Why are people with borderline personality disorder so capab...

The only way I could protect my broken heart was to get meaner than the vipers who broke me. Colder than the hearts who were supposed to care for me. When it hurts I have to pretend to be indifferent. When I’m falling apart I have to fake it until I make it. When I’m disrespected I have to be perfectly fucking stoic or it will be used against me. I have to grey rock people who were meant to be kind to me.

I’m so sorry to the people who love me for me. I’m so fucking sorry, because when you gave me a safe space to show my true colors, to be myself, to express myself…you got the angry version of me. The resentful version of me. The hateful version of me. The hurt version of me. The depressed version of me. The worst. Fucking. Version. Of me.

Because someone once ripped me apart with their words.

Hello, I have a question about astral projection. I started to get interested in this a little while after my mum passed in april. I thought I may be able to see her and speak with her if I managed to achieve astral projection. Since this interest, every time i sleep on my back I go into sleep paralysis. However, I cant progress into astral projection because it is very scary for me as I feel like I'm suffocating when this happens. I panic and force myself to wake up. This only ever happened about once a year before this. It sometimes lasts a long time. This has happened about 3 times per week since my mum died, as mentioned on a previous post. I no longer try to go into it anymore(due to the suffocating feeling), but it still happens. I read that sleep paralysis is the pathway to astral projection. Why has this started to happen so frequently since simply taking an interest in it? Is this connected to the afterlife? I am concerned about it as I now cannot seem to stop this happening. Could it be my mum trying to communicate? Im asking due to more knowledge around this in this group.

Let me correct myself. Not once. Not twice. Maybe, more than a hundred times. It’s embedded in me like deep scar tissue; an imprint from people who were supposed to love me.

I’m so. Fucking. Sorry.

Why are people with borderline personality disorder so capable of ripping someone apart with their words?

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