Living with an invisible brain injury is often suffocating and lonely. It sounds trite, but you won’t understand it unless you’ve dealt with one yourself.
I guess it’d be cute if I were 17 years old and people saw my forgetful, clumsy self as quirky. I am in my 30s, though. I can’t rely on cuteness to push me in life. Nothing works that way at my age.
I know that BPD gets the rap as one of the hardest mental illnesses because we are “manipulative and deceiving,” but once I received my diagnoses, it woke me.
I don’t know why it took two years to let you go. I certainly didn’t mean to fall for your potential, but I did.
Deep in my heart, I know we must all be in positions of vulnerability to grow.
Trigger warning: Child abuse As children, it is natural to believe that adults have children’s best interest at heart.
I choose to believe that if you can make the conscious choice to get up and go about your day, then you have the choice to decide if the world will break you.
I went into a coma due to a combination of my battle with bulimia and an overdose on antidepressants.