    This is sorta a long write.   This is the story that forced me to come here.  And also set up an evaluation for me. This week coming. 

I dont feel weirded out anymore by them( paranoid hallucinations  with bpd) after researching. I understand that's its not super common but it's also not rare for people with BPD to have mini psychotic breaks under states of extreme stress, like a break up or panic attack. I say mini because they are never true psychosis, more a  "psuedopyschosis"   They never talk to me or truly engage me(my little, rare bouts of  psychosises)/or even last more than a few minutes. (The longest and scariest one was 5 hours)  So I know they are just hallucinations under stress, usually triggered when I'm extremely paranoid/ extremely emotional/reeling from separation/ knowing I have to separate; like the last time. 

   
   The last one was with my last boyfriend.  He had finally fall asleep after a 4 day drug binge he was on.  It was the first time I knew for sure he had a serious drug problem (meth). I had found his meth pipe, in a Nike shoe box he kept in his closet, on the top shelf the day before that day.   He already had D.I.D,  that in and of itself is something hard to deal with. But I didn't mind it. 

    His D.I.D for the most part,  calmed me.  The little persona in him made me feel needed finally (bpd signs lol).  Even his aggressive side, when I understood why he lashed out, was good to me. Only coming out to protect him , or protect me like on the subway when a man keep follwing me when I was on my way to see him in the Bronx.  The guy was off something/not in touch with reality, and keep following me.  

     He would just stare at me, and follow me to the next car, each time I would move.  He would stare and grunt like a wild animal 2 feet away from me. He would growl and stare at me like a rabid dog with yellow jaundice eyes.   I have ptsd from a rape that happened at 22 (I'm 30 now).  And he was triggering my response of flight.  He was tall like the guy who did it to me and solid with muscles.  

  So when I finally got tio Brandon, I had that look of fear in my eyes. 

   "What's wrong with you?"

  He "switched" right in that moment after seeing the guy slink behind me. He fought the man without thought, knocking him clean out with a 2 hit combo, even though he was only 5'9 to the guys 6'5 height. "The bpd girl in me" screamed in excitedness because in all my bpd dreams, that's what a real man is.... they do anything for their woman. They will kill for their woman  Lol. Yes knock men out for me.  Yes do anything for me. Protect me 😍🤸🏾‍♀️👸🏾🧜🏾‍♀️😍🐇😍😍😍😍😍😍

    I fall in love with him off of that.  Lol.  I became obsessive with him after that. 

       He had four personas. The first 3 all liking me for  different reasons. He used to have more, but the solidified into less personas as he got older. 

    One persona was Most, his hood persona.  The street side of him, Most was two personas that merged into one after years, Ghost and Most.  A rapper and a street guy.  It usually comes out when he is tryna make music, watching an action movie, seeing some of his old friends from his hood or needing to fight. Most was also touched by bouts of OCD, where he had to clean the house.  (Or that could been the meth I never really knew about honestly). 

     Another one was Little Brandon. In moments of sleepiness/tiredness, he comes out.   He tries to hide this one the most, the vulnerable, childlike one, cuz he is a man. But outta all his personas, I like Little Brandon the most.     Little brandon, collects teddy bears and humms lullabies when he is falling go sleep.  

   He's scared of bugs and spiders.  

    He likes cartoons and drawing.  


    I Rememver moments of him waking from his sleep to talk to me. 

  Little Brandon:  Daissyyy, I ammmmb thriusdyyy

Me: do you want juice or water?

Little Bradon: juicedd

Me: o okay. Hold on 

    I bring him the juice from the refrigerator. Guzzling it, he sucks his thumb and curls into a ball. 

Little Brandon: Is lubss you Daissyyy

Me: awww I love you too. 

   Other moments of me writing late night and him waking me up.  

Little Brandon:  cuddlessss me Daisyyy (he lefts his arms up for me)

Me: okay, come here.  

   I'd rub his scalp until he'd fall back to sleep on my chest.  

    When we had to buy covid masks, Little Brandon came out at the register. 

   "I haves to buyss masks for my babiess"

   He bout four masks for all of his stuffed bears and placed one on each.   It's a purity in little Bradon that draws me.  I always see babies as pure.  They are only things I'll never "split" on.  Only adults get both sides of me. Same with animals I think. 

    He'd place them in his backpack to protect them and keep themself. 

  Little Brandon: "i's can't leaves them Daisy.  I wills always protects them." 



   Then there was his dominant persona Brandon.  Brandon was still a little hood but intelligent. We talk about everything. The universe, the birth of the world, quantum physics,  afterlife,  all the answers to life humans don't definitively know about. I loved it.  He loved my brain and not just my body....

  And each day...without knowing....I grew more and more attached to him.  

     Fixing the puzzle of him in my mind, made me fall in love deeply. Until I wanted to spend every waking moment with him.  

    I felt needed like I hadn't in a minute, because I told myself I was unlovable and un-needed. 

    So, I become his journal with my almost photographic memory. That was my job for him. 

   (When people with D.I.D switch,  sometimes they can't remember what happens or it's almost like recalling a dream.)


    "Bae, where did I live my wallet?"


    "On the bathroom sink", I'd reply to him. 

      "Bae, where did I leave my phone."

      "Its in your shoe"

      "Thank's baby"

   He'd give me a full, passionate kiss. 

     "Daisy....Daisy....who changed my fucking room!"

      "You did last night...", I'd reply. 

       "Oh...haha...I forgot I'm off my rocker" 



    I know it's like, how can something so meaningless make you feel so needed.  But it did.  I could be his journal, so I did become his journal during those moments of forgetfulness. 

      There's a 4th persona that only comes out at triggers.  A persona that mirrors BPD.  [Can each persona have a different mental trait? Prolly so]. His fourth persona didn't have a name, but it was distinct enough to be it's own. So we will call this one "Nobody" with bpd. 

