At the present moment, my personality disorder is at bay and I am doing well to practice the tools I have learned to actually get better instead of drowning in one of the many self-harm grounding techniques, as before. I am at such a point that I mentioned to my therapist I feel something is off and I don’t understand. She smiled largely and explained, “That is what you want and you are getting better. When you are actively working at improvement and the feeling of ‘what might go wrong’ comes around, it indicates change, the kind of change you are not used to.”

I am embracing it and continuing with the tools to create them as habits and let go of the old self-harming techniques. I haven’t drank or had a bulimic episode in 23 days. 1 Nov marked the last time I saw my best friend as he moved to another state for freedom from his disease as it is affected with the weather. He didn’t abandon me as I see now, yet we communicate and he is still in my life, only on a screen rather than a few miles away.

My disorder is such that I can actively think of a past moment and literally recreate the identical feelings as if I were in it again and disassociate. As I type this, I have the same feeling of a knot in my stomach as when I pulled away from his home on 1 Nov. It is the same knot I have felt each time someone has left or even died, for that matter. Those few seconds are over now and I am smiling because I can finally correlate it isn’t real and I am here explaining it in front of my computer without fear.

I was capable of extreme lows of the kind where I would binge drink a 12 pack of beer or a pint of vodka and pass out, not only drowning out the negative, but drowning out the positive as well. I was capable of being in a mental whirlwind and not even realizing I would pick up the phone and order $40-$50 of pizza and desserts, then binge to the point I would barely breathe and stick my finger down my throat to gain control of myself. I was capable of getting on the internet and surfing dating sites to find what seemed like the most reckless and dangerous man and create an abusive relationship with that would give me the satisfaction of a victim and torment which I have thought I was only deserving of. I was capable of staring into the mirror during an episode and not recognizing the person I was, then cutting on the inside of my legs to feel the pain that freed my mind. I was capable of finding illicit drugs and my go to, cocaine, and using so much I feared my heart would explode, then spending the next few days without food coming down in complete misery.

All those things I have done and they are becoming my past.

My present is a person who feels love. Love from my pet, love from the friends I still have, love from nature, and love from the universe which I am deeming in far more control than I.

I AM

I am Beauty.

I am Confident.

I am Prosperous.

I am Trusting.

I am Healthy.

I am Whole.

I am Joy.

I am Laughter.

I am Creative.

I am a Yogi.

I am Safe.

I am Peaceful.

I am Grateful.

I am Sober.

I am Willing.

I am the Universe.

I am Strong.

I AM

I may have wrote on this topic before and here it is again. Social media is such a big no-no for me at this point. I compare, attach to words I read, take them personally, and lastly, I become convinced it is a reality which, even for people without BPD, this can be a perception. Social media is a technological platform where people can sit behind a screen and be anyone they want to be for others to view on other sides of the screen and join into the unreality with them. It is a place where so many ‘likes’ create a sense of attention from others, even strangers which is kind of creepy to me at this point. It is an outlet for some people to vent, which I learned a big lesson to not do several times. A place to communicate for the sole reason of attention and don’t get me started on selfies people post. I am far from Narcissist so that baffles me when every day, someone would post a selfie and maybe they wore a different eyeshadow that the prior day so, “look at me world…my eyes are purple today, not pink.”

In the past year, I have noticed my morning routine consisted of picking up the phone or computer and going directly to FB, posting 5 things I was thankful for and then some optimistic Buddhist quote to begin my day. I would then scroll and read so much negative and angry banter between people that I began to question what kind of world I actually live in. I permanently deleted my FB on September 29, 2019 along with Instagram. I was never really a Twitter follower and while my account may still be active, I can’t imagine reading there as Don Drumph seems to overpower that for his own idiotic attention seeking, bullying, name calling agendas that most people who never grew up participate in.

I did however get back on Redditt a week ago because I began to feel slightly unattached as my real world communication is low and lacks of close personal friends. I tired to make a vow to myself to not ever downvote a statement, debate with anyone or post anything for that matter, but just to read what others are doing or their opinions on things I could never ask about on platforms where others knew who I was. I refuse to tell casual acquaintances I suffer with BPD, ED, PTSD from sexual trauma, combat from my military experience and disassociation among other things. I barely tell those close to me, just my therapist I see weekly.

