Diary Of a Borderliner

When a person receives a diagnosis, one of a few things tends to happen.

They are either filled with relief because they finally have the answer they have been searching for an answer the provides all the reasons they act the way they do.

Or the other reaction is that your broken. Absolutely broken because now there is a label that is attached to your name. You are deemed a “crazy” person and people will look at you differently.

Your like me and you were TOTALLY pissed off. Like completely engulfed in pure rage that you met with this so called licensed “psychiatrist” who labeled you with 5 different labels, in 7 minutes I seen him after waiting 2 years to see him. Pissed.
When I left the office I was handed a card with a website on how to deal with anxiety and a print out giving me “tips” on how to get better sleep.

Thanks, Bud. That was worth the wait for sure. The wait I waited for anticipating answers, strategies to get better, aides, workshops, I don;t know exactly but something more than I got.

Utter Bullshit.

It took a while to get over that, not going to lie, rage is one of my favorite feelings, I spent some time in bed (ok, almost a month) of hating my life, hating my existence and trying to accept the fact that I have conditions that have no “cure” for and I will live this way for the rest of my life. The wallow of self pity was a bit overextended and I felt completely broken and cast away from the mental health system.

So I decided.  I HAVE depression. I HAVE panic Disorder, I HAVE massive Anxiety, I HAVE acrophobia,  and I HAVE borderline personality disorder.

I AM NOT ANY OF THOSE THINGS and THEY WILL NOT DEFINE ME.

I WILL PUSH THE LIMITS, I WILL GROW MYSELF and I will 100% TAKE RESPONSIBILITY of me and MY care. Period.

Do not allow yourself to become your diagnosis. Use your diagnosis to grow

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