Joshua Cole.

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You are here: Home Category Blog S B's Story

S B's Story

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Ok life story here we go...


Ok you have you ever been told that some people are just born bad seeds? Well I thought I must have been one of those "lucky" ones... I know now, that it is not that we are born "bad seeds", but more the less, unfortunately raised by those who just may have not known what they were doing. Who would have known that one's life and thoughts could be so dramatically different from another? I remember asking myself when I was young, "why am I so different? Why did I get dealt the bad cards? Why is it, that nobody understands me?" I still ask those same questions and I have been me for 23 years. As I move slowly towards treatment I am starting to unfold this human I can finally call me. My life has consisted of many hardships and triumphs, but still some days I cannot explain the unimaginable void that plagues me.

Let me describe myself a little. I am diagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). I am a 23 year old female. I have 2 children. I am in college (law). Right now as I am typing this I feel alright with life, but who knows if that will be the same in lets say 10 minutes. I wanted to tell a story, explain the disease in simple terms, but I just don't know how. My life growing up started with me being born to a single, unwed 16 yr old. She wasn't going to keep me. They had it all worked out for me to placed for adoption, the day I was born my grandmother was told by the hospital staff, that my placement was black-market and that she would have to do the "exchange" off of hospital grounds. She was furious, to make a long story short, my mother decided to keep me, because at the time my grandmother was an alcoholic and she did not want her to raise me. So I don't remember a lot from early childhood. I know that I was moved around a lot from sitter to sitter so that my mom could go to school and work etc. I was sexually abused many times growing up buy multiple people, the worst was my great grandfather, I told my mom what was going on, but at the time I think she didn't want to admit it and told me to forget and forgive. So knowing that I would have to go back there time after time, it happened and I said nothing just letting it go on as my mother had advised me was the correct thing to do. I don't remember much or choose not to, but the one thing I remember is always getting anything I wanted from the store as a way to not tell anyone about this little "secret" So I think in life that has impacted my image of men. This I believe has been my problem throughout life, I have either let people get too close and take advantage of me or I would show no affection at all.

I was a troubled child always getting kicked out of school. I had behavioral issues in almost every aspect of my life and no authority figure to put me in my place. Anytime I was told what to do, I looked at that person and did what I wanted. My mom had broken my trust from as long as I remember, and I'm pretty sure it began the day I was born. I see now that many of my actions were a way to seek attention. No one could control me. I was violent, going into violent rages for no apparent reason and as a small child I could remember thinking terrible things when I would get angry. I had many friends, but only kept a few close. I could remember that I always wanted to be in control; I manipulated people and had no regard for anyone's feelings including my own. My mom then moved me to a smaller town in 6th grade, I hated her for that (which most kids would) I could remember the day we were packing and I started to unpack all of the boxes she came and yelled at me and kicked me over and over until, she wanted me to say I would repack them, in my eyes I would take the abuse anytime over doing what someone wanted me to do. So I eventually managed to get up and find my way to my bike, I rode to my friends house and said I would never go home, but I did of course. So we moved and life got worse, I did anything I could to be a bad kid, I grew up everyday hearing the person I was to call "mom" say she hated me, everybody hates me, why did I have to be born and why did my grandma ruin everything at the hospital. She would have me baby-sit my sister everyday morning and night, because she could not afford daycare. She would not come home from work most nights until 9 or 10pm. I had no life I had no summer vacations, I had nothing. But in a way I sort of felt responsible for my sister and wanted her never to face what I did. As much as I hated babysitting everyday, I did not abuse my sister or treat her badly. When my mom would send us to my grandma and grandpas I watched and protected her like a hawk hoping she would not be abused. By the time I was 12 I had been involved with the law for running away, drinking, drugs, assaults, arson and many, many other things. I was in treatment by 13 I went to about 6 or 7 different facilities. Just before I turned 14 I came back home, I thought things would be good between my mom and I, although she still hated me, because by now she had lost her house and almost everything she owned "because of my behaviors and selfishness". I had no friends by the time I came back, everyone was so different and all hated me because of the things I had done to them when I would get angry.

I started at the regular high school and things seemed to be going alright for me, I found a new boyfriend and focused my life around him. A few months later he broke up with me, I went back into depression attempted to kill myself, got back into drugs and alcohol and back into my patterns. I left that school and went back into the alternative school. I was extremely promiscuous and always felt like if they didn't treat me the right way, or give me something; it was like I felt they owed me things for sleeping with them. (A behavior I now contribute to the sexual abuse). I was pregnant at 14 and a mother at 16. I was kicked out of my house and because my probation officer told my mom it was illegal to kick me out, moved back in. We did nothing but fight, over and over. My baby was born and we moved out when I was 16. When I was 4 months pregnant I started dating J. He was my everything or so I thought. It all started as small put downs to lower my self esteem, he worked on me for a while and pretty soon had a pretty strong hold on my self image. I hated myself and he would tell me over and over if I ever left him that I would be sure to end up alone or dead. It didn't matter I loved this man. He was constantly in and out of jail. Early on he was never physically abusive but it slowly grew and grew. By the time I was 18 I was pregnant with my son D, J and I had broken up and gotten back together probably 100 times by now and his abuse was more violent now. The police would make visits and I would lie to them because I feared what might happen if I didn't. He was stabbed in Jan 2000. I had hoped he would die; they were giving him his last rights when I arrived, but like always he survived. The abuse was worse and worse. D was born and the abuse seemed to subside. J ended up going to jail for about a year.

During that time, I was happy and then I turned to drugs. I did ecstasy for about 7 month's straight everyday, all day. I had people convinced it was therapeutic for me and that it was a good thing. If you have ever taken ecstasy you're probably asking how she lived on that. Simple it provided me with happiness and although there were many negative side effects nothing was better than feeling happy. I quit and never have been the same. When J got out we got back together and the abuse got worse and worse. I couldn't hide it from people now, because he didn't care where he left the marks now. During this time I had seeked counseling for anger mgmt because I figured it was my fault went and saw a therapist at a clinic where I spent many of my juvenile years after a few sessions and tests, I was told that he couldn't treat me and that I would need to see someone who specializes more in personality disorders. I was told BPD and just never really understood what he was trying to say I had, but as far as I new, it was someone I had put trust into and they were giving up on me too. So I just never did anything with the diagnoses after that. I eventually ended up in the hospital and J and I haven't been together since. I recently started investigating BPD and what it was. After reading up on it and hearing examples from other people, I was shocked. OMG there are people out there who see things the way I do. Exaggerated, paranoid, impossible images and thoughts, everyday of my life I woke up and hated myself wondering when it would finally be my turn to die. Never understanding why I just couldn't make friends, taking everything so personally and not doing normal life activities. The paranoia I felt was like an uncontrollable monster keeping me back from finding me, knowing me.

I don't think I ever loved myself or even knew who I may have been. In the last year my life has spun around, I went on a road trip that changed my life, left the man who abused me for 6 years, was laid off from my job (the job I thought I would be at forever), started back at school, regained some of my dignity through it all, I finally can look into the mirror and see who is looking back, I finally for once in my life love and care about myself. I am learning to teach my children what affection is and really learning about my little wonders that I created. Everyday is an up hill struggle, trying to find the correct DBT group. I still just do not fit in and who knows maybe I never will, but at least I know that finally knowing that this disorder has a name, I feel like my life is finally just beginning.


S B

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 19 August 2009 18:14 )  

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