I am a bit terrified to be writing about this, but…
…Here I go. I have decided that writing can indeed be therapeutic.
I have been looking for a way to get out of my crazy making space. To find something that feels more grounded, and yet, more surreal, empty, and open. A place that I can make into whatever I want it to be.
And it can be whatever I want it to be. No one has control over these words except for me. And so, I think that’s pretty damn awesome.
I used to think that things happened to me (bad things, unfortunate things) for random reasons. I wondered why I had such a difficult time relating to others. Why my relationships often seemed to be shallow. And how they’d turn sour or cold when I would start to get close to someone.
When I found out I had Borderline Personality Disorder, it all made sense. The diagnosis is both terrifying and freeing.