recovering from borderline personality disorder

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

968

Abstract

;utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure>I’ve never told anyone this, and I don’t plan to, but I’ve been considering therapy in the recent months; I don’t wish to exclaim this aloud because only then would it make it real.Part of me still argues that I don’t need it…this varies day to day, though finding more certainty in truth.I’m being vulnerable with myself for what feels as if the very first time — I’m uncomfortable (in more ways than one), in denial, enlightened and frightened all at once.I’d like to exclaim this next verdict with confidence, as I truly believe that I’ve sought the right guidance and acquired enough reliable knowledge to find it as truth…a truth I must now sit with and come to terms with its reality: I am recovering, more gently as of late, from borderline personality disorder.And I’m beginning to believe that this weight never truly diss

Options

ipates, it simply evolves.Once you strip the very thing that eats away at you from what it thrives off of — in my case, impulse, aggression, ego, a lack of self-compassion and belief — you find what strengthens the foundation to healing entirely.Only then do you find yourself for what you truly are: in my case, a highly sensitive individual — a transformation, still with imperfection and weaknesses, though, for once, strengths and hope as well.I’m starting to realize that’s why I’ve been so exhausted lately…my body has been telling me that it’s safe to rest now — the war is over, and I can go home.I didn’t realize this at first, and still, I fought, pushing myself to keep going, but all I had to do was put down my weapons…my shield —I’m shaking as I write this, and I can’t tell if I’m crying now because I’m happy or if I’m absolutely terrified.</article></body>

a journal entry

some Friday in March

I always regret when I don’t bring my journal with me outside along with my morning coffee, so I brought it with just in case.

I don’t have much to say, only what’s in my mind, so I’m certain this may change.

I’m being vulnerable with myself, and I’m starting to realize that this act goes beyond crying and allowing myself to feel (or not) what needs to be, beyond self-soothing myself, gently grazing my fingertips back and forth along my back as I ache for it all to stop.

I’ve never told anyone this, and I don’t plan to, but I’ve been considering therapy in the recent months; I don’t wish to exclaim this aloud because only then would it make it real.

Part of me still argues that I don’t need it…this varies day to day, though finding more certainty in truth.

I’m being vulnerable with myself for what feels as if the very first time — I’m uncomfortable (in more ways than one), in denial, enlightened and frightened all at once.

I’d like to exclaim this next verdict with confidence, as I truly believe that I’ve sought the right guidance and acquired enough reliable knowledge to find it as truth…a truth I must now sit with and come to terms with its reality: I am recovering, more gently as of late, from borderline personality disorder.

And I’m beginning to believe that this weight never truly dissipates, it simply evolves.

Once you strip the very thing that eats away at you from what it thrives off of — in my case, impulse, aggression, ego, a lack of self-compassion and belief — you find what strengthens the foundation to healing entirely.

Only then do you find yourself for what you truly are: in my case, a highly sensitive individual — a transformation, still with imperfection and weaknesses, though, for once, strengths and hope as well.

I’m starting to realize that’s why I’ve been so exhausted lately…my body has been telling me that it’s safe to rest now — the war is over, and I can go home.

I didn’t realize this at first, and still, I fought, pushing myself to keep going, but all I had to do was put down my weapons…my shield —

I’m shaking as I write this, and I can’t tell if I’m crying now because I’m happy or if I’m absolutely terrified.