Someone recently asked me why I sometimes say I feel nothing, and other times that I feel too intensely . Sometimes there is nothing - no emotion, just an unbearable emptiness. Other times I feel everything at once, like a storm. I am as sensitive as a seismograph and experience a chaos of emotions: anger, disappointment, fear, joy, love and euphoria - all at the same time and with overwhelming intensity.
There are times when I find myself in a car at over 200 km/h with my eyes closed, and others when I panic about not waking up from anesthesia. The feeling of losing control causes real fear. Sometimes I run 30 km a day and starve myself, then there are months when sport is a foreign concept to me.
Sometimes I stand in the spotlight in front of a lot of people, having conversations and leading discussions. Other days I cancel meetings with friends because I am overwhelmed by the fear of crowds. Being close to friends, partners and family is sometimes overwhelming, sometimes longed for, but being alone often weighs more heavily.
In moments of euphoria I spontaneously travel to Amsterdam, but planned trips often fail because they are impossible to carry out. There have been times when I have worked up to 70 hours a week, followed by days when I couldn't get out of bed. I spend a lot of money impulsively without thinking about the consequences. The shame and anger at myself always accompany me.
Although I change my appearance and dress in colorful clothes, I avoid self-care . I am my own harshest critic, ashamed of who I am, and almost always say "yes" to everything without setting boundaries. I hide my true feelings behind a facade to conceal how I really feel.
My therapist often wants to see the "real" patient - the one who cries in the car and suffers from inner tension. The one who desperately calls his mother because he needs help. I often get lost in my thoughts, forget things and constantly doubt myself.
People say I'm kindhearted, but compliments make me more painful than happy. I hurt others with my impulsive behavior, driving them away from me with distance and white lies. I know that those around me suffer because of my illness, and I feel deeply for everyone, as if I were affected myself. I understand only too well how lonely one can feel.
I used to strive for a perfect CV, but now I collect hospital stays and doctor's letters. My goals are blurred and I often ask myself: Who am I? What do I want to be? The cycle of "OK, bad, hospital, OK" seems endless. No therapy has yet brought a breakthrough, but I'm not giving up. I want to live a normal life, happy with myself and in healthy relationships.
