A Facebook post I might delete when I sober up
As some of you are aware… Sorry, sorry. Bad corporate joke — especially for someone who hasn’t worked for months. Let me start again.
To those of you who have tried to understand, who have been there the last few months, but also to those of you who haven’t, for reasons that belong to you and to you only or just because our paths haven’t crossed in a while: I am thankful for the friendship we share. There’s too much, and yet too little to understand right now, and ‘being there’ is a vague concept. None of us has the manual. We just do the best we can. I’ve been in that position and looking back, there are things I wish I would have done differently to support some of you and it fills me with regrets. Most of us have gotten in a dark place at some point in our life. Self-help books try to teach you that you only get out of it stronger. It might be true. Therapy tries to teach you that it’s your mother’s fault and that you can change (only half kidding there, but you get the idea). I might be true. Friends try to tell you that you’re still there, somewhere under that pile of shit. It might also be true. Ultimately, what matters is what your mind is telling you and whether you choose to believe it or not, and what you decide to do about it. It’s still a little unclear to me but I’m getting there.
I’m in this dark place, and it has a name: Borderline Personality Disorder. Ugly, eh. I’m not too fond of it myself. You’d think some smart shrink would have come up with something more accurate, like ‘Emotional regulation dysfunction’ or something, I don’t know, CLEAR, and not taken straight out of a Green Day song or whatever it is they had in mind when they came up with this. I’d be happy to tell you more about it but in all honesty, at this point who gives a shit. I can tell you that in short, it means my emotions are too intense and I can’t manage them. Yet. But what’s more important is that since I have been diagnosed 9 months ago, depression has taken over because therapy wasn’t available immediately. I actually only started three weeks ago. A lot can happen in 8 months when someone drops that kind of diagnosis bomb on you and tells you you will have to wait for months before you can start getting help. So yeah, it got ugly.
There’s a lot of stigma when it comes to mental health issues. Some of you disregard them, some of you understand them, some of you try to, some of you live with them — knowingly or not. Right now I live it and it’s a fucking dark place. There is stigma, but hiding it or not naming things is, I think, a mistake. It doesn’t define me, just like my being gay doesn’t define me. It’s still a bit of a coming out and I can live with that. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s something you learn to accept and manage and be happy with, and that others, those who love you, have to also learn to manage. It’s me, it’s you, it’s literally everyone and we live in a society that needs labels and boxes to feel comfortable and I won’t be the one to change this.
But I can be the one to say to all of you: I’m not just this, even if it often feels that way right now. I’m way worse and way better than this label. I’m stubborn and controlling, I’m funny and and downright annoying. I’m sensitive and loyal but sometimes I’m not there for you. I’m confident until I’m not, I laugh and I cry the next minute and it leaves you puzzled. I’m light and I’m intense. I’m all this. You are too, in your own way.
So to those of you who have been there for me — and some of you had to go through some really deep shit with me lately: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. And to those who haven’t: it’s okay. We don’t owe each other anything. We have our reasons/lives/backgrounds/priorities/sensitivities and it’s perfectly fine. And you’re probably wondering what the fuck is this ramble about. It’s, I think, an easy one and I don’t want to call it a call for help but maybe that’s just what it is. My Friday nights used to be full and I used to fucking love this and I miss it and I can’t reach out to you right now. So to all of you, friends or acquaintances, social drinkers, food lovers, karaoke-goers, dance club freaks or potheads: I’m not asking you to get into the dark with me. Just understand that calling or texting is a struggle for me. That it’s difficult to shake off the feeling of being of burden when I used to be the fun one, the one that said ‘fuck it let’s go dancing and singing and drinking and love each other and whatever the fuck happens.’ Text me because I can’t, and let’s do that. And I don’t have to bore you with the details of that Green Day song because I now have a therapist for it. Let’s have fun. That’s all the help I need right now. Let’s just have some fun and forget about the serious shit we all go though at some point. And I truly hope that if someday your universe darkens, I will be able to see it and text you. I can’t right now, but I can only promise that I will do my very best.