Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Asocial Justice #1: Mental Illness Fakers, and Why They Piss Me Off #actuallybpd #sjws

I spent three crippling weeks contemplating what I was going to do and what I was going to say to my therapist. My mind was an abomination consisting of garbled and shitty tactics and coping mechs and whatnot that I'd tried to teach myself for years. Often, I just sobbed in my bed, nearly drenching my pillow in tears - when either everyone was absent or sleeping. 

I was seriously considering the fact that I likely had Borderline Personality Disorder, after reading its symptoms and criteria from a multitude of sites. But I wasn't sure. Even so, it nagged at me like a diseased piece of food, in my stomach. I thought, oh my fucking god, this shit is interminable, I bet it'll never subside, no wonder I've been such a psychotic bitch in the past few years!! Holy fuck, I am ruined if this is true!!!

And then some days I'd perk up and say, maybe I'll be okay!! 

Constant mood shifts, fear of abandonment and rejection, those are only components of bpd and not what entirely classify the condition itself, but they've been present since my early teens.

I had my tumblr still at the time. And was kind of reliant on the few followers I had to feed my esteem. Of course, after the diagnosis, it all takes a nosedive.

My therapist and I sat, facing each other for a few minutes, before I finally stammered out to her that I thought I had bpd. She said she was proud of me for being able to hold it in for so long, and that she was sorry about her time shortage. I fucking cried.

Next few visits passed, and we finally also had the time to examine the official criteria, which I believe I met slightly above minimal for. But still, I met it. So I had a mood disorder. One could say now that it was official, I couldn't be tortured by it anymore. 


I began to look to bpd people on the always healthy, and by that, I mean, totally mentally upsetting! tumblr, and there I discovered the worst brands of special snowflakes, whom took my mood disorder, as well as others - saying "self diagnosis is real" blAH blah blah, pretending that their prognosis fits their delusional minds because they want to be special- and using them as novelties, coupled alongside things like severe anxiety, and chronic depression, both of which I also have as hindrances on my back!!

These people did not really begin to irk me until I started my Twitter stakeout of the special snowflakes, in which I witnessed my former "friend" whose name shall be simply reduced to A, and their friend, who will be simply reduced to B, faking Dissociative Identity Disorder and using it as a special snowflake attribute alongside customized special snowflake pronouns. The latter is disgusting enough and a complete and corrupt desecration of the gender roles that pronouns present, and the idea that pronouns are not supposed to be personalized. But nonetheless, the former, out of personal experience and aungish i have had for years as a result of being for a very long time, likely undiagnosed, but suffering bpd all the same, is an insult to my struggles.

If there's something I've never taken great pride in, it's my mentality. I'm clingy, petty, and downright crude. I'm vulgar and I don't hesitate to speak my mind. Some days I'm haughty and others I am so disheartened that I squeeze every section of my body and face for assurance that I'm not overweight or heidious , and rip the knots in my hair out from their fuckin' roots. I'm a very messed up person and my backstory is something that very few could have lived through unsatched. So yes, it does incur a certain wrath in me, to see people using mental illness for what are seemingly Special Snowflake Brownie Points, and calling out people for "ableism", which is essentially the condemning of the english language, or as I like to call it, the butchering of the English language by social justice whores, who literally go so far out of their way to say that crazy is a slur towards the mentally ill. Well excuse me, bitches, but I refer to myself as that exact fucking adjective all the fucking time! Calling out people for ableism when they're the exact nuerotypical assholes they hate who are self diagnosed and would never be officially considered mentally ill by any psychiatrist in their right state of mind!!!

Moving on, it is a mockery. A mockery of what I have been through, to see this done. DID is no picnic, and I have known a couple with it. I myself am BPD and have in the past had my share of hallucinations and visions even if rarely, that have interrupted my daily living. I blank out every time I become excruciatingly angry with someone, and when someone asks me about a memory from that time, I often can't remember it. 

I do not like to see dissociations, hallucinations, false trauma, and other stressful and pain inducing life events to be falsified by teenagers who think they're cool, edgy accessories to personality. I am still a teen myself and yet, I stand above these people with eons more maturity and dignity in myself, and also, a crippling amount of self loathing....

 You know what my mental illness is to me? A shame. A fucking shame!! So to see people flaunt it, and having to hold my head high and pretend they don't exist, and aren't giving me a poor reputation among the saner world - or at least the saner side of the internet? It's damn near impossible. I mean, I just sit here, trying to sort out the differences between the reals and the fakes. This entire thing makes me want to break into uncontrolled fuckin' tears.

