. . . By this point, my main diagnosis was Major Depressive Disorder with psychotic features. New diagnoses were thrown at me with every new psychiatrist I got.
Freshman year I got another new psychiatrist and therapist combo. I was slowly weaned off any medication only to be put back on it after things got too rocky a quarter of the way through my sophomore year.
January of 2012 saw me into a residential program in Belmont, Massachusetts. Another psychiatrist. Another therapist. Taken off medication again. It was there that I was first seriously introduced to Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and the possibility of having Borderline Personality Disorder. BPD seemed to fit a lot of my struggles when my PTSD symptoms were taken out of the equation. The type of therapy that this particular treatment center specialized in was and still is a huge part of my coping skill set. . .
The trick about having diagnoses is in separating yourself from them. It’s tough, especially with BPD. Even the name seems to imply negative things about me as a person. It’s a personality disorder. Does that mean my personality is disordered? Am I simply existing wrong? The answer is no. There is a lot more to my existence than mental illness, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I am not defined by my problems or sicknesses. No one is. It took a long time for me to realize that.
Read the rest of the story by visiting Blog for Mental Health 2014 – From the Inside | Accept The Bullshit.
Trigger Warning: Image of self-harm, talk of self-harm, sexual abuse, suicide