An addition to the last post, written while panicky.

Content warning for maybe ableism on my part towards BPD sufferers? I don’t know. Also emotional abuse warning.

R was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder recently. Ever since I found out (I checked R’s social media to make sure he was ok after the bereavement) I’ve had trouble whenever I see things online relating to BPD. But then I decided that was wrong and I should find out more. I saw this: http://www.helpguide.org/articles/personality-disorders/helping-someone-with-borderline-personality-disorder.htm on a post about self-care on tumblr (the BPD section began with this which isn’t really helpful to someone who actually has BPD but ok) and I read it and… I’m kind of going into a spiral of shame right now. The part about how loved ones feel abused. Maybe I wasn’t actually abused. I just feel abused. R didn’t abuse me, BPD abused me maybe but maybe I just felt that way! Aaaaaargh. Why’d I read that????

My brain is just spinning. People with BPD are survivors. People with BPD are disproportionately victims of abuse. Moss was abused by someone with BPD. Moss hates the things described in the above article. The angry outbursts. Walking on eggshells around someone you love. (And I love R so much, even now.) Oh my god, the part in the blue box. Is that a box describing if someone you know has BPD? Or is it a list of signs of emotional abuse? Is it both? I just don’t know!! My chest feels tight and i can’t draw a breath.

The only way I can slightly comfort myself is to remember that 12 year old me couldn’t do any of those things the article recommends. I had no healthy relationships outside my home. And though my parents and brother and sister were loving, they didn’t understand what it was like. They never saw anything but a friend of mine who they didn’t want around due to the drama. My mum cared for R because she knew R’s relatives and some of his background, but she didn’t know what truly went on between us. I was obviously miserable in this friendship but no one ever acknowledged how hard it would be for me to escape it. If R hurt me, I should just leave. That was all. No help leaving, no techniques to help cut the ties, just go. I was fucking 12. (and 13, and 14, and 15, and 16, and brief respite for year 17 but then I was 18, and 19, and 20, and 21, and 22, and 23, and 24, and 2motherfuckin’5.)

If you’re reading this, I need to reach out. Do you know anywhere that helps survivors of emotional abuse that helps people whose abuse wasn’t either a spouse or family?

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