I've accepted agender kiddies, sighed at neopronouns- let the kids play around with their identity that will be as boring and droll as the rest of their cronies in a few years- and I've even excused otherkin for being loons, but this here is too. Fucking. Far. Faking mental illness!?!!! Faking??!!

You have no idea of what i deal with on a day in day out. A & B have no idea, they seem to pretend to have these alters and full cogniscence of what they do. They acted as if they actually were diseased, all while picking up their pity party decorations and hanging them for their little snowflake friends to come and add to.

Excuse me while I fucking retch at how revolting these little freaks are, and how dehumanizing it is to be lumped with them.

I have no identity, I'm so indecisive that I can't even- these kids have no idea!! These constant fluctuations between cheer and despair?? Yeah, I enjoy those!! Everything I do is totally amazing and should be glorified!

No. It's not. It's like living without living, to the point where I feel every fiber is unravelling from my body and every ounce of energy is drained, so much that I arrive home from school in a daze; I can't even cry, that'd waste my energy reserves- so I instead fall fast asleep to regain the energy that in a few hours after will diminish again. No focus. Constant paranoia. Constant fear. And also, constant pride, constant self loathing and self love. It is the worst way of living, and sometimes, dear fucking god, I wish I were dead.

BPD is not a novelty. DID is not a novelty.  NPD is not a novelty. No personaltiy disorder is a novelty. These are all disorders, all diseases often caused by chemical imbalance in the brain. They are some the worst things that can happen to a human beings mentality. I have what seems to be permenant trust issues, with everyone around me, terrified at the thought of being badmouthed, I have befriended nobody the years I've spent in an independent charter education setting. I am alone, and I am constantly involved in conflict, and at war with myself. Every day is a battle and while some days start grimly and others start with me perky, the draining eventually gets the better of me.

I accepted you all personalizing yourselves to nauseating degrees and heightening your self importance through idiotic fake pronouns that are jokes to the language of English, but the mental illness falsifying has got to cease.

Social justice warriors, hear the cries of a girl who is actually mentally ill. Do not dehumanize the disease I have further through your idiocy, I am already living in petrified fright over what people would think of me if they uncovered my mental history. Do not make the lives of me and the others diagnosed with BPD - officially, who meet criteria as defined by the DSM- more unberable than they already are. Please do yourselves a favor. 

It's hurting me to watch this, the faith i have in humanity dwindles everyday, but this is just plain sad. Go outside, read a book and resort to an activity of enrichment and production. Leave the computer behind for five minutes. If you cannot do that, it is a true testimony to your weakness and inability to interact with the world yourself. To face what is real and leave the Internet behind, for even less than an hour. Reality is a breath of fresh air; and after I deleted my tumblr, I finally for the first time in months emerged from my hovel of ignorance and stupidity. And realized, I don't need this anymore. 

Nonetheless, it has still tormented me in the slightest, a nagging and buzzing fly. This is my way of getting rid of it for good.

If you are self diagnosed mentally ill and actually willing to consult a health professional who can determine whether you have these illnesses, i suggest you do. If you refuse, you're simply joshing yourself, and probably not even mentally ill in the first place. If your anxiety and depression, coupled with these so called "tendencies" you claim to possess as symptoms of (insert severe mental illness here) are enough to interfere with your daily life and inhibit you from certain activity, then perhaps it's a possibility, but, I am very skeptical of self diagnosis under most circumstances, especially through tumblr, since I can not always distinguish the filthy lies from the half truths. If none of these problems you possess interrupt the flow of events in your life, then I am sorry to say, you're fucking lying to yourself. Stop perpetuating the excuse that you cannot afford it. If you claim to be a middle class teenager (the majority of social justice twits do), I am sure your well off parents can afford and shell out enough for a measly, measly!!! psych evaluation. God knows, it'll be less than my father spends on my therapy each visit, the therapy visits that my insurance will never cover fully!

I am an abuse survivor, diagnosed with BPD, clinical depression, and general anxiety disorder, and I have for once spoken my mind. I will NOT be mocked by children with no knowledge or understanding as to these conditions, and I will take a stand against them identifying as such. 

Stop it. Stop it. Motherfucking STOP IT!!!

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