Pity Party

I’m sad and anxious and feeling all woe is me. So let’s discuss why.

Yesterday I watched AOC’s Instagram live talking about what happened at the Capitol on 1/6. She spoke of how she is a survivor of sexual assault. She is a survivor of multiple traumas. She survived the insurrection. And she is fighting every day. And she does it with her head held high. She is a hero.

Here comes the cringe. I look at her and think of the countless people who have survived trauma and abuse. The countless people who can live a semi healthy life. Why am I so different? Why can’t I get over myself and my damaged past and just be a functional adult? I can’t work. I can’t go into a store for longer than a few minutes. I have incontrolable road rage. I’m 39 years old and I feel like a kid. I can’t hold a conversation for long without forgetting what I’m talking about. My memory is terrible. What the fuck am I good for?

I told you it was cringy. Or cringey? Whatever. I just needed to get that out. I know I am good for some things. It just sometimes doesn’t feel like enough. I have to constantly fight myself because I know it all stems from my mother. But fuck if it isn’t the most annoying thing. Ok. Enough whining. Big girl pants are on.


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

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