I tried writing on here before about my BPD condition, but I guess you didn’t get it,or I did something wrong. I now want to write about how crappy a week I’ve been having,due to an upstairs schizophrenic noisy neighbor that has forced me to wear earplugs at night so I can sleep. During the day,she opens and closes the glass sliding apartment door so she can smoke..But I am at the end of my rope with this person. She moves her furniture around loudly,and slams her windows and door,and am getting quite pissed off about it..I don’t know why the other neighbors haven’t complained. She has been here forever.She’s also overweight,so when she walks around,it sounds like Frankenstein up there,and she refuses to get carpeting put up,or even wear slippers.
Now I know that having BPD makes things worse (for me,anyway) and my blood has been boling for weeks now.My thinking has gotten worse over this..at first I was patient,and trying to not let it bother me,but now I get migraines from the noise,and being BPD, I fear going up there,cause I don’t like confrontations,and because I’m afraid I would hurt her!
I hate where I’m living,and really really want to move,due to Schizophrenic One,and there are 2 spoiled kids living in a house next door,and they are extremely noisy in the summer. I have gotten into trouble for having outbursts at them and their family,but I believe the whole family needs some counselling or something…
So I’m writing you for help! I’m depressed,and not having pleasant thought about what I want to do to the Neighbors,even the upstairs one,and myself.
Please note: I am going thru menopause,and I believe that that’s making these emotions worse! Can someone please,please,help me?
I just went through my inbox to check if I’d received or not published something you’d written, but other than this one and the one you wrote after this I don’t have anything else by you. :/
It may have already been published?
Dealing with anger and frustration with others is my weakest spot. It’s easy to say “just move” or “maybe write them a letter and asking, nicely, for them to consider a, b and/or c”, but that can lead to a confrontation worse than just talking with the person.
Also, it sounds to me — and obviously I could be wrong — that no matter what you’d say or how you’d go about saying/writing anything that neighbour would continue to do those things that annoy you. Maybe she can’t do anything else? Maybe she’s got a mean streak and enjoys pissing everyone else off? Maybe those annoying things, that I’m sure drives more than you mad, are important habits for her that she needs to continue doing?
Really, we don’t know the reason behind why. It probably doesn’t even matter. What does matter is that YOU are suffering because of it.
Is there a possibility of finding a new place to live?
Is there someone you can talk to when the frustration borders on rage? (I’m thinking more along the lines of mental health professional as they can offer some tips or advice, but to curb the frustration in the moment anyone you trust could be helpful).
It worries me that this person’s noise is interfering with your sleep, among everything else. Sleep is so important for us it’s crazy. And by “us” I mean humans, not just those of us with Borderline.
Sleep provides rest and a time for your body to relax and heal and just be all “YEAH MOTHER F***** I’MA BE ALL RESTED FOR TOMORROW!”
Maybe it’s just my body that gets so excited about sleep.
Either way it’s important for us to have the energy to get through the day especially when you add the emotional upheaval that Borderline brings as well as menopause and depression and everything else.
Can you stay somewhere — friend’s place, family? — for a night or two so you can get some decent sleep?
It’s not a permanent fix, but it might be helpful for reducing some frustration (some, not all).
I’m sure there will be heaps of suggestions and ideas from everyone so hopefully you’ll be able to come up with a plan or way of managing or something to ease the current turmoil.
I’m not a stupid person. I am college educated. Graduated with honors. Top of my class. Yet, some people have that misconception. They think that mental illness is like a developmental disability. But I’m not stupid. My internal world just doesn’t function the way other people’s does. I’m too subjective. The world happens to me, not around me. It’s hard not to take things too personally when I’m not attentive to anything outside of my own mind. It doesn’t mean that I am conceited or selfish. Some people have that misconception too. It’s just that my internal world is too overwhelming. I can’t escape my own mind. I dissociate from reality. A lot. The problem is, I know somewhere in the back of my mind that that’s what’s happening but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I’ve had 4 years of DBT. I thought I was better. And granted, I have made some improvements. But I’m still not better. I just deluded myself once again. It’s still not okay to be me. There’s nothing okay about being who I am. I hate who I am. I hate that I can’t ever express myself to the people that are around me. And more than that, I hate that the people around me don’t even give me a chance to express myself. Why should they though? People are really only concerned with themselves anyway.
After 4 years of fighting BPD, I finally decided to move to a bigger city and get a job. I thought I’d be okay. I really honestly thought I’d be okay. I lasted 9 days. I had no idea anything was wrong until it was already too late. They never even said anything. Same story. Same old story. They called me a liar. But I never lied. Not once. It was all just a bunch of misunderstandings because I can’t express myself. I don’t know how to communicate very well with people.
And now I have to wonder… Is 9 days really enough time to get to know a person? It’s nice to know the world won’t even give me a shot. I never even had the chance to defend myself. When they brought me in front of the supervisors I was already guilty in their eyes. I never had a chance to fight back. All I learned was that being honest gets me no where. I’ll be called a liar either way. It’s not okay to be me. I feel like a horrible person. A failure. My counselor always says that feeling isn’t equal to being. But in this case I think it is.
I want to go to the hospital. I feel unstable. Not unsafe. Just unstable. But I feel like I can’t afford to go. People keep e-mailing me today. They say they are worried. I’m too scared to be around anyone right now. I don’t want to show them how sick I am. I don’t want them to worry about me even more and if I go to see them… I can’t hide who I am from them. I hate being sick. But at the same time it’s familiar. And unfamiliar things are scary.
