  I just turned 20 in April; I'm getting so old. When I was younger, starting from the age of 11, I would cry myself to sleep every single night. I would think about the past; I would attempt to recall every possible happy memory of my childhood, yet I was still a child. I did not know it yet, but I had been suffering trauma from a verbally and physically abusive father. Luckily, I was the only girl, so I was saved from the belt. I assumed this was normal, of course, I never talked to any of my friends about it; I wanted to be consoled. I feared that if mom knew how I felt knew it would make her worry for me and she already had so much to worry about. My night time obsessions have plagued me ever since, but the daytime was no better. I have always had compulsions and obsessions: I used to bite my nails but as I got older, I would pick my fingers until I bled because I could not stand to have to peel skin on my fingers; it did not matter where I was, if I was at school, at the doctor's office. I had kidney reflux which caused me to hold my pee since I was a baby, this pain lead me to fear peeing and pee itself. My mom would sprinkle "pixie dust" into my belly button because she said it would magically help me pee. It was a placebo of course, but the glitter helped. What the glitter failed to fix though was my fear of pee itself; this caused me to wipe incessantly until I bled. I couldn't even use the restroom in school in fear that I would take too long and they would come looking for me, or worse, make fun of me. The holding got so bad I developed constant bladder pain. I couldn't pee even when I tried. I since have received physical therapy for overly tense pelvic floor muscles, the holding is what gave me the chronic pain and voiding dysfunction. The obsessive behavior followed me into high school; I had no friends, most of them had moved away, and I would stay in my room reading and studying for hours. My older brother went to Harvard and I felt inferior and stupid, I knew I could not get into an Ivy League even if I tried my hardest, but I continued to try hard in school. I wanted to be just like him, I had no sense of who I was at this time. I did not know how people made friends or went to parties. I found it hard to relate to people my age. I always spaced out as a kid, my mind just went blank, I couldn't help it. I started to notice more and more as I got older, I grew to enjoy my ability to shut out the world around me; I liked the white-noise. My room was a mess, if I didn't have my grandmother picking up for me, it would have looked like something off an episode of hoarders. I had trouble deciding when to throw things away; I kept all my old notebooks from the previous school years, I kept clothing that no longer fit me, but I couldn't get rid of them because they were my favorite. I thought that if I gave something away, I would end up wanting it later, which made it hard for me to keep my room functional. My hoarding has gotten slightly better over the years. I was disorganized; everyone packed up their papers at the end of class so fast, which would make me anxious, so I would just cram my papers into my backpack or whatever folder I could get to first. 

I started to get in trouble with my teachers, they encouraged my mom to get me professionally evaluated. I learned that I had been suffering from a nonverbal learning disorder, dyscalculia, ADHD, and Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. That was as far as they went with the evaluations and I was never seen by a psychiatrist until my junior year of high school. My relationships in highschool were stable until they weren't; I was jealous of my outgoing friends and resented them for going to parties and events with people who did not intend to invite me. I started dating boys who sold weed just to get a rush. I fell in love with one of these boys, I still love him to this day, but we have never had a stable relationship. It was perfect until it wasn't. I was jealous he was choosing to spend time with his friends over me a lot of the time, which lead me to talk to this other guy. My boyfriend was younger than me, I was completely manipulating him, and it hurt him. We broke up, he had sex with someone else. We lost our virginities to each other, so I was crushed. At that point, he was the only person I had ever had sex with. It was my fault, to begin with, but I felt so hurt after that, yet I agreed to get back together with him. I was resentful and I held it against him, yet he never once held anything over my head. I felt dependent on him for all of my happiness. I was obsessive, I couldn't handle him liking any other girl's pictures. Seeing his name under one post could catalyze a wave of anger and sadness that would induce panic and anxiety. At this point, I was smoking every day, multiple times a day. My stomach was in chronic pain and I started to develop an eating disorder; I didn't think I was fat, but I had no appetite and nothing seemed good to me anymore. I started to go to a nutritionist who tried to help me gain weight and improve my diet. It didn't go so well because we tried several different diets and the pain in my stomach never went away. It got so bad that I had to visit the gastroenterologist. I was the only 17-year-old in the waiting room for my colonoscopy. They found nothing wrong with my GI tract and I had no found food allergies. I began to get chronic nausea anytime I got stressed or hungry. My senior prom took a turn when I started throwing up before pictures in the car; I hadn't eaten all day and I was stressed because I was running low on time and was late for pictures. This was my very first episode of cyclic vomiting. The next episode was the day of my high school graduation when I had another fight with my friend over the same group of popular people. I cut myself two hours before I walked down the stage to receive my diploma. In a way, cutting my wrists always made me feel safe, the physical act would relieve my pain. Yet, I felt guilty, like I was looking for sympathy or attention. It is a horrible coping mechanism and only helped temporarily. I kept having cyclic vomiting and my mom's resident from Colorado presented her with a case study for cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome he had seen at his previous job. It was at that moment we realized what was causing my chronic stomach pain and cyclic vomiting: my substance abuse. I have been in and out of the ER and have wasted my mother thousands of dollars in medical bills because I could not control my addiction. 

I started to see a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with depression and general anxiety, but I never spoke with her much, since she was not a therapist, therefore she was not sufficiently able to diagnose me with any type of personality disorder. I began seeing a therapist, it felt very weird to me because she was asking me things that I had never been able to say out loud. I did not like the idea of paying someone to listen to me and care about my problems; she was nice, but I stopped seeing her after a few sessions. I left for college, my boyfriend and I broke up on horrible terms, and I got really depressed and failed most of my honors classes, and lost my scholarship. My substance abuse worsened, I hardly remember that year, I was either high, asleep, or wasted at some frat house. I had to be wasted in order to meet new people. In this period, I kindled new relationships for validation and distraction from my pain, but only ended up hurting them and was constantly cheating on them with my ex. I was either the sexiest person alive or the most vile, disgusting creature to ever live, with no in-between. I started dating my ex again, we were together for the rest of my freshman year and that summer, but after the honeymoon phase faded and the summer was over, we broke up. I was back at college, but I learned new coping skills and learned from my mistakes. That year was my peak. I was so happy, I learned to love being alone and I learned to love spending time with myself. I started to cut back on the weed and focus on school. I changed my major three times in one year and kept adding on different minors because I could not choose one thing to focus on, and if I did, I would grow tired of it or convince myself it was not the fit for me. I got all A's and a few B's that year. A year ago I relapsed and started to talk to my ex again, it ended, then I got worse. I cried all the time. I developed vitreous floaters in my eye and got really depressed. I have obsessions that I cannot control and I was not able to sit in the light without counting them and making sure they weren't getting worse or bigger. It has been a year since then and I am learning to accept them. I tend to catastrophize events. It helps to see from different perspectives. I have my vision, many people do not. So, it helps to rationalize. 

I have never been diagnosed with BPD, but seem to suffer all of the symptoms. I intend to get a therapist, I want a DBT specialist, but I also may want to do some CBT. I may also try to get on Pristique, but last time I tried SSRI's they made me nauseous. Although I have been a nihilist most of my life, I try to remain hopeful for my future because no matter how much I contemplate suicide, it never seems like the answer. I think of my family and my friends who have been there for me for years who would be devastated. I cannot be selfish enough to make them suffer, no matter how much I am suffering myself. This year I am going to focus on my mental and physical well-being and I urge all of those suffering similarly to prioritize your recovery and to make time for those who have cared for you and supported you. I would love it if we could all share our similar stories, it helps to know we are not alone, and it helps to express your inner turmoil.