Days Without Incident: Nine

This morning, one of my closest friends gave me a writing prompt. Since I’ve been feeling pretty sick, I haven’t done much reading, so I’m going to use her prompt for today’s post. Feel free to write along! Here’s the question: 

“What voice do you hear in your head when you’re spiraling?”

As most people with borderline personality disorder—or other trauma related disorders—the answer felt obvious. Me, of course, but the loudest, meanest, most critical and pessimistic version of myself. You see, I like to describe my brain as an unorganized newsroom. You’ve got the writer, me, trying to get everyone to pay attention to the plot line I’ve laid out for myself. And then, you’ve got the editors, the photographer, the quality assurance manager, and the producer—all still me—trying to nitpick and manipulate each and every word that comes out of my mouth. 

All of these versions of myself come from different points of view. One is the idealistic dreamer who wants a loving family, a close friend group, and a doting partner. She gets upset when I’m mad at Sean, when I’m too exhausted to answer my friends, and she just can’t handle the fact that I’m not speaking to my mother at this time. Another is darker and likes to remind me of all the ways people have hurt me leading up to this moment. She’s helped me realize that I’m allowed to be put first. Then, of course, there’s the rational one who says research and required readings will calm the noise, and then the irrational thinker who convinces me that my thoughts are too scattered and vague to really be deciding anything at all. 

But the voice that comes out when I’m spiraling doesn’t understand social constructs. It’s loud, abrasive, and manipulative. It often confuses egocentrism with altruism. Suggestions like “just scream,” “punch that,” or “break that” are her safety choices when it’s her turn at the table. Sometimes all she does is make my brain ring and my inner ears swell up. She’s so loud that I have to constantly distract myself with television, music, podcasts, audiobooks, or whatever else will muffle her screeches. 

What voice do I hear? Even my most soothing version of myself is just me. I don’t hear the voice of an old friend, a loving family member, or my favorite musician. It’s just me reminding myself that this moment will pass, I will make it to the next day, and soon, things will be okay. Not that I don’t have incredibly kind and inspirational friends—because I do—but those voices develop at a young age. Maybe I wouldn’t have developed so many opposing voices if I was able to surround myself with better influences at a younger age. There is a lot of research I could use to build upon this point, but I am still feeling pretty sick. I won’t bore you all with the statistics if I can’t even keep both eyes open to read them myself.

Anyways, thanks for coming to day 9!!