    A song could trigger Nobody.  One of my sweetest kisses could Trigger Nobody.  I forget to text and: I was the whore of Babylon. 

       The fourth persona was a manifestation of all his self hate and worthlessness.  In this state he didnt deserve to be love, and I would leave him. He should kill himself because he was going through life half dead anyways, not remembering thousands of days.  It's the only persona that clashed with mines because it was like looking in a mirror.  Thankfully for all the time I was with him, it was rare to come out....maybe 3 Times in one year.  

  But the drugs would amplify his condition, sending him into days of forgetfulness or days of blinding rage. Utter depression.  Never to me, but to other people, his room would be  destroyed after these episodes ,  he'd fight people randomly on the street for giving him a "look". 

  Before he fall asleep, he was talking to his closet on the night I knew I had to break up with him. I just hugged him, rubbed his scalp with my fingers, until he got drowsy and came to bed with me.  That ALL-TO-FAMILAR weight crushing feeling returned to me. 

   I gotta leave him. I KNEW it in my head.  And I cried as he slept.  Like we were almost perfect right. He was sweet. He didn't just wanna fuck me,  he likes that I'm a transgender girl, he is smart.  I don't wanna fucking leave him. I knew...with my undiagnosed BPD...I cant handle him as a lover currently.  The logical part of me knew. The emotional part of me was like, save your man. That's your man, Bitch. Dont leave your man, he needs you!

     But there's no saving a hardcore drug user.  I been there before and it almost made me take my own life seeing him spiral. 

    And in came the rush of BPD hell. 

    I'll never find love.

  I'll die alone.

    I'm garbage...that's why I attract garbage men.  

  I'm a trans girl... what was I expecting from life.

   My life will never amount to anything.

      My life is bleak and abysmal. Death is better than this. 

     Until the story he told me last week popped up in my mind about how he looks in the mirror and sometimes it doesn't look like him (a trait common in people with D.I.D). 

   "That's why I always break mirrors when I am upset, Daisy. The broken mirror represents me, myself fractured into multiple shards.  I don't always recognize myself when I look in the mirror"

   Or my friend who has bipolar, and when she's maniac she sometimes dances in her full length mirror and sees a demon girl in her mirror wanting to get out.  

  Both stories scared me at the time of hearing them for different reasons. 

  I don't know why those memories popped up outta nowhere as I'm crying and feeling low, and like trash.  But they did.  Maybe it was my mind's defense....like instead of being depressive, my body is like, let's make you scared, anything so u dont go into a suicidal spiral. 

    I started smoking a blunt to calm my nerves.  Usually I don't get paranoid on weed. Usually it calms me.  Only 2 times, 3 years apart, has this happened to me. And the other time not on anything. 

     But every break up feels like my life is ending. Doom and gloom sets in.  I am nothing. I am worthless.  I have no value.  I am wasting air, and energy, mass and space. 

   With candles and dim lights at 2am, I looked in the mirror across from his bed.  

     It was me at first.  Unassuming. 

      But I felt compelled to stare, and to keep staring. Like it was beckoning me. Like it was hypnotizing me. 

      The whole of my eyes in the mirror 
became dark after 30 seconds gradually...and at the ends of the smiles lines sorta switched into a smile from the sad face I had. A dark evil smile.  One creepy ass, unsettling ass smile.  My body shook and I got anxious, bouncing my foot and leg, until I shook the whole bed.

     It was like a demon Me was staring back. Like this is the darkness I see when my bpd make me spiteful, cruel or uncaring. It made me hella petrified. 

  He woke up...like 

  "Wassss wrrrrong Daisy" 

   In his little persona voice.  Usually I'm calmed by it, but not that night. 

     "I just saw something in the mirror....never...never mind". 

While talking to him I made sure not to look in the mirror.  I did a nervous giggle and rubbed his face, the beautiful face I knew I had to break up with...but was making me spiral. 

      Back to his dominant persona, he woke up completely.  Hearing the fear in my voice.  

      "You too....see it's something evil about this  old building.  Know what I'm saying...." Brandon said in his Harlem voice.  

       He got up and turned the mirror to the wall.  

   It was only then. This not really a normal occurrence for me. I truly only see things in those rare states. So 3 times in life.  Years removed from each.  I can look at mirrors now and its unassuming lol. 

   But those rare times when I'm spiraling in emotions or paranoia is horrifying.  Because what I'm seeing looks so real.  Not like a dream but reality. 


     I think my brain is desperately trying so hard to make my emotions make sense....it creates hallucinations outta my thoughts.  Its fucking creepy.  Hella creepy.  

   I broke up with him and left the next morning. For a day I was numb....and after that....I had 3 full weeks of suicidal ideations that scared me.  

    Romanticizing death and how death was a He and I could finally rest with his kisses, the children would be our stars and the cosmos my new home.  

     I thought of taking all the sleeping pills in my dresser draw.  

     I went to the top floor of a sky scaper office building in Manhattan and fought the urge to jump off.  

   I thought of writing a manifesto, going to the bathroom and cutting my wrist, hannah Baker style.  

  And now I'm not in that stage. I'm just grey.  Just numb.  But I know I definitely need some kinda help now. 

  That was the lesson Brandon taught me....ownership of my mental health. 

  As a black person and transgender, I'm often distrusting of the mental health field.  

   Growing up black, black people usually brush mental illness away.  Or put the crazy auntie or uncle in the secluded attic to live.  It's one of those things brushed under the rug like rape and child molestation.

   But healing yourself is my right.  I have to heal myself if I wanna love someone else, like brandon has to heal his intense drug addiction if he wanna love me.  

     That was my lesson.