As you can possibly guess, I broke my vows. I began upvoting anything I liked and ignoring the negative, then a few days later, I began downvoting the things I didn’t like and I noticed I felt like it was a jab at someone’s comment I didn’t approve of. I finally decided to post something and see what became of it. Of course as many other’s experience, a troll came to whisk away the optimism and positive support most people in the subs offer. I went back and forth even when the troll mocked me and then began reporting them for harassment. I became so worked up that there was a moment where I told myself, I was not going to look at my phone for the rest of the day and put it on the counter. I couldn’t make it 5 minutes without looking and finally I walked out of my door to begin to sort out my feelings and there it was for me…I was allowing a social media platform and complete stranger to have way to much of my energy, furthermore, I didn’t need to give it any of my energy. Unfortunately, with BPD, attachment is something hard to overcome. I went back home and permanently deleted my account without reading anything on it. I realized there was no place for me in that world and to maintain my health and sanity, I am better committing to my true surrounds and our wordpress to share and hope my wordpress reaches anyone else who struggles.

Peace and Love to all.

I have been working very hard and diligently at improving my capabilities and letting go of the mind-set that I am only capable of so much and accepting the disabilities. In the past 2 weeks, I began treating my body and mind as if it is a child of the Universe and preparing for the purpose I am intended of instead of settling for ‘less than.’

November 1, 2019, I had my last sip of alcohol and last binge and purge. I became enlightened and began to apply myself to overcome the many things I thought I was sick with. I have been hurting my body by practically pouring ethanol down my throat and then ordering family sizes of food, binging for the pleasure and to avoid the consequences, purging. It became apparent to me that I had very little self-love and wasn’t seeking to live very much. I have been active in the grasp of Bulimia for 26 years and that night, as I felt the booze and food come up into my mouth full of acid without me doing anything, I realized I was killing myself.

I had become so out of control, my memory was leaving and I wasn’t being cautious with people around me by using boundaries and compassionate talk as well.

I began to use visualizations imagining myself happy and fulfilled and I actually began getting back out into the world and have been spending time with a dear elderly friend helping her with things she has difficulties doing like cleaning or reaching things up high. I help with grocery shopping or deliveries and best of all, we keep each other company.

Sundays, I take my dog to her house and we watch NFL football together. I had no idea she loves it too. When she speaks to me, I learn how to speak kindly, be loving and contain myself through her example. I am finally beginning to connect again.

I have no desires any longer to be in places where alcohol is consumed or around people who abuse drugs, not even communicate with those I understand to do as such. This meant leting go of a friend of 20 years, and while it is sort of saddening, I am better off. I even stopped using cannabis to avoid feelings and now use CBD oil so I find relief without being high and ignoring.

I have been rebuilding my digestive track and esophogas with the foods intended to create good gut health: sauerkraut, anything else fermented, bone broths from chicken, brussel spouts, string beans, pumpkin seeds and sunflower seeds, braggs apple cidar, olive oil, coconut oil, kombucha, green tea, ginger and several other healthy things. NO PROCESSED food of any kind, no gluten, no soy, no sugar, not even fruits, supplements galore to help and best of all, it was discovered I am highly allergic to peanuts which has ben creating the reaction I have suffered with for almost a year. CYA peanuts…no matter how much my pallet liked you, we aren’t down for what our body went through with you.

Through these disciplined processes I have been successfully navigating and I survived my first situation of severe feelings of abandonment and didn’t do anything to hurt myself, instead I comforted and loved myself. It was the most grueling thing I have encomapssed being completely sober. When I say sober, that includes any kind of prescribed medication as well. My best friend is ill with an odd disease and he chose to live in two places, Arizona for the winters and here for the summers which will help him survive his disease better. Even though our technology is so fluent at this point, when I saw his home with boxes packed up, the exact feelings I knew so well from the times I was moved between my parents over and over, the times I had to travel and leave people during my military service, the times I lost a loved one or friend through death, the times I lost a relationship or a man left me. It was so familiar and my default for as long as I can remember was to act out and drown out the horror my mind created with, drinking, drugging, taking extra benzos or opiods, cutting, binging and purging, arguing with anyone to push them away and be vindictive making it seem there fault.

I spent the first few days after he left in utter depression because my mind had led me to believe I would never see him again and that I was being punished for not being good enough and doing something wrong. I came to understand over those few days that several years ago when I had no control, that scenario played out several times even though I had done nothing wrong to be abandoned. I had 2 parents who were doing the best with whatever tools they knew. I realized I am not that little helpless girl anymore. I am the beautiful woman who is accepting of when people move to new beginnings and I also came to understand he isn’t gone forever nor will we stop communicating with our technology.

