This is a bit of a rant, and it’s not really “at” anyone in particular so I hope no one takes offense to what I’m about to say.
How many times have you heard someone comment on another person’s emotional struggle along the lines of, “At least he’s staying strong,” or “At least she’s keeping busy,” or “I can’t believe how well he’s doing considering…” etc.
The gist of it is a sentiment that is communicated by virtually everyone you know (unless you’re incredibly lucky): Faking it is strong and praise-worthy. Expressing pain is immature, selfish, embarrassing, weak, and just all around bad.
Are you familiar with that message? If you’re a borderline, chances are you are DEEPLY familiar with it, so much so that you’ve literally separated into the classic BPD “parts” – namely, your fake self (fun, likeable, alluring, capable) and your real self (hateful, miserable, in agony, incapable of living).
Not all borderlines are so “clean cut” (so to speak), of course. There are many types, and it’s worth knowing which you are as it can be helpful to recovery. There are those whom the mental health world flatteringly dubs, “low-functioning borderlines.” These are the folks on a first-name basis with the cops and the ER staff, the ones who end up arrested or in psych wards, the ones self-harming so much that everyone knows about it, the ones too crippled by pain to stick with school or hold down jobs.
Now please understand: I’m not railing on borderlines who happen to have been arrested or visited ER; I’ve done both, incidentally, and would most certainly call myself a “high-functioning” borderline according to the terminology (did everything possible to hide my arrest and ER visits from anyone I knew (successfully, btw)). I am not railing on “low-functioning” borderlines and I do not really agree with the term.
What I AM railing against is the infuriating assumption that hidden pain = lesser pain.
This flies in the face of everything we do as a culture. Who gets the most attention from the teacher at school? The worst-behaved child. For those who, for whatever reason, can’t bring themselves to express their pain in ways that hurt, annoy or disturb other people, there simply isn’t much attention left to go around.
The exact same thing can be seen in the mental healthcare industry. Right now, I know that if I went to ER with slit wrists and a drug addiction, I’d be in an intensive therapy program with round-the-clock care. If I show up the way I did in 2010, terrified, quiet, shaking and feeling like I had no right to be there wasting anyone’s time, I’m going to get breezed over in the frenzy of activity over the patients who actually matter. No, it’s not really fair to put it that way, but it sure as fuck feels like it. The implication is: “Go home, you’re only thinking about suicide, we have people who actually attempted suicide to tend to right now.” Never mind the fact that research has shown those who bottle up their pain within themselves are MORE likely to actually commit suicide rather than attempt it.
I understand the logic of the response: screaming gets attention – silence does not. But that doesn’t make it any less painful or frustrating when I feel like I am constantly being fucking punished or ignored for being strong enough to function, to hold down a job, to maintain my responsibilities to others, to refrain from hurting people or breaking laws – strong enough to TRY, to spend hours each week actively working to build my self-worth so I do not get low enough to consider suicide. To get full-on pity-party here for a minute: I feel like all my hard work, all my pain, all of it goes totally unnoticed until it inconveniences other people.
This is the cycle I get stuck in and I see it in the lives and writings of so many other borderlines:
Self-destruct to get attention/communicate pain >> Get attention >> Get “better” (i.e. seem more functional) >> Get less attention >> Start to feel invalidated and ignored, like everyone’s forgotten your pain >> Invalidation erupts into painful, self-destructive episode all over again, etc. etc.
Eventually, you start to be terrified that deep down, no one actually cares, no one actually understands – they’re just responding to your manipulations and forms of emotional blackmail (“Pay attention or I’ll hurt myself”). And worse, you start to believe that you need your pain because without it, maybe no one will ever notice you again.
That is a scary, horrible, doomed, lonely-as-fuck feeling. I have been there so many times in the past 5-10 years.
Why is it all coming to a bit of a head for me now? Because I did the stupid, typical, “high-functioning,” goddamned passive-aggressive thing I always do: my parents (who only very recently found out about the BPD I’ve been hiding for 20 years) are leaving on a cruise tomorrow. They’re leaving on a cruise. I just “came out” to them with all of these mental health problems, with the revelation, in fact, that I’m feeling increasingly suicidal, and they are still going on the cruise they planned months ago. I feel ripped apart by pain and anger that they don’t have to see, don’t even notice.
And here’s where I hate myself because there is NO ONE to blame but me: Did they offer to cancel it? Yes. Did they say, “Tell us the truth – are you okay with us going?” Yes. Did they say, “We won’t enjoy this trip if you’re not alright”? Yes. Could I bring myself to tell the fucking truth? NO. God, I literally sat there lying my face off. I always, always do this. “Haha everything is fine! Don’t worry about me!” …. And then I sit and secretly stew and hate people and feel fake and alone because I’ve lied my way into isolation. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I honestly don’t what the answer is. I’m just fucking tired of the external pressure to “act okay” no matter how much pain I’m in, and even more so, I’m tired of how deeply I’ve internalized that pressure into an inner critical voice that will not let me tell others the truth or trust them enough to take care of me if I fall apart the way I want to when I hurt this much. But then, do I really believe anyone deserves that trust?
Wow. Note that this started out as a rant against other things/people (still definitely angry about them, don’t get me wrong), and ended up as a rant against myself. And that’s why writing stuff down helps to clarify things…
Cat xxxx
Half of a Soul - Life with BPD 