A Thing I Wrote To Have Written A Thing

I’ve been saying that I was going to post something here for almost three months now, and then never quite getting round to sitting down and actually writing anything. So, I’ve decided, as I have an unexpected afternoon off, to just post a, well, post, so that I’ve finally done what I said I was going to do, and started the process of getting back into the habit of blogging again.

Then I can worry about writing something coherent and worth reading for my next post.

It’s not that I don’t want to write, I do, I’ve missed it. It just feels a bit awkward to come back to after more than a year’s absence.

I stopped blogging mostly on purpose. I was poorly, and busy, and miserable, and overwhelmed, and something, lots of things, had to give, and one of those things was blogging.

It was a decision made easier because I wasn’t sure exactly what I was trying to say anymore. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. In addition to all the other things. And took me a long time to process that one.

Being diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and post traumatic stress disorder came as something of a relief to me. It meant that there were things that were wrong with me, things that could presumably be fixed. Until that point I’d spent years believing that I was the thing that was wrong and that this couldn’t be fixed.

Being told that I had borderline personality disorder, a personality disorder, that my personality was disordered, undid a lot of that relief for quite some time. It sounded to me as though if we were blaming my illness on my disordered personality we were back to saying that I was the thing that was wrong.

Which seemed contrary to the people with mental illnesses are just people with illnesses message that I’d started writing to convey. So I wasn’t sure what I had to say anymore, and whether anything I might say could be of any use to anybody else.

I don’t quite feel that way anymore. I’ve had some therapy, read some books (about 157 of them so far this year, mostly about psychology, culture, gender, and sexuality), changed my medication again, and managed to create a bit more stability in my personal circumstances. It’s still a work in progress but I’m feeling a lot better about the idea of my illness.

I’m feeling a lot better generally. Like, actually better, not like last time where I thought I was well and happy when in reality I was just high as a kite. This time better looks more like a boring, routine stability, which, combined with a medication that is finally working, seems to be keeping me off the emotional rollercoaster. At least for now.

I’m also feeling better about my life. I’ve found an amazing flat in a perfect location, I’ve started work on resurrecting my social life, and I’ve fallen in love.

But I will tell you about all of these things individually at other times. The goal for this afternoon was to write something down and then post it.

And now I have.