Fear of Triggers

Bad day's aren't really fun to talk about.  For one thing they always sound very dramatic, and really you can only be called dramatic so many times as a child, before you start to internally cringe at the word.  But the truth of the matter is that bad days are very hard, and to be honest about what we are going through in this process I need to talk about those days as well as the fun, silly times.  So bear with me. :)

A large part of my BPD is mood swings, that are very much influenced by situation and people.  Besides being overwhelming, tiring, and hard on relationships, it's really scary to not know when you are going to be triggered or how bad it will be.  It's always hanging over your head, even when you are smiling and trying to seem normal, sometimes just the impending nature of my illness makes it hard to smile even in the good times.  I feel like I have to hold on to the happiness tighter, this tends to make me seem a bit manic.  But you know, when life hands you a broken brain; make a blog. ( just some bad humor to lighten the mood)

I have noticed that I tend to do better earlier in the day, and get gradually worse in the later afternoon, evening and night.  However triggers can plunge the brightest of days into a sudden, and complete darkness.  It's hard to face just how easy it is to trigger me.  The slightest things tend to do it.  The question isn't whether or not I will be triggered, but how bad will it be, and when will I be found?  Will it be before I kill myself?  It's hard to feel like your friends and support system have to walk on eggshells around you.  I don't want them to have to be put out to the extent that they are.  I am not able to give much to a relationship at this point because I'm not sure that there is really a person besides this illness.

I know that they say to remember that "you are not your illness" but honestly when my therapist talks about peeling back all of the layers to my mask, and my acts to the real me, I find myself highly doubting that there is anything there.  I think we will just find a void, the echo of a person.  Maybe deep, deep, deep, down there is a person who wants to be helped, but I am really struggling to see anything besides the BPD.  Or any worth in who I am, or in my life.  People have told me that my writings are my flowers, and that I have worth, many people have tried to affirm me, it never feels real.  I think the real me, if she ever even existed, floated away years ago, she may be up in space looking at the stars, crying.