Every day. All day. For years now. There has been a battle raging in my mind. It’s exhausting. And I’m losing.
On one side, there’s rationality. It sees what is happening and is trying, desperately, to stop the illness. On the other side is my illness: borderline personality disorder. It makes me hate myself so much that I intentionally hurt myself with the ultimate goal of destroying myself completely. I cut. I burn. I starve. I am promiscuous. I abuse drugs. I make suicide attempts. Anything to push me closer to death.
Rationality suffered a serious blow this evening. In the past, it’s always been able to bounce back. But, this time, I’m not so sure.
A friend of mine died of brain cancer a couple of months back. I felt awful for him. He didn’t deserve it. I was also jealous. Why can’t I get cancer or AIDS or some other fatal disease (not that anorexia can’t be fatal)? I have a stigma against mental illness, even as I suffer from it. It makes me feel that my death, while just as final, should have been more preventable.
Who knows? Tomorrow, these thoughts and feelings may have passed. For now, I’m done. I’m tired of fighting and have given up.
I’ve thought about quitting my job. I have enough saved up that I could probably make it 8-10 months. That would probably be enough. I seriously doubt I will live that long. On the off chance I do, I just need to make sure I’ve got a few bucks left at the end for a bottle of Tylenol, so I can finish things off.