My brain was pounding; I kept repeating “I can’t do this anymore!” I couldn’t take another fight and surely couldn’t handle another argument.The bottle of aspirin was looking more like a crown in a glass case. In a matter of five minutes, almost three hundred pills were down, my throat catching on fire every time I crammed more down. I got myself downstairs sobbing over the misery that was my life and still managed to get more into me. I was able to find some comfort when I laid in bed. Tears of mascara hit my pillow as I did my best to nod off.I woke up in a bed of powder. This white dust was surrounding me; I couldn’t figure out howit had gotten there. It all made sense when I stepped in the shower and the powered water forced itself out of my stomach. I rinsed my body of dried tears and the thought of regret crept into my mind; I had two nieces, who needed an auntie. My mental disease whispered to me they were better off. I sat down in bed, and made myself send a small message to my brother, a simple I love you.
I laid my head down again, this time waking up to the pounding in my chest, my heart going a million miles an hour. I could barely catch a breath of fresh air. My legs wereshaking but I wasn’t able to put a movement through to them. My ears was throbbing. I could only hear a ringing, until the door broke down.
All of a sudden there was light, and people, and so much going on, people asking for my name, people asking what the white powder was, more that I wasn’t able to process. The only thing I got out of it was my sister in law had called 911; she had a bad feeling. By the time I had gotten to the hospital my blood pressure was well over 200, and they couldn’t pump my stomach; I was forced to do two treatments of dialysis to get the pills all out of my blood stream.
My doctors decided I wasn’t competent enough to go back into the real world, so they sent me to the Brattleboro Retreat. After three weeks of vigorous therapy six times a day, being surrounded by people who were mentally ill, and meeting many doctors, they had a diagnoses. BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) is when you’re unable to stop yourself from calm to frenzied. I take medicine so 90% of the time I’m at a normal emotional state, but I still have panic attacks, breakdowns, and times where I’m unable to control myself. I’ve been in an intense therapy for 6 months now, and I’m learning the skills I need to get through day to day life.
I almost died, by the hands of a mental disease I wasn’t even aware of.I hate when my mind wanders into what could have happened, and the thought I could not be here today. Regret fills my body when I think about it and I have spent the last year of my life in treatment and finding out who I am, and who I want to be. I’m now a successful college student with a job, a boyfriend, and a cat, all I’ve ever wanted. I have the life, a year ago I could have only dreamed about. And here I am, living my happily ever after.I won against Borderline Personality Disorder.