I do my best to accept myself, and with the right methods sometimes I achieve exactly that…
there are THOSE days. The days where my mind’s desolate passenger takes over and steers my thoughts of the road of happiness and acceptance straight into a ocean of ominous, pessimism. Waves of depression hitting rocks of memories of mistakes, regrets, and hurt. Sending my emotions on a roller-coaster that starts with rage and ends in self-hatred. It’s on these days that I find myself wishing i could go back in time to moments where i had “episodes” and hurt people i cared about, lost moments of a happy life, and hindered aspects of my future. Go back and just… do it differently. Stop it somehow. Thoughts of hurt and tragedy that I blame myself for… my mentally ill self.
Like the episodes i had that caused me to end up loosing my family. Family that to this day doesn’t understand or forgive me. The hurt and neglect i feel now, i seem to blame myself for. It’s one thing to have another part of yourself take actions you wouldn’t in the ” right state of mind”,but it’s a whole other thing to have that part of you destroy and still be apart of you no matter what you do.
Maybe if i was diagnosed earlier i wouldn’t have ended up in situations where i had my heart ripped apart….
Maybe if I was ruined by life i wouldn’t have BPD.
Maybe I should blame those who caused my hurt and tragedy, but i can’t seem to blame any one but me.
Maybe if i wasn’t mentally ill, i wouldn’t have done the things i’ve done, wouldn’t have been hurt the way i have been, wouldn’t feel so alone like i do, and most of all….just wouldn’t be me….