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We all experience cycles or patterns of behavior that we want to change. Those of us who have experienced binge eating disorder (BED), or eating disorders in general, know the pain and frustration that is felt when you are trapped in a cycle of disordered, destructive eating. It is especially frustrating when you try to recover and leave behind your old cycles and patterns and you realize you're still stuck in a binge eating cycle.
I didn't get a say in my birth. My mother and father took the executive decision to procreate without my input, and I landed on the scene in the April of 1985 before I could register any objections. Upon my arrival, the doctors deduced a few things: I was a boy. I was healthy. And, given the amount of wailing and thrashing, I appeared mildly inconvenienced by this whole birth scenario. For nearly 32 years after that, the doctors didn't miss much--except to diagnose me with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).
Before I knew anything about borderline personality disorder (BPD) or antidepressants, I knew that pharmaceutical drugs were bad. Or, at least that's what I was told growing up. I learned from a young age not to trust therapists or doctors. Doctors wanted to poison your body, and therapists wanted to poison your mind. Why would I think that? Well, because then it would be easier for them to control you.
Something I have found about having chronic anxiety is that this often leads to avoiding triggers, which includes avoiding conflict. For example, you might find it difficult to set boundaries in a relationship, or you might find that you've been putting off having a difficult conversation with your supervisor at work. For me, this might look like walking away from arguments or being as diplomatic as possible in an interaction with someone to avoid some sort of conflict.
Many individuals are familiar with the fight, flight, freeze, or appease response to trauma. However, one thing I have learned after years of exposure to verbal abuse is that this automatic response can lead to detrimental procrastination in other areas of my life. 
I'll admit, it's difficult sometimes to separate a discussion of mental health from a discussion of race. It's difficult to separate a discussion of anything from a discussion of race, for that matter. During my mental health journey, while adapting to the nuances of navigating my illness, it was not lost on me that race itself was another nuance to navigate. This is just one example of a very long list of factors that felt completely out of my control. Although difficult to accept, realizing that I couldn't fix everything opened me up to more healing and more peace throughout my mental health journey. I realized I didn't have to feel guilty for compartmentalizing race and my mental health. This can be applied to any factor that may feel out of your control and cause added strain on your pursuit of mental wellness. It's okay to let go and prioritize yourself.
It's important, for a variety of reasons, to keep in touch with the events of the world around you. But what do you do when the news triggers your self-harm urges?
It's been over a year since I said goodbye to my sweet pup, Cannelle, a cocker spaniel. I adopted her when she was 18 months old and was blessed to have her by my side for 13 years. Throughout that time, Cannelle helped me in ways that she, of course, could not comprehend. My pup helped me through bouts of mental illness, among other things.
July 12, 2022, was when my life changed forever. On this day, I got diagnosed with double depression, and I have been unable to come to terms with it. Even though I suspected it for a while, I don't know how to accept this as my reality. And I know it will be many moons before I do so.
I tell myself that I write about borderline personality disorder (BPD) because I want to help others struggling with BPD and crisis, among other things. But, if I'm truly being honest here, I'm not writing to others — I'm writing to a former me. I'm writing to the me who spent hours Googling my behavior looking for answers. I'm writing to the me desperately seeking relief from my inner torment. I'm writing to a me I assume is long gone. This time, however, I want to write to a different me. This time, I want to write to the me that thinks she made it to the other side. I want to write to the me who pretends to have some kind of authority on getting through BPD. This time I want to write to today's me.

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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!