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BlueWhatsername
1 110 M Embraced 1
PathStep 1 Compassion hearts5 Forum posts12 Forum upvotes17 Current upvotes17 Age GroupAdult Last activeJanuary, 2016 Member sinceJune 27, 2015
Recent forum posts
I don't know.
Personality Disorders Support / by BlueWhatsername
Last post
 June 28th, 2015
...See more *Edited by Forum Mentor for content. Trigger Warning.* I am not diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I'm seeing a psychiatrist in search of a diagnosis but my next appointment isn't until September. It's been my suspicion for a while that I may have BPD. Mum brought it up first, she read an account of BPD and said it described me exactly (and she doesn't know half the stuff about me that I do). I don't know though. I've studied psychology but I'm not qualified to make a diagnosis. Whether you're a mental health professional or have BPD yourself, maybe you'll be in a better position to tell me the likelihood of me having it based on my symptoms and advise me if and how I should bring it up with my psychiatrist. I'm 19, almost 20. I've struggled with suicidal feelings for as long as I can remember. I was 6 when I first tried to kill myself. I remember telling Mum that I wanted to die when I was 5 or 6 as well. I had bouts of depression from 6 - 12 where I'd attempt suicide. It was always an impulsive decision, no notes or anything just a hastily tied dressing gown cord or a period spent sitting on the windowsill urging myself to jump. I was 9 when I first considered self harm although I didn't actually cut myself until I was 12. I did hit myself in the face and bang my head off walls but I didn't count that as self harm, it was usually during a meltdown (what I called the depressive periods, I'd cry and attempt suicide and generally feel like I was losing it). I'm ashamed of how it came into my head as it was quite a manipulative thought. I was in trouble about something. I was always in trouble, my father was physically and emotionally abusive and used fear and blame to keep us in line. Suddenly, I thought "I'll steal a knife from the kitchen and cut my wrists. That will show them!" I don't know where it came from. When I did self harm, I'd like to stress that I didn't do it to manipulate anyone although I do have a habit of hissing "It's your fault!" when self harming. The person in question is whoever's upset me. I never show the person at fault, or anyone for that matter, but I feel strangely triumphant - like I've got revenge on them although, as they never find out, they never have to deal with the emotional repercussions of what they made me do. I have a lot of names. I'm currently Blue (I refuse to use my real name because I hate that I got it from my father and I hate the girl that name represents). I'm Violet on Facebook. I've been Callie, Cat, Pixie, Rainbow, Haruka and Autumn too. Each name represents a different part of my personality but Blue is kind of a collection of all of them because I live as Blue almost full time now. She's more confident than I am in real life though. Mum thinks I'm schizophrenic and that Blue is a different fictional person. I've tried explaining to her that I don't hallucinate, I'M Blue but I'm not sure she understood. I spend money like there's no tomorrow. I can't stop myself sometimes. I spent £70 in a bookstore the other week and I frequently buy stuff for people. Pizzas for my brother, boxes of chocolate for my mum. Stuff like that. I feel happier when I buy stuff. I'm not in any debt because my bank account only lets me spend what's there but I empty my account a lot. I've been getting SAAS payments from the government for going to college for the last year. I've nearly exhausted my last payment but I couldn't stop myself, I just feel better when I buy stuff. I feel neutral towards everyone except close friends and family members. I love them. Unless they wrong me and then I hate them. There is no in between. They're either the most important person in the world to me or the root cause of - or at least a major contributor to - my problems. I blame people a lot, it's who I am. They are usually to blame for something though. I can't hold down a relationship. My longest relationship was just under 9 months. I was 12/13, it was probably because we saw each other at school most days. He dumped me for being too clingy. My next relationship was nearly 3 months. I was dumped for being tpo clingy. My next relationship was less than 2 months. I was dumped for seeming uninterested because I was trying so hard not to be clingy because I wanted things to work. I was really upset each time I got dumped (hysterical crying upset). Especially with the last ex. I really loved her. Then I thought "Hey, I know why she dumped me!" and hated her. Then I loved her again and wanted her back. Now I'm eschewing relationships. I don't know what they're for but it's probably just sex and I don't need or want that. My emotions are unusually intense. I can't be sad without being suicidally depressed. I can't be angry without snarling, screaming and slicing my arms up. I can't find something amusing without laughing for 15 minutes about how funny it is. I can't be lonely without clinging onto someone, anyone who I don't currently hate to make the loneliness go away. I don't know if other people are like this. I tend not to discuss it because what if they're not and they think I'm crazy? What if I am crazy? I don't know. What do you think? There's more about me but I'm tired (exhausted actually) and I'm sure I've put you to sleep with my snoresville, self centered rambling. I'm sorry.
