This is a personal piece. Please be aware some of the content may be triggering.
I’m starting to shut myself down. I’m pushing away my emotions. I’m pushing away people. I’m pushing away the question about how I am. It’s easier than you think. I’m putting on the mask of coping. I’m filling up my days. I’m doing everything I should and more. I’m not asking for help. This feels like a safety mechanism.
If you met me in my teens I would appear a misfit. I didn’t like what others did. I didn’t have that special friend. I had people I hung out with but I felt different. But the one major thing was I never told people how I was. Not truly. I might say I was good or fine. I might pretend to like a boy or be excited to find out a piece of gossip. I wasn’t. My brain was occupied by other things. By an emptiness. By a feeling of not being normal. But I shut it all down for years telling no one how I felt.
After my second suicide attempt I was referred to a psychiatrist in the CAMHs young person service that existed at the time for those aged 16-25. She noticed how shut down I was. How expressing myself was hard. That I couldn’t identify feelings or explain what I felt. I was diagnosed with “emotional developmental delay”. To this day that’s all I know about it. It wasn’t explained. I was rushed to start art therapy. Its aim was to get me talking and communicating. It was to get me to explore feelings. It was to make me feel. Issues with social skills were identified and worked on. It was the most useful therapy for me.
The problem though was that, that outlet was ripped away. I only had my friend’s to express all these new feelings to, that I still didn’t fully understand. I splurged on people not understanding the social cues. I got needy. I feared people leaving. Relationships went haywire. Crying became the norm. Every feeling was now released and overwhelming. Welcome to the world of BPD.
I was in the opposite of what I was comfortable with. I tried to put it all back in the box they’d made me open but it didn’t want to go back in, like when you take a duvet out of a bag and it never wants to go back in the same space. The emotions were released and wild. They were in control not me anymore. I hated it.
This has gone on a long time now. The extreme emotions. And now I’m finding the strength to get that duvet back in the bag. I’m shutting down my emotions, firstly to others, and then hopefully to myself. Yes self harm is part of the deal but it feels necessary as professional help is starting to be withdrawn. As I feel people have got saturated by having me in their lives. I don’t want to feel anymore so they don’t have to feel me too. It may be unhealthy but it’s what I feel I’m being forced to do to cope.