Uncertainty Is A Scary Thought, But It’s My Normal
Borderline Personality Disorder is defined by uncertainty. Who am I? What am I? Do you love me? Will you leave me? Will this pain ever end? Every day, when I open my eyes, I ask myself these questions. Mostly it ends with, why do I need to live?
In the world-before-Covid-19, this uncertainty was my own. All around me was a stable, grounded world. People with purpose. People with lives. A world that goes on, regardless of whether you’ve cried yourself to sleep the night before or wrestled with so much self-hate you’d rather die. A world that doesn’t care about the next day, because it’s going to be another day of work, success, and ordinary human interactions. A world of normalcy.
That all changed nearly overnight.
Suddenly, the ones who seemed so at peace are worried, afraid, nervous. The ones who always told me my mood swings were “just a mindset” are plagued by anxiety and uncertainty. The external world is no longer secure, and people no longer feel safe. And I look at all of this in confusion: to me, it is like any other day. The uncertainty, the fear, the exhaustion, the desperate struggle to stay normal in the midst of anxiety — that’s my everyday.
It is truly odd to see my everyday reflected in the eyes of others. It is almost unsettling. Don’t get me wrong: I am afraid of Covid-19. I am afraid someone I love will get the virus, or worse — may not survive its assault. I am shocked at the inefficiency of governments all over the world, horrified by the sheer numbers of unnecessary deaths brought about by incompetence and nothing more. I worry over the repercussions of this global pandemic on my life, my job, my survival. But all this is normal in my war-torn mind. While the reasons are different, the emotions are the same: fear, uncertainty, agony.
Now I struggle with a new emotion. I struggle with guilt.
Guilt that, with all the chaos and panic that’s ripping across the world and all the stay-home notices, I feel… normal. I’m clear-headed for once. No longer do I need to put up pretenses at the office, desperately control my mood swings, or struggle with identifying when I’m splitting or irrationally fearing abandonment.
At home, in the four walls of my room, I am well and truly alone. It’s just me, my work, and my BPD. The isolation is both cathartic and devastating. Without a person to affect me — whether it’s through having to control my emotions or desperately trying for attention and love — I am at peace. Or rather, I am numb. For once, I feel nothing, because everything is unstable and it has become a new normal.
This won’t last. Research on multiple vaccines and treatments is underway, and I’ve great hope in our scientists and brilliant minds. The world will eventually return to normalcy, although the definition of normal is now up for debate. The pandemic has reset our way of life, and it remains to be seen how we as a race handle its assault. Regardless, I’m sure that humanity will survive and emerge stronger, better, victorious.
And I can’t help but wonder, what about me? When the world finds stability, will I do so too? Or will I return to my days of struggling to live a normal life? Can I find the strength to keep fighting then?
I am defined by uncertainty. And I hope that one day, as we define a new normal, I may find safety in its stability.