If it’s not okay to be myself…. who can I be? This time I really didn’t want to fail. Now I feel like no matter where I go or what I do it will end up the same way. If people don’t hate me now, they will eventually. They always do.
This is all a little detached. But thanks for letting me express some thoughts here, even if they were unorganized and lacking context. I had no one else to tell. To be me is to be alone. Isn’t it sad that we are all alone together? I wish it wasn’t like that.
I found your blog whilst perusing found web sites regarding BPD. I live on the east coast of the USA and have suffered from BPD for most of my life, gaining a formal diagnosis in 2005 after a suicide attempt and short, 24 hour hospitalization. I’m an almost 45 year-old, 6 foot tall, blue-eyed, white male. Average. With tattoos over 30% of my body (every major body part/region has at least one). I underwent psychiatric care, got into a semi-stable relationship after a devastating divorce, graduated from college and graduate school, and now work in the mental health field as a budding therapist of sorts. For all intents and purposes, my life appears “normal” from the outside. All my so-called “friends” see my successes, family (two claimed children, one…well, that’s another post), wife, and all other indicators of the American dream as normal.
I’m a raging torrent of emotional instability most days. Ha! Bet my “friends” didn’t see that one coming! I’d like to address the idea of friends, if I may. I’m what people refer to as “the one with no friends.” Poor me, no one to relate to; I prefer it that way. I’d like to believe my wife is my best (and only) true friend, but that’s questionable given recent developments (recent meaning the last 12 months) and due to my own desire to “look elsewhere.” Very few people know (in the Northern Hemisphere) that I went looking for another “friend” outside of my marriage. Yet another BPD reality for those of us living with it. Remember the DSM criteria? (Thanks, Renee, for posting it!). It was a very intense, emotional roller coaster ride for a short few weeks. Needless to say, I’m still searching for true friendship in this life. Here’s where my post gets really difficult.
My father died over three years ago. I miss him terribly and am somewhere between the shock and anger stages of the Kubler-Ross grief spectrum. HE WAS MY ONE AND ONLY FRIEND in this mortal life. What a colossal loss! He was my chief advocate, the one who cared for me after mother died when I was a child, the one who knew all my struggles, the one who tried to genuinely help during and after my brief hospitalization in 2005, the one who accepted me and loved me, even when I struggled with identity issues. The one who walked with me when I left the military due to a conscientious reason. My only true friend in this life. The one I never made peace with. I tried to when I visited him when he was comatose before his death, but it was one-sided; no reciprocation on his part. He could not. And now he’s gone and I’m left alone to fend for myself. I feel as though I’ve regressed yet again. I’m confused. My wife has rejected me for years; she finally admitted it. We’re both in therapy, but I’m not too hopeful. I feel trapped by conventionalities, by religion, by me.
Living with BPD is at once comforting and debilitating. While it provides answers to many of life’s troubling aspects, it provides little hope of something different. Great, I get to manage a mental health illness for the rest of my life. Even though I’ve moved from consumer to provider, I’m still beset by BPD. I was able to send it into remission, but for a short few years. Now it’s back raging as ever.
Thanks, Renee, for your compassionate blog/vent pipe for those of us who suffer with BPD. For those who are reading out of genuine curiosity, we are among you. And we suffer silently each and every day. Cut us a break by keeping your damn mouths shut and your opinions to yourselves.
BTW – I’ve visited and/or lived on every continent except Australia. It’s on my bucket list. Cheers!
A person, whom I consider my “best friend” (I used the quotation marks because we’ve known each other for quite a long time and we share similar interests, but we’re not really close - anyway, it’s the closest I can be to someone, so… yeah) has some existential problems right now. She can’t find a job and her mother wants to throw her out of the house. I feel sorry for her, but I can’t really help her and I secretely think it’s her own fault (she used to skip school a lot and has stolen some money from her mother before), I haven’t told her though.
She doesn’t know I have a BPD (I’m not diagnosed, because I’m trying really, really hard to keep being high-functioning and I just can’t talk to anyone about my problems) and she keeps saying that people who cut themselves and feel depressed for ‘no actual reasons’ are awful losers, when she has some ‘real problems’. I can’t even say how angry and frustrated does that make me feel. There is no way to measure pain or sadness, it’s incredibly stupid to think that one reason to be unhappy is more reasonable than the other. Noone deserves to be sad (okay, I believe that some people actually do deserve that, but generally). It makes me want to punch her in the face for being so ignorant. Like I didn’t feel really bad about myself already.
I don’t want to use my Personality disorder as an excuse for my behaviour, all I want is some understanding that I really try to not be this way. When I can consciously control it , I mean.
If you hate me then fine, just understand this isn’t the person I want to be. And if I could have it any other way I really would. This is the hand I’ve been dealt, nothing can change that.
I’m sorry to anyone that I hurt; I’m not saying don’t be angry at me. Just like a physically ill person might not be able to help throwing up sometimes, I can’t always control my outbursts and moodiness.
Just some understanding and support is all I want.
BorderlineLife note: I read this submission and wondered who’d been reading my notes or journal. I think — and feel — this a lot and it’s a shock to see someone else does too.
Thank you for submitting this piece.