I wrote this for STMND when Fish of Gold put out a call for posts. We need to keep fighting the good fight, kids. Love to you all.
Please welcome Mental Mama from Mental In The Midwest with a story of fierce courage.
I’m one of the lucky ones. My self-destructive streak never achieved full steam in spite of my dual diagnoses of Bipolar Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. It wasn’t from a lack of trying, I assure you. But hard drugs scared me, pain pills do nothing for me, and booze just wound me up tighter. I experienced more than my share of mornings waking up next to a stranger, convinced he was The One, and then I’d spend the next week crying my eyes out because he never called. That’s when it would get really good and ugly. Rather than see their lack of compassion for what it really was – a reflection of their inhumanity, immaturity, and lack of a heart – I internalized the hurt and convinced myself that I was somehow lacking. I…
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