I made it through what I consider the hardest scenario without reacting and I feel I have created a trend that I will continue to follow through my life which leads me to let go of the self harming measures. Over the past 2 weeks, I have found new confidence, my energy is finally coming back naturally, I smile often because life has become so beautiful to me. I wake each day and thank the Universe for waking, then I actually apply myself to the many things I have learned to help myself. I run, do yoga, take care of my dog and play with her just because. I have noticed I am not doing these things because I feel like I have to in order to survive, I am doing them because I want to and I love to. I am becoming the woman I am meant to be.

As for my best friend in Arizona, we spend time on the phone together watching shows and sharing about our daily happenings. It is just like he were here only I can’t dive a few miles down the road to hug him. I am thankful I get to love him and be his friend.

All my Love and Peace to anyone who needs it and thanks to those who have radiated it out into the world for me to share as well.

I began struggling with Bulimia in 2003. I had exceeded the weight requirements for my position in the military and to boot, physical fitness became equal across the board due to the invasion of Iraq and the probability of all forces going to play war on the ground in dangerous places. It only made sense to match the fitness levels for what we would endure.

Prior to 2003, the Air Force only required an ergonometric test that measured our BPM. It was easy to pass and even I did it when I used to smoke around 1/2 to a whole pack of cigarettes a day. One just needed to focus and keep their breathing as slow as possible and pedal on a stationary bike. I thought the test was stupid to say the least and I don’t now much about the history either, so that is that.

We were given 6 months to prepare for our new endurance tests and so I began training to run. We had to meet 3 times a week to run together and help each other as a flight and it consisted of anywhere from 30-50 people at a time. I was maybe one of the 5 slowest with my mile and a half at 27:52 the first time. I think my time somewhere to maintain for the entire run was maxed out at 17 minutes. There was a weird calculation of BMI, Time, and the crunches and pushup scores. Needless to say, for my first fucking run, I SUCKED!!!

I began running every day after work and doing crunches and pushups every morning and every night like clockwork. After my run in the evening, I always sat down to enjoy a meal. Because of my weight in the 180’s at the time, I exceeded my BMI and had to drop weight. I was asked out loud once a week in front of our flight by supervision how I was doing with losing weight and each time because I hadn’t hit my score and weight goal they made for me, I was told if I didn’t make it, I would be on the “Fat Boy Program.” If one didn’t pass the fat boy program after 2 tries, they were discharged from their service, so the threat was officially up in the air. My job was on the line.

I decided to try the Atkins diet which was a big rave of quick weight loss at the time. Nothing over 20 g net carbs each day. I didn’t think about vitamins and nutrients and ate mostly cheese, meat, maybe a salad here and there with no dressing or a tomato with my meat as a treat. I distinctly remember the evening I sat down with a rare cooked T-bone and sliced tomato, staring at my plate and realizing how pissed off I felt because I was giving up on the foods I had been living off of for the past 6 years. Memories consisted of starting the day with a cappuccino with whatever rich flavored syrup was the latest craze and food was a some kind of biscuit with sausage, cheese and egg available at the shopette and usually with another coffee. Burger King every day for lunch, always onion rings with whatever sandwich. And then in the evening, any restaurant in the local area and any kind of rich filling meal I could find. I would dare to say, with no exercise I was putting away over 2500 + calories on a given day, so it makes sense as to why I gained so much weight. Memory after memory of parties and cake and ice cream, macaroni and cheese with hotdogs sliced up in them or tuna, fried bologna because I was usually by myself with only bologna in the fridge growing up, crackers with my tomato soup, Reese peanut butter cups, oatmeal cookies, McDonalds, rarely vegetables and fruit. It was like an apocalypse was happening in my mind! I devoured the steak and tomato angrily and started scouring my cabinets where I found cereal and some oatmeal granola bars. I went to the nearest convenience store and bought a half gallon of milk to go with my cereal. Back to my apartment I went and I ate bowl after bowl of cereal and milk until the box was gone. Next I piled the unwrapped oatmeal granola bars on a plate and poured a glass of milk in the largest glass I could find and devoured those as well. When I ate, I became primal like a switch flipped inside of me that indicated I had to survive and I didn’t even taste the food I inhaled.