What happened to me [trigger warning]
Trauma Support / by BlueWhatsername
Last post
 July 16th, 2015
...See more Just a quick warning: this is about sexual assault, maybe rape. If that sort of thing is detrimental to your emotional state, don't read any further. I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to get this out. It was May 2014. I'm asexual and homoromantic but at the time, I thought I was biromantic (I'd had a boyfriend when I was 12 so I thought I must like boys although I was never actually attracted to them). I met a guy through a mutual friend. I wasn't attracted to him obviously, but he fancied me and I didn't feel I could turn him down because I'd led him on by inviting him to hang out. Anyway, he seemed pretty nice. He knew I was asexual before he'd asked me out and I'd explained what it meant and I reiterated early on that I didn't ever want to have sex and if he wasn't happy with that, this was his chance to leave. He said he didn't want sex because he'd spent the last two years sleeping around and wanted to settle down. A week or so later, we bought alcohol and sat outside, drinking. He had cans of cheap beer, I had my favourite craft beer. I poured us both a whisky and we sat down in the living room. By the time I finished my whisky, I was tipsy. Not drunk but suggestible. He put his barely touched whisky in my hand and said "Drink". I did. The next thing I remember was coming to on my back, completely naked, with him on top of me. I was in my bedroom which is adjacent to the living room. I don't know what he was doing but it hurt like hell. He might have been using his fingers but I was drunk and in a lot of pain so I didn't really take note. I tried to scream or tell him to stop but all I managed was a faint groan which probably just encouraged him. I could move my arms but I was too feeble to push him away so I covered my face with my hands. It was probably only seconds, minutes at the most but it felt like hours. I burst into tears and curled up on my side, facing away from him. He didn't seem to know what was wrong, he asked me but I was hysterical. He went to get me a glass of Pepsi. Whilst he was out of the room, I located my dressing gown and put it on. I drank half the Pepsi before passing out. I asked him the next morning to fill in the blanks. It seemed I'd been unable to walk (he neglected to mention whether I was actually conscious) after my second whisky so he'd carried me to my room. He'd left to brush his teeth and returned to find I'd undressed to my underwear. That's probably true, my room was very hot and I slept in my underwear when he wasn't staying over. When I'm drunk, I follow my normal routine on autopilot. He didn't give me any further details except that I'd been enjoying it and relaying that verbally until the bit that I remember, when the pain started. I don't know if it was rape or what because even if I didn't say yes, I was too drunk to say no. I'd told him beforehand that it wasn't something I ever wanted to do though. Was it asking too much for him to remember that? Anyway, I'm consumed with guilt and shame over that incident alone but I didn't leave him. I didn't want to be the stupid girl who got drunk and slept with a guy she hadn't known for a month. I thought if I stayed with him, it would be more acceptable. I didn't want any more sexual situations to happen but of course, they did. He'd taken away my best two excuses which were "I want to stay a virgin for moral reasons" and "I don't want you to see my body because I'm self conscious". I tried the second one but he laughed and said he'd already seen me so I didn't really have any way to stop it. I consented. It hurt the first four times or so but even after it stopped hurting, I felt sick with shame and disgust at what was happening and how I'd given in to it. He dumped me after two months but I already felt used by then. My mother's response when I told her I'd been dumped was "At least you didn't sleep with him" to which I tearfully admitted I had. She told my brother who vocalised my thoughts that I was a cheap slut with no morals. He also questioned my asexuality but the experience had just made me more certain that I wanted nothing to do with sex. Mum asked if I'd been raped but I didn't know and I still don't. Did I consent? Did it count if I did? Why on earth would I consent to something I didn't want? Why did I get drunk with a guy I'd known for three weeks? Why did I trust him? Why didn't I stay sober? Why didn't I leave him? Why couldn't I have known I liked only girls earlier? I traced it back to when I met the friend who'd introduced us. Why did Mum drag me over to tell the girl I liked her hair? If she hadn't, this would never have happened. I was already mentally unstable before then, I'd started self harming at 12 and had a breakdown at 13 but I was sort of OK. I was learning to love myself and I wasn't feeling horrendous. Then that happened and I've gone downhill massively. Nothing like a serving of shame, guilt and sheer self loathing to weigh down the spirit. And I can't do anything about it. I can't bring myself to say it out loud and the only online friend I would consider talking to was raped as a child and it would be cruel to bring back horrible memories for her. I feel like, because I was 18 at the time, I should just get over it. It's not like I was a kid, I was a fully grown adult and it's pathetic that I can't get over things and deal with my feelings. I want my anti depressants to start working so I can just forget. I'd rather be a zombie than alive. I'm sorry for going on but it's been over a year and I still haven't been able to tell anyone the full story. I know it will still plague me but it might be a weight off my mind, I don't know. I needed to say it and share my concerns. Sorry.
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