Rev #1 NormalNormal?
Normal: A self-created standard in the American household. Is there any idea left such as this? It was as if I craved nothing more than to be considered as so. It has no meaning left to someone in a world so full of ever-changing standards. In my mind I was far from the standards of normalcy. Ideas and thoughts of what made me so different, created questions I had no answers to. It was the life I had lived that made it all too surreal. It appeared like my mind had been so vague at describing the few good qualities of my life.
Thoughts of my fractured mind flow like waves in the sea, no synchronization and no purpose, but there nonetheless. Clashing thoughts of idealization or devaluation become a constant change for what seems like an eternity. My life is driven by the impulsivities that created my borderline personality. Emptiness consumes the space of what used to be held dear to me, fun activities, loved ones, even simple tasks.
There is no color. My thoughts remain only in black and white. The downward spiral that followed my diagnosis enraged the lack of emotional stability and carried me on this voyage into the deep and endless ocean. Giving in to weaknesses and temptations became a daily struggle as I was drowned by the never-ending waves cascading over me. Every piece of sadness was washed down by the alcohol infected beverages. The bottom of a bottle is all too lonely for someone with the dependency of a child. Numb to the world, or so I thought, I had let myself become a victim of a clinical statistic. I had become that boat set out to sea never to return.
With judging eyes following me, I wanted to prevail above this. At that very moment I knew that normal is different for everyone. We all have our views of how people should be. It was not until now that I realized I was where I needed to be in my eyes.
Weeks turned into months as I went through therapy and happiness came over me like a flood. It was as if the reassurance of a stranger made all the difference. If we are who we make our self out to be, then the unachievable goal of being normal was never the issue. It was who I was all along.
LostInBPD 22-25, M 8 Responses 12 Feb 6, 2013