I didn’t feel real and felt like something had taken over or possessed me. I understand that now as impulsivity. When I came to and realized what I had done, I felt miserable mentally and physically. I felt ashamed that I just ate that much food and that I lost control of myself. I felt sick to my stomach due to being so full and afraid of what I had just done to my body. I went just as simple as anything into the bathroom, lifted the lid on the toilet and stuck my finger down my throat as far as I could until the food came back up into the toilet. After it appeared most of what I ate was in the toilet, I flushed it and felt relief finally.

I love days where I am actively being involved in self-care and using the tools I have acquired through 21 years of therapy and the BPD diagnoisis in 2008. Today is one of those days. Everything is fitting together and I am appreciating life more and being in the present with awareness.

I began by taking my dog out and driving to our favorite coffee stop for my custom fitted proper made coffee and my pooch a puppacino. It is her version of treat with whip cream and a bone on top in a little cup where she gets to fish everything out. The baristas are so nice and chatty and they know my pup’s name and talk to her.

Next, home to take in some news, take my medicine which is only cannabis and have my coffee while everything kicks in. I have treated with cannabis for 9 years and it is the thing that works with the least side-effects. I am peculiar that I know the name of and understood strains. I have 2, indica and sativa and use them respectfully; sativa for the day to relieve anxiety, hyperactivity, hypersensitivity, alcohol cravings, anti-social behavior, pain and to help be present. The Indica in the evenings to relieve pain and help me sleep or at least fall asleep. Once a month, I will go 1-5 days without it and I can 100% tell the difference. It is my medicine.

I also have 3 journals for tools and today I wrote in all three. The first one is a list of things I am grateful for. I find gratitude picks my spirit up far quicker than anything else and if we have a roof over our heads and food, we really have a lot more than some others. For gratitude, I get outside the ‘obvious’ box and I search for things I take for granted. The rule of thumb is, I must come up with at least 5 and today’s were: squirrels that give my dog so much attention and keep her busy, the warm flannel my friend gave me to wear, my apple watch to count my steps, vulgarity for expression, and patience.

My second journal is my ‘prayer book’. When I say God, I am not referring to a man with a silver beard in the sky, instead the universe and things that man can not have control over. My simplified ‘God’ is whoever or whatever makes the tide go in and out, simple as that. I write down my prayers and try to push out at least 2-3 pages. I try not to pray for wants unless it is for my health or to sustain my dog and I in the world. I pray for whatever comes to mind. I always pray to be free of suffering, that those who have hurt me be free of suffering and that all beings be free of suffering. I connect my laws of attraction to my hand and what I put out, I pray to get back. I am not sure how the world comes to answer things I pray for or about, but I just keep on doing it because it seems to have a sort of freeing, letting go effect.

My 3rd journal is a journal of important things I read about in the current Eckhardt Tolle book, which is The Power of Now. Today’s reading was about being present and letting go of psychological time. It expressed that the world of form is about gain and loss and if we can already see that we are complete, we can be free from the gain and loss feelings. We can have a joy behind everything we do instead of being in the future for fear of failure.

I have many other journals I bounce back and forth from and my blog is one. If it reaches at least one person, which I see it does, then I have shared about something that can be very difficult and tricky to live with and maybe it helped another have something positive to take from it and use.

The most amazing tool in my shed for the many years I have spent is meditating and being present which has brought me to the point of being aware. I am aware what depression, hopelessness, anger, fear, paranoia, sorrow, insecurity and many other feelings feel like. With this awakening, I don’t have to act on the suffering and can just sit and observe it while understanding that it will pass. I am currently tying the feeling in with places around my body which is bringing a whole new sense of action to help myself. That is for another day.

These are some of the different ways I use to relieve the negative effects of BPD and I hope they can help someone else. May you have peace, love and happiness in your life.

I am learning to prioritize what I give a fuck about and let the rest of the fucks go. I have held on to giving a fuck about so many things that didn’t have anything to do with me. I have also held on to giving a fuck about many things that may have pertained to me, yet they are gone and in the past. For all those thing, fuck you.

I woke at 0300 with anger and that is not a good sign for me, but I am working hard to change it currently before it takes over and that my friends is called, CBT, practicing awareness and changing the reference of thinking, or using consciousness to guide, not the the sub-conscious.

When I woke, I became aware of conversations in my mind I was having where I rehashed context from previous conversations and changed around the words to be very defensive and leaving my non-present opponent feeling less than with and, “I told you so” way. This is one of the ways my disorder rears its ugly head and if I don’t do something to stop it and get back to me, I get mind fucked; speaking of fucks.

