I’ve lived my life in fear. Fear is a constant. It’s always there, waiting to trigger my anxiety and then the deep dark pain. I’m scared of how people react to things I do and say. I’m scared I’m going to chase my husband away. I’m scared of living. I’m scared of everyone I love dying. I am always terrified of waking up or coming home and Josh is dead. Or my cats. Or the guinea pigs. Or my leopard gecko. Or my friends. I’m scared of my mother dying, even though she chose to be alone rather than have me be a part of her life. I’m scared.

Living with this fear is so awful. My stomach always hurts. I am constantly trying not to let those thoughts take over. I know how bad I get when they do. I wish I could be dead so I don’t have to deal with the pain that is going to happen eventually. Who is like this? Why am I like this?

Being scared of other people is always a classic. I’m scared of the world. God. I am typing this and embarassed. I try and find the good in things, it is just extra hard and exhausting. I just want to live freely with the fear there, but in the far back of my brain. I know we all fear some of these things. I know that fear is natural. But I also know that people don’t have this constant terror in the front of all their thoughts.

I say all the time I wish I was normal. I know that there is no normal, but I know that there are SO many people that don’t let fear control everything they do or say. It sucks. I want more from myself.

This isn’t fair. It’s not fair that I can’t just enjoy shit. I feel like I did something horrible and this is my punishment. I just don’t know what I did. I hate myself so much sometimes. I’ve had to major manic episodes in one week. I hit myself hard in the face to try and make it stop. It helped for like 30 seconds and then I was screaming and crying in my car. I was scared of the people that don’t give a shit about other drivers. I was scared I was going to follow him and smash his head into the hood of his stupid car. I knew I wouldn’t do it. I made myself scared of myself. How fucked up is that?

Anyway. Fear seems to control everything I do. I hope I’m not alone. I hope if you read this you know you aren’t alone. This just sucks.


I am sharing my story of why and how I developed BPD and what I am doing to rebuild myself.

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