixed with an anxiety attack, as I was shaking, felt sick and my heart was all over the place. In those moments I do not have control over myself. In those moments there is no choice. In those moments I am not responsible – the person who upset me to that degree that I have no power over myself, is responsible for what I do. Ultimately I am responsible, because I am the one who has power to learn better coping methods. In my calmer times I can replace self-harm with less destructive behaviours. I can try and stop self-harming. But I’m in a place at the moment, where I am not recovered. I am not even recovering. I’ve been steadily going backwards in my recovery. I admit I am not even trying to stop self-harming at the moment. I have no psychological support. I have no close friends. I’m trying to cope with this shit of a life on my own. I know she would attack me and say I made the choice to cut myself, it’s not her fault. But that is so unprofessional, and she shouldn’t be working with vulnerable people, if she can’t understand trauma, BPD and self-harm.


trauma is personal



I know in a logical mind that I should not be blaming anyone for ‘making me self-harm’. Nobody can make you do anything. But given that I don’t have any other way to cope right now, this was going to be my go-to action. And she must have known the effect it would have on me to publicly humiliate me by posting about me. As a mental health professional she should not have done that, and I am going to report her, advising people that she needs more training in trauma… the very thing she specialises in. A mental health professional needs to be compassionate, tactful and considerate… and display empathy. She showed none of these things.


It terrifies me, the sorts of people they allow to train to be mental health professionals nowadays. One of the other people who hurt me last year in this same sort of way, is training to become a counsellor. She was vile to me. These people don’t tolerate a different opinion. Tara claimed that she was just expressing a different opinion – trying to paint herself as the victim. But actually by arguing MY opinion she was showing she couldn’t tolerate that different opinion. An opinion is just that, and it should be accepted. It should be allowed to stand there unchallenged. If someone argues it they’re showing they are intolerant of that person’s belief and ‘have to set them straight’. If you don’t agree just carry on with your life. I don’t understand this need on the left to argue with people you disagree with, it’s crazy. She also said it was starting a discussion… no it was starting a debate, as it was a different opinion. She also implied that I’m naïve – now that is a personal attack. She was trying to backtrack and appear like a victim. I wish people could see something they don’t like, and either just move on and let someone feel how they feel, without feeling the need to challenge it… or that they could say ‘Well, I disagree but fair enough’.


Okay, she didn’t know when she commented on my tweet, that it would trigger me. She clearly doesn’t read my tweets or my blog… otherwise she would have known. She did a false apology, in the sense of ‘I’m sorry you thought it was a personal attack’. That could’ve been it. That could’ve been the end. That could have been forgiven. I would’ve calmed down and seen it more rationally, and realised I overreacted. In fact I had calmed down. I thought it was over. But clearly my explanation triggered her. I thought I was doing the right thing by explaining why I overreacted and what I require from followers. I thought it was a good thing. She decided to open the wound up again. She had ‘apologised’, I had explained. She went into victim mode, and attacked me, properly this time. She deliberately chose to do that. If by some miracle she’s the same as me, and doesn’t have control of her reactions when emotional, then should she really be working with people who experience trauma? Honestly?


biatch 5 (2)



This may seem like I am now attacking her. But I am furious that a so-called ‘mental health professional’ would treat me so badly that I harmed myself as much as I did yesterday. I had a breakdown. Thankfully my mum was with me, otherwise I probably would’ve done something permanent. But I wanted to die. I wanted to hurt other people (never actually would, but the thoughts scared me). I wanted to check out of reality. I wanted to be sectioned. I felt it would be the only way to keep me safe. I’ve never felt like that before. I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t know what I was going to do. And it was terrifying. Anyone with BPD will know what I’m talking about. They will know how scary it is experiencing one of these episodes. And nobody should be pushed to that point – not by a professional. This post would also be deemed ‘uncalled for’ by her, but I assure you it would not have happened, had she not crossed a major boundary and deliberately triggered me that second time. My initial response may have been blown out of all proportion – that’s trauma for you. But I feel totally justified in discussing this issue on my own blog, after actions intended to upset me, and which caused me a lot of injuries.


As she had the knowledge it would upset me and I’m a self-harmer, it was the equivalent of me standing on the edge of a cliff, wanting to jump, and instead of talking me down and pulling me back, she gave me a little nudge and boasted to her friends as I plummeted to my death. That’s how it feels.


A mental health professional should know where to draw the line. The fact is, I deleted my tweets…. so nobody would have known I was referring to her. Nobody would have known. I didn’t specify in my explanation who it was… it was a general comment. Hers was targeted. I feel like it was an abuse of ‘power’. In that she is a professional and I am a ‘patient’ (though thankfully not hers). And she didn’t like that I wasn’t ‘in my place’ -below her. So she wanted to make herself feel more powerful by tweeting about me and hurting me. Again, that’s how it feels. It’s the ‘I know better than you’ manner…. but if she did know better than me, which she should as a professional, she wouldn’t have deliberately triggered me again. She would have understood that I’m experiencing trauma and a perceived ‘threat’. And she would have respected my feelings and my wishes. 