Ahhh…there is a fuck to give, having a decent attitude so I have a decent or more day. For all those conversations in my mind, I don’t give a fuck. For my day, my dog, and my surroundings, I give a fuck.

May you be free of giving a fuck.

I am.

I am not BPD. I suffer with symptoms of the disorder.

I am not overly-sensitive. I am extremely perceptive and attuned to my surroundings.

I am not a black and white thinker. I have tendencies to use black and white thinking for some things.

I am not unstable. I have moments where I am triggered by certain things and suffer temporarily.

I am not self-destructive. I have episodes where my value feels decreased and I have a hard time loving myself.

I am not alone. I can open the door to my home and step out where others are.

I am not crazy. No one is crazy…some of us have behaviors that are different and don’t equate with what is considered normal.

I am not unlovable. Due to difficulties with my understanding of relationships, I need boundaries and help with awareness.

I am not impossible to improve. I choose to become aware and change my actions to get better.

I am in love with what I share with the world when I can.

I am beautiful as all of us are in different ways.

I am worthy of the universe.

I am grateful for what I have and those who care for me.

I am caring as I offer help when I can to others even if it is an ear to listen.

I am youthful as I am stuck where I am the child who was abandoned. It is a promotion for excitement over small things now and I giggle a lot.

I am curious and willing to try new things.

I am love.

I am.

One of our famous symptoms with BPD is having identity issues and confusion about who we are and our value in this world. I have tried several different identities and I am definitely on the brink of another which I hope is a more gentle and loving person.

With each trauma and crisis, I have the defense mechanism of retreating and recreating myself somehow. I am pretty sure this is confusing to others as I purposely alter my appearance as to assume a new attitude with my reflection and try AGAIN to prosper in the world.

I am just now becoming aware this pattern is part of a healing process. Today is almost a week since the memories of being raped came back to me and now I understand, possibly why I have become some of the characters I chose. The particular one I can refer to is whore. This term in most cases means a derogatory name for a woman who has had many partners. For me, this became a provocative woman who seduced many men.

I am still in a place to where I don’t understand the difference in the girl being raped in the bathroom to the person I am currently sitting in my frumpy flannel in front of a few screens. I feel like the next person I want to be is a care-free hippie like person who is a creature of the earth.

I found in the past year or so that changing my hair color frequently helped me act out and it created a sense of balance which each new change. I felt beautiful each time I did it. Another part of me wants to grow my hair out and be 100% natural so I don’t have to rearrange a budget to accommodate high-maintenance me.

The person I don’t want to be is one who attracts attention from men. I shouldn’t be afraid of the attention and the bigger question is how to work through this process and become unafraid. I shouldn’t be afraid to express my sexuality and I shouldn’t be afraid to be desired. I should be afraid of using my sexuality to punish men. That is what I have come to do over the past 14 years. I become the woman who sees any man I become involved with as one of the men in the bathroom who took my identity while raping me.

It is good that I have my weekly therapist appointment this morning. I obviously have a lot to talk about. I am pretty choked up and confused right now so in closing, may you all be safe from harm, may you all be free of suffering, and may you feel peace and love in the universe.

I am fortunate that I have had years of practice in therapy, CBT classes, DBT classes and practice Buddhism to become aware when it comes to my actions, speech and intent. I am finally to the point where I don’t act out toward others and project much. I act out alone and this is when I am in danger of self-harm. The more I replace the harmful behaviors with the healthy ones, the better life is. This comes with a downside in that I can’t be around others much and I feel lonely from time to time.

I tried to hang out with a friend I have known for a year or so and unfortunately, she doesn’t understand how dangerous it is to compare ourselves to others and how harmful all or nothing language is. We are both combat veterans and have suffered several traumas. I have just become vocal after 14 years about being raped during my service. The furthest I got was acknowledging I was raped out loud to a few others. I blocked out a lot of it and this past weekend when she made some comments, I was triggered and the memories came back like I was in that moment again.

My friend had been drinking (big first no, no) and she said, “All women have been raped!” At first, I couldn’t figure out what was her intent for the statement and excitement. I just stopped and stared as she told me her husband had raped her several times. Everything around me began to seem like it was in slow motion. She kept talking and I disassociated.

