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I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD) in my 20s after a pill overdose and a pseudopsychotic episode. After receiving outpatient care for a year, I was told that I no longer met the criteria for BPD. In the years since, I've been living my life with the understanding that I have depression, anxiety, and complex posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). This changed in 2022. (Note: This post contains a trigger warning.)
When I was in college, I was so busy with school and socializing that I never had a moment or a reason to be bored. I was never even bored during my classes. But as a working adult, life is much more mundane. Outside of work, there are times when even my hobbies seem boring. In this post, I talk about my experience with boredom, how it affected my mental health, and the ways I overcame it.
When experienced in tandem, self-sabotage and self-harm can create a unique psychological trap that is difficult—but not impossible—to escape.
The truth is out. I'm a mental health blogger who is not entirely comfortable talking about my mental health journey. Yes, I divulge details of one of the most painful and personal experiences in my life on the Internet that anyone can see with the click of a mouse or a tap of a finger, but every time I hit "publish," I get a little rush of fear. I fear that my colleagues will read my articles and think I'm a less competent worker. I fear that the guy I'm interested in will read about my experiences before I feel it's time to sit down and tell him directly. The funny thing about my fear is that it's not manufactured solely by myself; it's a byproduct of societal influence.
The topic of suicide is one that many people shy away from but shouldn't. The overwhelming feelings of despair and hopelessness should receive the attention they need to garner help and guidance rather than shame or humiliation. September is National Suicide Awareness Month, with World Suicide Prevention Day falling on September 10. The more information we can put out there may help people like me who face suicidal ideation. (Note: This post contains a trigger warning.)
My schizoaffective suicidal thoughts used to really scare me. I was frightened to the point that I went to the emergency room three times because of them and was even hospitalized once. I was afraid I was actually going to hurt myself. But slowly, over the years, I realized that, as scary as the thoughts were, I wasn’t going to die by suicide. The evidence is that I have had these thoughts for decades. And instead of hurting myself, I took care of myself and have built up coping skills for dealing with my schizoaffective suicidal thoughts. (Note: This post contains a trigger warning.)
During a recent session with my therapist, I felt compelled to ask for her professional take on my relationship with exercise. I told her that I prioritize running over just about every other line item in my routine. I told her that I feel immense amounts of shame if I cannot squeeze in an hour-long workout on a daily basis. I told her that I consistently run in the 105-degree Arizona heat, no matter how miserable the experience is. I told her that I rarely feel like the choice to stop running is even an option. I told her that I am afraid that without exercise, I will lose control of my entire life. She listened to me rattle off all this information, then replied matter-of-factly: "You have an exercise addiction. How is it working for you?"
Throughout my life, I've had an internal dialog of thoughts that offers commentary on my daily life. Recently I've noticed that some of those thoughts can be negative. The negative thoughts occur when I feel that I've done something wrong. These thoughts could come after driving too aggressively, snapping at a friend, or being lazy. Today, I'd like to talk about how those negative thoughts can be damaging and how to accept negative thoughts with grace and build self-esteem at the same time.
I can't stop crying. It's because of personal loss and depression; I know this. But it seems that all the knowledge in the world doesn't help. It seems like I just manage to right the ship, and then I find myself in a pool of brackish water again. Not everyone with depression reacts this way, but I cry far more than my fair share. No matter what I do, I just can't stop crying.
I don't often plan these blog posts ahead of time. Normally, I just sit down a couple of hours before posting, open Docs, and have a think about what aspect of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) I'm going to write about that day.

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Comments

Christina
I hear your voices. Can you please help me let me know what medication you’re on. You could save lives with this information. My email is christinacrawford555@hotmail.com
Thanks!
R
I just relapsed on my chest after a year :/
J
This is me exactly. I've been working on my mental health for years and I still can't get ANYTHING right so I've come to the conclusion today that the only choice left is to give up. I QUIT!!!
Nowell
I was sicker than I'd ever been. Debating on going into the hospital. I wanted to find him. He was somewhere in the house, but I was to sick to look for him. I wanted a simple hug. I was relieved when I saw him passing me . I was about to ask him for that hug. I'd been sick for way to long. Six weeks. I just wasn't healing. He looked at me and said, " your such a piece of sh*t. Can't you even heal?" The next time I'm sick I may not pull through.
Amber T.
Slumber party! I am 14 and attended a slumber party last weekend with four other girls and the host girl who is a puberty bedwetter. She wears a thick cloth diaper and rubberpants to bed every night that are put on her by her mom.Later on on saturday night,her mom called all of us into her bedroom and told us that to level the playing field,that we all had to wear a diaper and rubberpants also.Sarah,the host girl,was put into her diaper and rubberpants first,then the rest of us were told to pick out a pair of her rubberpants from her drawer,then we each had to lay on Sarah's bed and her mom babypowdered us,pinned the diaper on us then put the rubberpants on us over the diaper.It was quite different having the diaper and rubberpants on under my nightgown! All six of us looked like babies with the diaper and rubberpants on under under our pjs and nightgowns! Sarah's mom was happy that all six of us were in the diapers and rubberpants and we got silly and acted like babies!