After a traumatic experience, the human system of self-preservation seems to go onto permanent alert, as i



Some people think of trauma as sexual abuse, rape, war, crime, natural disaster etc. But trauma can come from a range of different experiences. I was publicly humiliated routinely at school. I was bullied in front of the whole class with nobody intervening. I had a teacher grab my arm after I accidentally burnt my hand, shouting that I was a stupid girl, upsetting me instead of letting me treat it. I had friends a few years ago who hurt me badly by dragging other friends into disagreements. I’ve had trouble with this trigger last year, and also this year… a week ago. And so many more examples, which I talked about on a post recently, explaining the trauma I went through that left me with this mental illness, BPD. Every time I experience the same feeling of public humiliation, I relive ALL of these experiences. That my friend is what TRAUMA is. It’s flashbacks. It’s a build-up of experiences that mirror each other. That’s why it seems like an ‘overreaction’ because it’s not just about that one incident, it’s all of them. Any well-trained trauma therapist should know this. And if they don’t they should not be in the job – they are damaging to already ‘damaged’ people.  Sorry, I’m very angry about this. Mental health professionals should want to help people to get better…. they should not be allowed to make people feel worse. She has only added to my pile of traumatic experiences, and to the number of my scars, and now someone else will have to fix what she’s broken in me.


She might not think that I really have a mental illness – try telling that to my mum who sat with me through it all yesterday. She was validating me and telling me it was right that I was cross about it, and upset. That the things I shouted when I was breaking down were okay. She knew I didn’t mean them. She knows all about the shit I’ve been surviving through in the last couple of months, alone. She was telling me it’s not right, the way people are treating me. She kept me safe. After my second bout of self-harming she encouraged me to use my fidget cube and spinner, and tried to make things better for me. And whilst Tara may think my response was an overreaction, and silly… and ‘wrong’, my family know exactly why HER reaction was wrong, and the damage she’d just inflicted on me. They understand about triggers, and why it wasn’t a kind thing to do to deliberately trigger me. I think they understand better than this ‘professional’. Or perhaps it’s more that they understand me, and my illness, and my past. This girl didn’t – which I think is all the more reason to be kind to people and try not to hurt them. I guess I have to forgive her, as she doesn’t know the shit I’ve been through in my life and how close to ending it all I am currently. All I can hope is when I report this she’ll learn from the experience and not traumatise vulnerable people anymore.


Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life, and I’m in a lot of pain today. But I feel calmer. I feel safer, as I’ve protected my tweets now, so only my followers can see them… not that it would’ve helped in this case as she was one of my followers! But if anyone ever makes me feel that way again they’ll get an instant block. I only want people who respect my right to be heard, my wishes, my feelings and understand mental illness and wouldn’t wish to hurt me.


The good thing about yesterday were the people on Twitter who supported me, and understood that I was upset. I’m grateful to those people more than they could know. They gave me a glimmer of hope, and a determination to not give up on life entirely, not yet. I won’t give unkind people the power to destroy me completely. It’s going to take a long time to recover, but I will rise from this and use it to educate mental health professionals about mental illness, and things they should bear in mind when speaking to people who experienced trauma, and who self-harm. This was just one of life’s cruel lessons, but so far I have survived it, and I will put it to good use and won’t allow this person to ruin my life. She’s not worth it.


Even writing this blog I feel hyper-alert to potential threat. I feel I’m going to be criticised for this. I’m scared she’s going to search me out and attack me. I can’t afford to lose control and harm myself again. I’m worried other people will have a go at me for speaking out about this. But this was a highly upsetting encounter for me, and having no safe place to express myself, I choose to listen to followers of this blog, who say this is my space and I’m free to voice my feelings. I am terrified to do so though. Everything I’ve done lately seems to have been ‘wrong’. But I’d like to see how anyone else would handle what I’m going through right now. I’m not doing it to be a bitch. I’m doing it in order to discuss the concept of trauma and triggers – and highlighting the understanding that it seems even mental health professionals lack, around the behaviours of those with a painful past. I hope people will have the compassion and understanding I need. I’m not coping at all with life right now, and I don’t want to do it. And incidents like this, especially coming from people who should be compassionate and understanding, don’t exactly inspire me to stay alive. But I’ll try for now. If things get any worse I’ll have to re-evaluate.


My next blog will hopefully be about validation and the necessity for it with BPD – this person was incredibly invalidating, but I received much-needed validation from other sources, and that’s what brought the intensity of the crisis down. I want to start blogging about helpful things again, but sometimes life gets too much and I need to vent. I hope people will be forgiving.


Thank you to all those who continue to support me, and defend my voice. It means a lot. And I owe a lot to my family. They gave me a beautiful plant and chocolate today, to cheer me up, and I feel so much love for them. I wouldn’t still be here without them.