And in this moment, I just knew, I wasn’t “normal”…


Sometime in October, 2006

I am sitting on the floor, screaming and crying- a familiar scene for me. I am starring at my reflection in the mirror. I am a f*cking piece of work, really I am. I am watching the tears fall one at a time as if I am in slow motion. I feel bruised, abandoned, defeated by my inner demons. I feel like this often. I know I am not okay, I know that my reactions to what has just occurred in my life are far from normal, yet at the time I chalk it up to hormones as I do not feel like coming to terms with my mental instability. My emotions are at such a high intensity I cannot concentrate, I cannot move, I am paralyzed by my own inner thoughts. I bite my lip until it bleeds, and I don’t even flinch. My mother is yelling- I think she would like me to stop screaming, for reasons unbeknown to her- and it will stay that way because we just aren’t on the best of terms at this point.

I pick up my phone, my hand trembles. WHAT THE F*CK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! I scream over and over. I throw the phone and curl into my safety ball on the floor. “Why, why, why, wh…?” This continues for what seems like only a few minutes yet turns out to be hours. I begin to mumble under my breath. Going back and forth I am arguing against a power I cannot withstand, myself. I HATE YOU…I want you back! I NEED YOU…how could you do this to me!

For some reason, which I never understood until later, thoughts of my father circled in my mind. Thoughts of wanting him there to help me, thoughts of hating him and wanting nothing but for him to just die, thoughts…thoughts, many thoughts. I found myself calling out to him as if there were something he could offer me. Yet I am sure that had he seen me, had anyone seen me in that moment, in my room, breaking down on my bedroom floor, they all would have known that nothing could have been offered to help me, that was certain.

I can remember a part of me wanting to control myself and another part of me just wanting to let it all out until there was nothing more to give, to let go of. I sat up against the wall and pounded my fists to the floor. I felt hopeless, lost and paralyzed by the fear that I was not loved, that I had been left to rot. I was convinced that there was no pain anywhere other than in my heart. I was selfish to the fact that no one else could possibly be feeling the misery of betrayal and abandonment that I was feeling.

I kept picking my phone up, looking at it and screaming at it as if my phone where a person capable of hearing and feeling. I had a need to release my pain onto some inanimate object and relive myself of this agony. I throw the phone as hard as I can against a wall. It breaks and falls. This does not relieve my pain but feeds to the fire. I am now angry; I am dealing with several emotions at once and unable to separate them from one another. I begin to lose track and my whirlwind of emotions breaks hard at my core. I am defeated yet again, and again left with a painful memory of enduring it all on my own.

By the end of this episode I was f*cking sick to my stomach, my head pounding and throwing up on myself. I was seventeen years old and I still had no idea how to regulate my emotions, I couldn’t even have told you where to start. I had given up on therapy, tossed the pills and had attempted to prove I was fine. I was not fine.

Most girls do not take a breakup well. They are not expected to. But most girls are not found in a ball on the floor screaming and crying as if they have been tortured and stabbed with a thousand knives, even if it is how they feel at the time. Most girls cry and within some short to moderate amount of time get over the fact and move on with their lives. Most girls are not still doing this 4 years after the fact. But by now I am sure you have gathered the fact that I am not most girls.

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6 Responses

  1. I can relate to this 😉

  2. Kayla, thank you for sharing this horrible moment with us. I commend you on having the courage to talk about how you feel. It’s very important for someone to first acknowledge that they have a serious problem like yours. The next step is getting the help that you need.

    Are you in therapy yet?

  3. This is very sad but I can definitely relate to a lot of it.. I hope it is getting easier to deal with (though I know sometimes it feels like it hurts more). Hugs! M x

  4. First of all, thank you for sharing this. Recently, I was diagnosed with BPD as well. But I knew I allready was suffering from it a long time. My therapy begins the end of March. I still cry and scream like you explained, even after 8 years. I am not like most girls either. Thank you.

  5. *hugs*

    When my current boyfriend broke up with me almost three years ago, I cried for about two weeks straight. I don’t take rejection very well at all.

    Thank you for sharing this with us.

  6. Wow. I really relate to this. I have been through similar episodes time and time again… And broken many phones!

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