I do my best to accept myself, and with the right methods sometimes I achieve exactly that…

But then…

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….

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