Recently, the mere anticipation of writing has resulted in instant mental paralysis, until this morning when I spilt an entire cup of coffee – the second in a fortnight. To put it succinctly, I lost my shit.
Not nearly enough is written about Borderline Personality Disorder, and often what little there is, however insightful, leaves you with a foreboding sense of the enormous obstacles preventing us from functioning on a similar level to those free of this frustrating and debilitating condition…
Society has strict ideas about what is acceptable to talk about, and what isn’t. When you chose to break this code of silence, you run the risk of being ridiculed, ostracised, even threatened. If your words make people uncomfortable, to protect themselves – they judge. Suddenly, you find yourself on the outside looking in. This is how the culture of shame keeps its victims mute.
But secrets eat away at you. They weigh you down and, like a cancer, spread to other areas of your life, contaminating, changing, so that eventually, you become a different person. The only way out is to break your silence, before the silence breaks you.