“If you could read my mind you’d be in tears”

While writing, I listened to Sad Beautiful Tragic by Taylor Swift

It was the 4th of July. I had just turned 21 a day earlier and was ready to take advantage of drinking legally- as cliché as it sounds. I had just returned to Boston to resume my studies after taking a year off to pursue acting in Los Angeles- but that’s a different story. I only had a couple of months of school left so instead of making any drastic career decisions, which would have been sooo typically borderline, I decided to come back to Boston to complete my college degree.

Classes had barely started and I could already feel the pressure: school, social life, best friends, boys and exes. Not to mention plans to get in shape and loose plenty weight before the beginning of the fall semester. Then, the high expectations regarding my upcoming birthday. Exactly about a year earlier in 2011 I had decided to take a leave of absence from college because my Depression and depressive phases had gotten so out of control that they were heavily interfering with my daily life and preventing me from enjoying myself during a time that is considered to be the peak of our lives.

Nevertheless, I was back and ready to complete my last year of college by catching up with summer sessions and overloading- or so I thought. In any case, Los Angeles had been great and I’d like to write about it in the near future. But more importantly, the whole year brought about some major developments:

  • I broke up with who I thought was the absolute and irreplaceable love of my life and the idea of the perfect human being and the perfect relationship
  • I went through major depressive anxiety attacks and uncontrollable episodes of crying, fighting, shouting and uttermost outbursts of despair- in a way I had never previously experienced
  • I started cutting myself again because I saw no other way to escape the uncontrollable pain I felt or rather thought. It was so bad that cutting myself until I’d bleed, as some of you know, felt so much better than being trapped by my terrifying feelings
  • I finally found a therapist and a psychiatrist who gave me a prescription for anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication to dampen my depression. In May, 2012 I started taking Zoloft, an SSRI and occasionally Adavan to help me cope with hyperventilation and anxiety attacks

Although, while I was in L.A. and shortly before I moved back to Boston I thought things were starting to get better, these prescription drugs were about to become my death weapon and road to suicide…



Till Death Do Us Part

While writing, I listened to Treacherous by Taylor Swift.

When it comes to most things in life, we have the ability to make choices that may not control our fate but certainly influence our future. When we choose the college we will attend, the relationship we begin with someone or, who we marry.

It is, in fact, when we marry someone that we say: “Till Death Do Us Part”. We make the choice to spend the rest of our lives together and share everything- the good, the bad, the ugly. But when it comes to Borderline Personality Disorder, we don’t have a choice, especially not when it come to the bad and the ugly.

After the diagnosis, you have to learn to live with it, because the only way to part from this disorder is to die. Surely, there are methods to learn to cope with Borderline, but everyday people like me die because they can’t bear sharing themselves, their lives, with such a disorder. They commit suicide.

At this point, as I am sitting here reflecting about Borderline and Death, I have to clarify something… Theoretically all our problems automatically ‘vanish’ when we die. But ideally this would occur once our time has come- and by that I mean old age and not suicide. Unfortunately, a couple of months ago, I thought different…