14 years ago, I went through a phase in the military where I lost a lot of weight and became very healthy with minimal fat and a lot of muscle. A girl I worked with mocked me a lot because I wore baggy t-shirts and jeans all the time as they were comfortable and I wasn’t trying to impress others at the time. She said I was beautiful and I should show my body off and wear things that were fitting. I felt hurt and unaccepted, so off I went to have her help me shop and wear things that were more becoming. I wound up looking like her twin; tight short shorts, tight baby doll t-shirts where there was no room for the imagination when it came to what was under my clothes.

She began taking me out drinking and to concerts. I got more attention than I imagined with the skimpy clothes and when I drank it was like social lubricant so after a divorce and abortion I was finally finding the courage to acknowledge men again. I began dating a guy in my same flight and he invited me to a party with some of his co-workers. We were drinking and I remember people around a bon-fire in a field back of a house. I didn’t know anyone else at the party, so I tried to make friends and talk some. I noticed many people were sneaking off to use the bathroom in the field away from the fire and I left on a trail for the house and a normal toilet. I remember walking in the house not finding a bath downstairs and wound upstairs. I found a bathroom and as I turned on the light, I felt someone come up behind me and both of my arms jerked behind my back, then something shoved in my mouth. I was shoved into the bathroom and face first into a sink. I felt my skirt jerked up and heard another voice that sounded like a growl, “hold her.” As I tried to scream and fight, I could taste fabric in my mouth and feel saliva coming out of the sides. I felt arms being pulled in several directions and the cold sink against my forehead and chin. Each time I tried to raise my head, I hit the faucet and it felt like it was cutting into my scalp. I felt my legs forced apart and was raped over and over. I remember my body giving out at one point, my mind going numb and hearing laughter. The next memory I have was put into a cab by my date and him giving direction to my home. I don’t remember getting into my home and nothing else until I woke the next day. I had bruises all over my back and arms, what looked like teeth marks on my shoulder and my vagina felt like it had been anhialated. I got in the shower and turned on the hot water and nothing, nothing in the world could wash off what I went through the night before.

Yes, those sick fucks who took advantage of me are fucking horrible. I am finally able to remember and acknowledge I am in the present and not that moment, which is relief. I am ashamed that I wore those kind of clothes that attracted that kind of attention. I am embarrassed I didn’t stand up to the girl who mocked me about my appearance. I obviously had respect for my body and didn’t need to show it off for attention. What kind of fucking world do we live in if we can’t own our own sexuality?

I didn’t move much the day after. It was a Sunday and I slept mostly until I went into work the following morning. I stood for the morning meeting and then went out back to smoke by myself. My boss followed me, for I assumed becuase I was quiet, which wasn’t my norm. She asked me what was wrong, and I said point blank. “I was raped at a party and I need help.” She questioned me, “Are you sure?” I just stared at her blankly because what the fuck kind of question was that? She left me there and said she would get back with me later. She never did and everything in my life was in slow motion.

I ignored as many people as possible that week and worked to forget. I volunteered to work outside of my section in an opening painting because I was afraid of others. I also ignored the man I had dated and he showed up unannounced to my home where he found me bleeding out from my wrist on my dining room floor the following Sunday. I woke later in an ER with stitches in my wrist being consoled by a military chaplain. I sliced my wrist for the first time and I wanted to die. I was then taken to a mental health ward where I spent 7 days, my birthday being one of them. The following week after returning to work from the hospital, a First Sergeant and personal liaison between our service and personal life scheduled an appointment with me and suggested for me to apply for orders and let her know after I did as she would help me get to where I wanted.

I will never know if my boss told anyone or what transpired behind closed doors in conversation. I applied to go to Korea for a year the following day and a week later, received orders to move. I was swept under the rug like a dirty fucking secret and lost faith in the most of humanity. For the past 14 years, until this past weekend, all I have been able to remember was turquoise bath mats and how my body looked and felt when I woke up. I call me being able to write about this and recollect PROGRESS!

So, my friend who said, “all women are raped,” was maybe just trying to connect with me on some kind of level. I am sympathetic to her circumstance, but can’t really compare nor would I ever want to. I hope my friend gets help from her incidents and that no one should ever have to endure such violation.

Today marks a great moment in healing for me and I hope others can be brave enough to tell their story. I hope when they ask for help that they will not be turned away. I have come to understand suffering with BDP may have become for me from abandonment in earlier childhood, but the moment I was raped, I split and became a different person. I can never get that other person back, but I can share my experiences without fear anymore.

May you be free of suffering and present in your moments. May you love yourself enough to take care of yourself. May you have peace and happiness.