People often define borderline personality disorder by the ferocity of emotions felt by those who suffer. These emotions are what get the attention, but there’s another side to BPD that’s invisible to most.
My normal isn’t like yours. I am empty on a regular basis. The emotional mood swings are a sharp reminder that when it’s over I’ll be hollow again. It’s difficult to describe being vacant, I guess because I’ve never felt whole. I don’t know what it’s like for others, who feel things, have a sense of who they are, what they feel, what they should be. I don’t have that. Sometimes I question if I’m even really inside my body. I’m on autopilot a good amount of the time, no one notices. My brain sends signals to my hands and my mouth and my eyes.
Look interested here. Laugh here. Hold hands here. My mind is off somewhere else. I’ve long felt that my mind and my body are separate entities, only working together because by some mistake they were placed jointly. They don’t always see eye to eye. My mind is a free spirit, it wants to escape, wants to fly the coop and see the world. It wants to switch from one life to another over and over, it wants to take drugs and feel nothing, it wants to explore dark alleys and cause people pain. My body wants to stay grounded, it wants to appear normal, it keeps up the facade that there’s nothing strange going on.
Keep moving, nothing to see here. We’re just like you are.